Finders and Keepers by Catrin Collier Page B

mother had dug out of a packing case, then back to the old coaching inn up ahead. If his calculations were right, he was in the village of Abercrave, only a couple of miles from the hamlet of Penycae and no more than three or four miles from Craig-y-Nos castle.
    He eased his foot off the accelerator and turned into the yard in front of the pub. To his relief a single petrol pump stood in a corner. He parked next to it and hit his horn. A short, stocky, dark-haired young man about his own age walked out of the barn built at right angles to the inn.
    â€˜Nice tourer, sir,’ he said, brushing his hands together to rid them of sawdust.
    Harry picked up the lilt of someone more accustomed to speaking Welsh than English. ‘Thank you.’
    â€˜We haven’t seen many new ones in the valley, not since Madame Patti passed on. Back then we used to get the lot in here. Rolls-Royce, Bentley, Mercedes – you name it, we saw and serviced it. That’s why my father opened this workshop, to sort out the toffs’ cars.’ Suddenly remembering he was there to serve, he went to the pump. ‘Do you want petrol, sir?’
    â€˜I most certainly do. Fill her up, please.’ Harry left his car and stretched his cramped legs and arms. ‘Am I on the right road for Craig-y-Nos?’
    The man stepped away from him. ‘You going to the sanatorium, sir?’
    â€˜As a visitor. But if the treatment they offer is as good as my family have heard, and the doctor in charge will take him, my grandfather may become a patient.’
    â€˜They say it’s the best in Britain for lung disease, sir, but we locals don’t go near the place if we can help it.’
    â€˜That’s understandable. Is it close?’
    â€˜About four miles up the valley. You can’t miss it. It’s a huge place on the right-hand side of the road.’ He eased the nozzle from the tank. ‘That will be a shilling and a penny halfpenny, sir.’
    Harry dug his hand in his pocket, pulled out a fistful of change and handed over two sixpences and two pennies. ‘I’m glad there’s a garage close by.’
    â€˜Only one between Swansea and Brecon, sir,’ the man announced proudly.
    â€˜Do you do repairs as well as servicing?’
    â€˜Yes, sir.’ He put his hand in his pocket, checked the coins he drew out and handed Harry a halfpenny change.
    â€˜In that case, could you put a new tyre on my spare wheel, please? There’s no point in trying to repair it,’ Harry warned when the mechanic examined the tyre bolted to the side of the Crossley. ‘It’s ripped to pieces.’
    â€˜I can see that, sir. I have a tyre that size, but it will take me an hour or more to put it on your wheel and it will cost you sixpence for my time and four and fourpence for the tyre.’
    Harry unfastened the wheel and rolled it towards him. ‘I’ll pick it up later.’ He extended his hand. ‘Harry Evans.’
    â€˜Alfred Edwards, sir. Everyone calls me Alf.’ He wiped his hand again on the back of his trousers before shaking Harry’s hand. ‘I served a full mechanic’s apprenticeship and I’ve run the garage single-handedly since my father passed on last year, so if you need anything doing to your Crossley while you’re in the valley, I promise you now, I’ll do a first-class job.’
    â€˜That’s reassuring to know.’
    â€˜There’s not been much call for car servicing since Madame Patti’s time because no one other than the doctor can afford one. And although he sends his ambulance down here, as well as his and his daughter’s cars, I spend most of my time making furniture.’
    â€˜You’re a carpenter as well?’ Harry asked.
    â€˜Not a proper time-served one like my grandfather was, but he taught me a bit. I’m not saying what I make would please the crache, but it seems to suit the farmers round