‘Who?’
‘Meici.’
‘No,’ she said, but her eyes betrayed her, darting for a fraction of a second towards the caravans parked on the grassy verge overlooking the beach.
I turned to look. ‘Which one is it? The blue one?’
‘No, I said he’s not here.’
‘You might as well say –’
Calamity nudged my arm. Meici Jones appeared walking down the road carrying a pint of milk. He entered one of the caravans. We followed.
He was standing in the kitchen area, reading a copy of the
‘Hi Meici,’ I said.
‘Hi Louie,’ he said with forced joviality. ‘How are things?’
‘Oh, not bad. How are the beans?’
He looked at them as if the answer to the question required deliberation. He became lost in thought. ‘Good,’ he said distantly. ‘The beans are good, Lou.’
‘You’ll be getting married soon.’
‘This afternoon, actually.’
‘Chastity sure will look lovely in a white dress. Pity about that black eye.’
He feigned innocence. ‘Which one’s that?’
‘The one you gave her.’
‘Is that what she said?’
‘She said she walked into a door.’
‘That’s right, that’s what she did.’ He forced a laugh. ‘You should have seen it, Lou! She’s so clumsy . . . I guess that’s why I love her.’
‘I need your help, Meici.’
‘Sure, Louie, anything . . .’
‘I’m wanted for attempted murder, did you know that?’
‘Yes, I saw it on the TV.’
‘I saw it on TV, too. I saw you on TV saying I was the murderer. Do you remember doing that?’
Meici didn’t say anything. His eyes narrowed. Perhaps he realised being nice was not going to get him out of this one. ‘Since you ask, Louie, I don’t remember that.’
‘I need to clear my name. Whatever quarrel you think you’ve got with me is . . .’
‘You had her handkerchief.’
‘Yes, her handkerchief was in my car. It doesn’t mean anything.’
‘You would say that.’
‘It doesn’t mean a thing. I gave her a lift.’ I pulled out my hip flask and proffered it. ‘Drink?’
He shook his head as if to say it was too late for such things. ‘I trusted you, I thought you were my friend, you were nothing but a dirty double-crosser. You can’t wriggle out of this one.’
‘It’s a serious charge, Meici.’
‘You should have thought about that before you started messing about with my girl.’
‘Will you withdraw your testimony?’
‘I was brought up not to tell lies. I’ll tell them exactly what happened. You shot me.’
‘Meici, I know you’ve had a hard life –’
‘What would you know about it?’
‘Meici –’
‘I’m sorry, Louie, I have a lot to do today.’ He put the bean tin down on the hob.
I stared at him for a long while; he fidgeted, then picked the tin up again.
‘OK,’ I said. ‘Nothing I say is going to make a difference.’ I reached out my hand.
He jumped back. ‘What are you going to do?’
‘I’m going to shake your hand. What do you think I’m going to do?’
‘You could do judo or something.’
I gave an exasperated sigh. He stared uneasily at my hand, the way a dog regards a stick that has been used to beat it in the past.
‘I just wanted to congratulate you on your wedding.’
Confusion flooded his eyes.
‘It’s not a trick, for God’s sake.’
He reached out his hand, gingerly, as if expecting an electric shock. We shook. His hand was pudgy and moist and childlike.
‘Hope it goes well,’ I said. ‘I hope you and Chastity will be very happy together.’
His eyes misted, and he swallowed so hard he could hardly speak. ‘Thanks, Lou, ’ppreciate it.’
‘And thanks for asking me to be your best man. Sorry it didn’t work out.’
He swallowed another lump. ‘I got Ercwleff to do it.’
‘He’s a good choice. Dependable.’
Meici nodded. He opened his mouth to speak but the muscles quivered and his mouth assumed the shape of a figure-of-eight lying on its side.
‘So long,’ I said as I left.
‘Bye Louie,’ he squeaked, looking as shocked as a child waiting at the school gate for a mother who doesn’t come. That’s how it can happen sometimes. Just when you thought there was nothing left for Fortune to throw at you, she deals you a low blow. Kindness.
It rained in the afternoon. The day turned cold and squally with gusts of wind that turned umbrellas inside out and made the canvas doors of the marquee in Plas Crug slap together viciously. The ceremony was held in Llanbadarn church and afterwards there was a reception for two hundred in the marquee. I stood among the trees at the edge of the park watching, the ghost at the feast. After the toasts and speeches the crowd gathered outside in the rain to watch Meici’s human-cannonball flight. He wore his silver space-cadet suit. A compere dressed as a circus ringmaster gave a running commentary through a public address system. He told us as Meici stepped out from the dressing tent and strode along the field of the great danger Meici was placing himself in. The crowd were dubious and it seemed many secretly hoped for a disaster. From white to black on the same day. No one had ever seen a human-cannonball wedding before; no one had ever seen a human-cannonball funeral. No one had seen both on the same day. Normally brides have to do a quick change of clothing into their going-away outfits but this would be something even more dramatic. No one liked Meici, and no one even knew Chastity, but everyone had to be there in case he entered the
Meici climbed up the stepladder and inserted himself in the cannon barrel, which pointed up and in the direction of a net for landing some twenty yards away. Chastity, in white rain-sodden taffeta, watched with eyes sparkling, half in fear, half in excitement. No man had ever done this for her before and would ever be likely to again. A recording of a drum rolled, the compere gave the countdown, the heavens opened. There was a pyrotechnic bang and flash from the fat end of the cannon and Meici sailed regally into the darkening sky, describing a gentle arc towards the net. The crowd held its breath. Meici held his arms out and landed neatly in the middle of the net. Chastity squealed with delight and the audience broke into spontaneous applause. A group of ushers helped Meici down and carried him shoulder high through the throng towards the bar; girls threw flowers and confetti over him. It was a moment of triumph and no one who had ever known Meici in his previous incarnation would ever have predicted it. A man who had known no friends, and no girls, who had lived for thirty-four years with his mum and been regularly beaten with a cane, had performed the most unlikely turnaround of fate. Later in the afternoon a hire car took the couple off to the mayor’s holiday cottage in Aberdovey.
I spent the rest of the day walking in the rain. I was a fugitive; my description had been issued to all law- enforcement officers, along with the caveat that I was dangerous and caution should be used when approaching me. Anyone could have seen me, anyone could have reported me. I no longer cared. Sometimes you don’t; it takes too much energy. I walked from the recreation field down Elm Tree Avenue, past the station to the harbour and from there along the Prom to Constitution Hill. I walked along North Road and up the steps to the top of Bryn Road
