Evans to Betsy Read Free

burke.”

    Barry grinned. “They’re all round the bend, aren’t they? Didn’t the old man used to walk through the village in his pajamas, spouting poetry?”
    “Didn’t I read that his daughter has turned it into some kind of hospital or sanitarium?” Charlie said.
    “Loony bin, more likely,” Barry commented. “You want to watch out, Betsy. If they take you in there, they might never let you out again.”
    “I’m not going to any loony bin,” Betsy said anxiously.
    “No, you’ve got it all wrong,” Emmy interrupted hastily. “It’s a New Age center.”
    “New age center?” Charlie asked. “Like an old folks home, you mean?”
    “New Age,” Emmy repeated. Really, these people were just perfect. Totally clueless. “They’re into all kinds of cool stuff—alternative healing, psychic research. That kind of thing. I haven’t been there yet, but I’ve been in contact with them and they sound like they’ve got great facilities and staff.” She smiled hopefully at Betsy. “I’ve only just arrived in the area. I need to get settled in and then maybe you and I can go take a look down there. See if it’s the kind of thing you’d like to do, okay?”
    “Okay,” Betsy said. “I don’t mind going to take a look.”
    “I’d better get going,” Emmy said. “I’ve got a lot to do. I need to scout out all the other villages for people with psychic ability, and I need to find myself a place to stay. The hotel’s too expensive. You don’t know of any good b-and-bs that don’t charge an arm and a leg, do you?”
    “We don’t go in for tourism too much up here,” Charlie said. “There’s the holiday cottages up on what used to be Morgan’s farm, but they’re not cheap, I hear.”
    “I’d rather just find a room somewhere, and someone to cook me breakfast,” Emmy said. “I imagine I’ll be working pretty hard.”
    “I know a room that’s going to be empty,” Betsy said suddenly. She gave the men an excited glance. “Well, there is, isn’t there? If Evan Evans moves into that cottage, Mrs. Williams will have a room free.”

    “Has he really decided to move out?” Charlie asked. “I know he was thinking about it, but he might change his mind at the last moment, seeing as how Mrs. Williams looked after him so well.”
    “If he says he’s going to do it, he will,” Betsy said firmly. “Anyway, we’ll ask him next time he comes in.”
    “Fantastic,” Emmy said. “I’ve got your phone number, so I’ll call back and see. That would be so convenient if I could get a room in Llanfair.” She pronounced it Lan-fair.
    The other occupants of the bar smiled.
    “What?” Emmy demanded.
    “It’s called Chlan-veyer ,” Betsy said. “That’s how we say it. But don’t worry about it,” she added. “No foreigners can get it right.”
    “ Chlan-veyer ,” Emmy repeated. “I’ll get it right next time. You’ll have to clue me in, Betsy.”
    “Okay, miss.”
    “Call me Emmy.” She gave another warm smile. “I’ll be in touch, Betsy.”
    She had just come through the archway into the main bar when the door opened and the butcher came in, now without his blood-spattered apron. He looked around the room and his gaze fastened on Emmy. As he let out a torrent in Welsh, Emmy moved hastily out of the way. She had forgotten about this cleaver-wielding maniac, who might make living in this village hazardous.
    Betsy answered him back in Welsh and he relaxed as he came up to the bar.
    “Sorry, miss,” Betsy said, “but Evans-the-Meat is a little out of sorts this morning. A little matter of a bet we had over the football match last night. He was betting on Manchester United but Liverpool won, like I said it would.”
    “A football match?” Emmy couldn’t help smiling.
    “Mr. Evans thought the ref was unfair. He gave their best player a red card when it wasn’t a foul,” Betsy said. “But now he’s going to pay up like the gentleman he is.”
    Evans-the-Meat gave a sheepish