1. New Beginnings
The smell of coffee and freshly – baked minced pies filled the kitchen as Tom piled the plates and mugs on the tray. “That should keep them happy” he thought, taking a moment to glance westward through the window. Across the road, the snow-covered fields rolled gently down to the River Wye, sparkling under a pale Midwinter sun. In the distance he could see the old stone bridge which spanned the river and hugging the far bank, the hamlet of Bwlch Ddu, smoke rising from the chimneys of the handful of cottages. Behind the hamlet, which some said was Buckley’s origin, the first outcrop of the heavily-wooded Welsh hills rose gently, the trees bare and dark against the fallen snow.
The rising ground before him was split through the middle, as if by a giant’s axe. This was “Bwlch Ddu” or “The Black Gap”, the origins of the name lost in the distant past and it was indeed a distant past, the outcrop being crowned at the Southern end by an Iron Age Hill Fort, still guarded around most of it’s girth by banks and ditches and at the Northern end by a precipitous fall into the Black Gap itself. As a former soldier, he knew it was an excellent defensive position and would have provided commanding views of the country around, before the trees had conquered it.
His old friend Joe Davies and his army pal Dave, now landlord of the village pub “The Terrier’s Rest” had both been born in Bwlch Ddu and the folk that came from there were regarded as an eccentric and superstitious clan by those who lived to the East of the river, sometimes the butt of jokes, but not when they were in earshot.
Tom had first met Dave many years before when they were young men and they had joined the army together. They shared a mutual interest in the countryside, fishing or rabbiting and ratting with a motley collection of terriers around the local farms. It was through Dave that Tom had first met old Joe, a man who had taught him much and in some ways a substitute for a father he didn’t remember. Old Joe knew the countryside and animals inside–out, as if he had been born with a knowledge others lacked.
In the past the three had spent many hours together, the younger men learning from older. Often he would share his practical skills and knowledge of the countryside, at other times he would entertain them with tales of days gone by, his enthusiasm fired with pints of rough cider. Dave had once told him that Old Joe’s mother Ceinwen had been what they called a cunning woman and it was from her that Joe had gained much of his knowledge. Ceinwen had dressed and behaved a little strangely, wore a man’s cap and smoked a pipe. These days people might have wondered what she smoked in the pipe. She claimed that her family had lived at Bwlch Ddu since the time before the foreigners came and people joked that they weren’t sure whether she meant the Romans or Saxons. She was regarded by her neighbours with curiosity tempered by respect and in the old days they often came to her for help when animals or family were sick and money was short. None ever claimed that she had done harm and many had cause to be grateful to her and mourned her passing.
Tom’s gaze dropped to the bench under the Oak tree in the garden where Joe’s ashes had been scattered and where, one Christmas, his Jack Russell Terrier, Nelson, had been found dead and frozen, having travelled many miles back to Buckley to be with his master once again. The little terrier’s faithfulness had become a local legend, prompting the re-naming of the village pub ‘The Terrier’s Rest’ in his honour. Tom and his wife, Jenny, had felt drawn to Joe’s vacant cottage and they had bought it. They had friends here, loved the area and it was a fine place for their daughter Lily, now 13, to grow up. After months of renovation, they had moved in a few weeks before and were nicely settled, in time for Christmas. On the arm of the bench, a solitary Robin pranced, showing off its festive waistcoat. Joe had told him once that if you see a Robin, it is a departed loved one letting you know they are still with you. Of course he didn’t believe such things, but it was one of his favourite birds. The sound of laughter and loud barking from the sitting room brought him back to the task in hand. “That dog is getting too excited” he thought, picking up the tray and heading for the door.
In the bay of the sitting room window, his daughter Lily and Dave’s son William were tossing a ball back and forth, their Jack Russell terrier Nelson springing up and down between them, trying to catch the ball in mid flight. “Come and have some coffee and mince pies and give Nelson a rest”. Nelson, recognising his name, trotted over panting, nose twitching, as it always did when there was food around. At just over a year old, he was maturing into a steady dog, but he could still get over-excited when there were youngsters around. “No mince pies for you Nelson” he laughed. “Lily would you get him a dog biscuit from the kitchen please?” Lily took after her mother and had her deep red hair, grey eyes and temper too.
He noticed young Will’s eyes follow her as she left the room and he thought that perhaps Will, a year younger than Lily, was reaching the age when boys started to think perhaps girls were not so bad after all, especially one as pretty and lively as Lily. William looked like a smaller version of his father, slightly stocky in build, with short-cropped hair, broad, open features and clear blue eyes. He was a good lad, but like his father in the old days, he could be impulsive, which had landed him in a few scrapes in his short life. His Dad had been the same when they joined the army, often clashing with Authority, but hard experiences had turned him into a good and reliable soldier and one he was glad to have had at his side.
Dave was lounging in the armchair by the fire and was holding the photo of Joe Davies which usually stood on the fireplace. It had been in the house when they bought it and Tom had no reason to move it. In the photo Joe was in a field somewhere with the famous Nelson by his side. Dave glanced up, reaching for a mince pie, “I’m sure that dog of yours is Joe’s old dog reincarnated, he even has the same way of moving about him and the same name too!” He wasn’t smiling as he said it and Tom wouldn’t have been surprised if he had actually believed it. Tom laughed “You spent too much time with Old Joe! A lot of these working dogs around here come from the same bloodlines and it’s not surprising if similar ones turn up now and then. Besides what else are you going to call a white dog with a black eye patch?” Dave glanced again at the photo and at their Nelson who was sat nicely in front of the fire, being fed dog biscuits by Lily. “I suppose so” he muttered, but Tom thought he wasn’t really convinced. “Superstitious sod” Tom thought, smiling to himself.
“Anyway, how are you getting on down at the pub Dave, all ready for Christmas?” asked Tom, conveniently changing the subject. “Yes, pretty much, nearly everything is sorted out and with Jenny giving the Missus a hand we should manage just fine. We expect to see you down there on Christmas day mind. We’ve looked everywhere for mistletoe though and can’t find any good stuff, seems to be a shortage. You can’t have Christmas without mistletoe.” Tom had a job to stop himself from laughing out loud at the serious expression on Dave’s face.
Fortunately he was saved by young Will joining in the conversation. “I know where there is plenty of mistletoe dad!” he said, casting a glance towards Lily, no doubt hoping to impress her with his superior knowledge. Unfortunately William did not receive the response he was expecting from his father. “Don’t you go pinching no mistletoe, Will!” Tom, partly to spare William a lecture from his father and partly because he couldn’t resist asked “You are not planning on practising on anyone with that mistletoe are you William?” a serious look on his face and looking meaningfully towards Lily.
Lily looked up from bribing Nelson to do party tricks, rolled her eyes and poked her tongue out at her father. William turned bright pink from his toenails to his hairline. Jenny, who was trying to bring some order to the Christmas chaos, paused momentarily to dig Tom in the ribs with an elbow “Don’t be so mean” she laughed. It seemed the time had come for William and Lily to beat a hasty retreat away from adult harassment. Quickly donning their winter coats and boots, they headed for the door.
