being a bit overwrought about all this,” said Roger. “When you see them they are just plates. And perhaps it was just mice.”
“Mice,” said Gwyn. “I’d forgotten. I set a cage trap.”
He climbed up the ladder and opened the hatch. Roger could see him from the waist down. He stood very still.
“Have you caught anything?” said Roger.
“You’ve seen a cage trap, haven’t you?” said Gwyn. “You know how it works – a one-way door: what’s in it can’t get out: right?”
“Yes,” said Roger. “Have you caught anything?”
“I think I’ve caught a mouse,” said Gwyn.
“ ‘Think’?”
Gwyn came down the ladder. He held out the cage. Inside was a hard-packed ball of bones and fur.
“I think it’s a mouse,” he said. “Owls aren’t fussy. They just swallow straight off, and what they don’t want they cough up later. That’s an owl’s pellet: but I think it was mouse.”
They had not heard Nancy come up the stairs. She was in the bedroom doorway. “It’s taking you long enough to measure that door, isn’t it, boy?” she said. “Is that all you’re doing? What you need that trap for?”
“I’ve finished, Mam,” said Gwyn. “I’m going down the shop.”
“About time,” said Nancy. “I’m wanting flour for tea scones: be sharp.”
“Can I have my money now?” said Gwyn.
“You has pocket money Saturday,” said Nancy.
“I know, Mam. Can I have it early this week?”
“You think I’m made of it? There’s nothing as can’t wait. Saturday, boy.”
“But Mam—”
“Down the shop with you, and less cheek.”
“I’m not cheeking you.”
“You are now,” said Nancy.
Gwyn went downstairs and into the kitchen. Roger followed. Gwyn opened a cupboard and took his mother’s purse from behind a cocoa tin.
“You’re not going to nick it, are you?” said Roger.
“No,” said Gwyn.
“You don’t need cash for the flour,” said Roger. “It goes on the account.”
“Yes,” said Gwyn.
“Do you have pocket money every week?” said Roger.
“Yes.”
“Bit quaint, isn’t it?”
“Is it?”
“Though if that’s how you’re fixed I suppose it’s OK to take some early. You’re not pinching it – just anticipating.”
“Not even that,” said Gwyn. “I’m giving.” He opened the purse, and dropped the ball of mouse inside. “A poor thing, but mine own.” Then he closed the purse, and put it back in the cupboard.
Gwyn walked so fast down the drive that Roger had to run after him. His face was white and he did not speak.
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