The House of Women Read Online Free Page A

chimney alcove, McKenna found what he wanted, then handed it to Dewi, open at a page of photographs. ‘See anyone you know?’
    Dewi stared with undisguised amazement. ‘It’s you, isn’t it, sir?’
    ‘ Many moons ago.’ Retrieving the book, McKenna pointed to another face, hollow-eyed and melancholy. ‘And that’s Ned Jones, when he won the essay prize at the National Eisteddfod.’
    Dewi scanned the text. ‘And you got second prize. Why did you never tell anyone, sir? You could’ve been quite famous.’
    ‘ Because I would have preferred to be very famous,’ McKenna confessed. ‘I felt like strangling him. He came from nowhere and snatched the glory right out of my hands.’ Seated on his old chesterfield, he cradled the Eisteddfod yearbook on his lap. ‘That year’s essay theme was “Identity in Crisis”, so I wrote about my family’s ruptured identity and cultural dislocation, and how I’d renegotiated myself out of an Irish past to a Welsh present.’ He smiled wryly. ‘I suppose it was a bit precious, but everyone expected me to win.’
    Dewi sat beside him. ‘And what was Ned’s contribution about?’
    ‘ Guilt and atonement and visitation by the sins of the fathers.’ McKenna lit the cigarette. ‘His family owned other properties besides Llys Ifor, and huge tracts of land and a slate quarry, and because all that wealth came from the proceeds of slave-trading, he said he owed his existence to the black people his ancestors exploited.’ He paused, drawing on the cigarette. ‘He’d trawled the family records for biographies of some of the slaves, and described what he called their atomized private identities, how and where they died, what happened to their children, and so on.’
    ‘ Heavy stuff,’ Dewi observed. ‘Did it deserve the prize?’
    McKenna nodded. ‘I wanted to weep with envy.’
    ‘ Well, it’s all swings and roundabouts in the end, sir. You’re going from strength to strength, while the one-time Bard of Bala’s in a drawer in the morgue.’
    ‘ Having died a bare stick, as the Chinese say.’
    ‘ That’s another way of saying he had no offspring, is it?’
    ‘ And no wife.’
    ‘ That we know about.’
    McKenna closed the book and put it on the floor. ‘I think I might go to his funeral, and pay my last respects.’
    ‘ Mrs Harris was wittering about that, as well. She asked if we’d let Ned’s sisters know when the body can be released.’
    ‘ She can tell them herself. They’re her relatives.’
    ‘ I got the impression they’re not on good terms.’
    ‘ Then she can ask her solicitor, or bank manager, or whatever. It’s not our job.’ Noting the disappointment on Dewi’s face, McKenna said: ‘And you’re not doing favours on the quiet in your time off. You weren’t by any chance planning to ask the comely daughter to guide you through the wilds of Meirionydd to Penglogfa, were you?’
    Dewi blushed from his feet to the roots of his hair.
    McKenna sighed. ‘You should find yourself a steady girl. She’d neutralize some of that testosterone galloping through your veins.’
    The blush deepened.
    ‘There are times when it interferes with your judgement,’ McKenna went on. ‘You get side-tracked too easily, waylaid by a pretty smile or a buxom figure.’
    ‘ I’m not promiscuous, sir.’
    ‘ I know you’re not.’
    ‘ But I can’t find anyone who doesn’t disappoint me, sooner or later.’ He chewed his thumbnail, then added: ‘And I’ve probably disappointed a few, as well.’
    ‘ It’s a matter of trial and error, but at some point, you might have to settle for a compromise. Most of us do.’
    Cheeks still pink, Dewi summoned a smile. ‘Maybe I’ll be another bare stick.’
    ‘ I hope not. That would be rather a waste.’
    ‘ There’s plenty about. You’ve only got to look at the lonely hearts columns in the papers. There’s even one in The Times .’ He grinned. ‘D’you think Janet reads it?’
    ‘ I don’t know what she