tails between their legs, and the people flee like frightened sheep, leaving Angharad, the dead, alone in a ruined field, laughing, laughing, laughing . .
.
‘It’s as hot as hell,’ said Lydia. ‘I wish I hadn’t come. I want to go home.’
‘Don’t be tiresome,’ said Betty. ‘We’ve hardly seen anything yet.’
‘I’ve seen a lot of dogs and sheep and pigs and things,’ said Lydia, ‘and a lot of cakes and carrots and scarlet runner-beans, and millions of people, and I want to go home.’
‘It was you who wanted to come,’ said Betty, irritated. ‘You said you wouldn’t miss it for anything.’
‘I haven’t missed it. I’ve seen it, and now I’m getting hot and cross.’ Lydia glowered at the lively scene.
‘I want to see the traction engines in a minute,’ said Betty, looking round; but Lydia knew that she really wanted to see Beuno, since it wasn’t long since she herself had been in love and she recognised the signs.
‘I don’t think Elizabeth can be here,’ she said, wishing to indicate in a roundabout way that she didn’t think Beuno was here either. ‘We’d have come across her by now.’
‘Hywel’s here,’ said Betty. ‘He’s over there at the sheepdog trials, and I saw Wyn and April in the flower-arrangement tent.’
‘Well, keep out of their way,’ said Lydia. ‘I don’t think I could face Dr Wyn’s nudges and winks at the moment.’
‘He doesn’t mean anything by it,’ said Betty. ‘He’s probably shy. He’s frightened of you. You can be very intimidating.’
Lydia ignored this, although she found it quite flattering. ‘Whenever I stand in the middle of a big field,’ she said, ‘I expect some harpy to come flying at me with a hockey stick. It makes me nervous. Everything that reminds me of school makes me nervous.’
‘You’re quite safe here,’ Betty reassured her.
‘I don’t like the look of that bull,’ said Lydia, ‘or that simply colossal pig. If a pig gets its teeth in you it never lets go.’
‘That’s nonsense,’ said Betty.’ If it was true there’d be people all over the world with pigs with their teeth sunk in them.’ She stood still and looked across at the beer tent, shading her eyes. ‘When you’re silly you make everyone else silly,’ she told Lydia rebukingly. ‘You make me feel all limp and incompetent.’
Lydia felt a bit mean. Perhaps Betty
was
enjoying the occasion. Perhaps she would enjoy it more if Lydia stopped whimpering. ‘Let’s go and have a beer,’ she offered, ‘or a hot-dog or some candy-floss.’
‘Beer, I think,’ said Betty, making for the tent.
‘There you are,’ said Dr Wyn with strenuous good will.
‘So we are,’ said Lydia, smiling radiantly.
‘Enjoying yourselves?’ asked the doctor. ‘I had a splendid time in London,’ he added, with an air of triumph.
He was like a master of ceremonies, thought Lydia. Or a cheer leader. Incapable of leaving people to get along on their own breathing their own air, thinking their own thoughts.
‘What are you drinking?’ he asked, going on to apologise that he would have to leave them shortly since it would be time for his surgery.
Betty said sincerely that that was a shame, in order to prevent Lydia from saying it insincerely, as she was clearly about to do. ‘Are you having a good time?’ she asked April. ‘Did your flower arrangement win?’
Disconcertingly, April muttered something incom -prehensible and moved a few steps away from them.
‘That’s not shy,’ said Lydia; ‘that’s just rude. What
have they
being saying about us?’
‘I can’t think,’ said Betty, looking suspiciously at Lydia, as though wondering what she had been up to while her own attention had been elsewhere.
‘I haven’t done a thing,’ protested Lydia, reading this look correctly. ‘The girl’s mad.’
Betty stepped aside and addressed April purposefully. ‘Are your parents here, dear?’ she asked in tones that required an answer.
April
.
‘It’s as hot as hell,’ said Lydia. ‘I wish I hadn’t come. I want to go home.’
‘Don’t be tiresome,’ said Betty. ‘We’ve hardly seen anything yet.’
‘I’ve seen a lot of dogs and sheep and pigs and things,’ said Lydia, ‘and a lot of cakes and carrots and scarlet runner-beans, and millions of people, and I want to go home.’
‘It was you who wanted to come,’ said Betty, irritated. ‘You said you wouldn’t miss it for anything.’
‘I haven’t missed it. I’ve seen it, and now I’m getting hot and cross.’ Lydia glowered at the lively scene.
‘I want to see the traction engines in a minute,’ said Betty, looking round; but Lydia knew that she really wanted to see Beuno, since it wasn’t long since she herself had been in love and she recognised the signs.
‘I don’t think Elizabeth can be here,’ she said, wishing to indicate in a roundabout way that she didn’t think Beuno was here either. ‘We’d have come across her by now.’
‘Hywel’s here,’ said Betty. ‘He’s over there at the sheepdog trials, and I saw Wyn and April in the flower-arrangement tent.’
‘Well, keep out of their way,’ said Lydia. ‘I don’t think I could face Dr Wyn’s nudges and winks at the moment.’
‘He doesn’t mean anything by it,’ said Betty. ‘He’s probably shy. He’s frightened of you. You can be very intimidating.’
Lydia ignored this, although she found it quite flattering. ‘Whenever I stand in the middle of a big field,’ she said, ‘I expect some harpy to come flying at me with a hockey stick. It makes me nervous. Everything that reminds me of school makes me nervous.’
‘You’re quite safe here,’ Betty reassured her.
‘I don’t like the look of that bull,’ said Lydia, ‘or that simply colossal pig. If a pig gets its teeth in you it never lets go.’
‘That’s nonsense,’ said Betty.’ If it was true there’d be people all over the world with pigs with their teeth sunk in them.’ She stood still and looked across at the beer tent, shading her eyes. ‘When you’re silly you make everyone else silly,’ she told Lydia rebukingly. ‘You make me feel all limp and incompetent.’
Lydia felt a bit mean. Perhaps Betty
was
enjoying the occasion. Perhaps she would enjoy it more if Lydia stopped whimpering. ‘Let’s go and have a beer,’ she offered, ‘or a hot-dog or some candy-floss.’
‘Beer, I think,’ said Betty, making for the tent.
‘There you are,’ said Dr Wyn with strenuous good will.
‘So we are,’ said Lydia, smiling radiantly.
‘Enjoying yourselves?’ asked the doctor. ‘I had a splendid time in London,’ he added, with an air of triumph.
He was like a master of ceremonies, thought Lydia. Or a cheer leader. Incapable of leaving people to get along on their own breathing their own air, thinking their own thoughts.
‘What are you drinking?’ he asked, going on to apologise that he would have to leave them shortly since it would be time for his surgery.
Betty said sincerely that that was a shame, in order to prevent Lydia from saying it insincerely, as she was clearly about to do. ‘Are you having a good time?’ she asked April. ‘Did your flower arrangement win?’
Disconcertingly, April muttered something incom -prehensible and moved a few steps away from them.
‘That’s not shy,’ said Lydia; ‘that’s just rude. What
have they
being saying about us?’
‘I can’t think,’ said Betty, looking suspiciously at Lydia, as though wondering what she had been up to while her own attention had been elsewhere.
‘I haven’t done a thing,’ protested Lydia, reading this look correctly. ‘The girl’s mad.’
Betty stepped aside and addressed April purposefully. ‘Are your parents here, dear?’ she asked in tones that required an answer.
April
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