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were all pretty, horse-faced boys of about 15.
    Like brothers.

    Two of them reached out, helping me up. 'I am Peter,' said the other one, taking a firm grasp on the pram. 'Come along,' he said, 'You must be disturbed.
    We will take you to mother.'

    Rhys
    It took me about twenty minutes to get there.
    A kid came to get me, knocking at the silly little door until I opened it, bleary-eyed.
    'Good afternoon. It is about your wife,' he said, his face serious. 'She is well, but you should come.'
    'What's up?' I asked.
    He started to tell me.
    I got very angry.
    He kept on repeating that Gwen was fine, but I'm not sure I heard it. I was dizzy, sick and red angry.
    I ran from the caravan park, out through the lane, down into the village. My head flying with furious thoughts and threats and rash promises. When I got to the right house, a kid opened the door. Didn't notice him, sorry.
    After the event, I'd say he was another of the square children from the village - you know, dark hair, slightly old-fashioned clothes, plain look.
    Typical. Straightforward. But I barged past him, thundering along the hallway with its tired carpet and vinyl runner, and through the smoked-glass door into the kitchen, one of those old kitchens, you know the kind - welsh dresser, oil cloth, chipped mugs and lino. As soon as I entered, Mrs Harries appeared, handing me a cup of tea, but I didn't even notice. I was here for Gwen.
    She was sat in a chair by the electric fire - all three bars were turned on, so she was obviously royalty. Anwen was pressed to her, and Gwen smiled at me, the same tired smile she threw on after she'd given birth. She looked almost as dazed. She'd been crying - I could tell.
    I hugged her, spilt a bit of tea, and hugged her again.
    She shushed me. It's OK, Rhys, nothing really happened. It's all OK. Peter stopped it.'
    'Peter?'
    The boy who'd fetched me stepped forward and nodded. Tour wife did not seem happy.'
    'Too bloody right, she didn't,' I growled. Thank you.'
    She talked a bit more about what had gone on.
    Mrs Harries made more tea and listened.
    'I don't get it,' I said. 'I mean, I just don't get it.' I stood up. 'I'm going to find that man, and I'm going to knock his block off. Then I'm going to ask him why he did that to you.'
    'Rhys...' began Gwen.
    The boy Peter looked at me. 'Because of us,' he said simply.
    Mrs Harries pushed back the curls of her grey hair and leaned forward, tapping me on the wrist gently. 'Have a seat, dear,' she said, her voice patient and warm.
    She was one of those women who looked perfectly fifty. In a way that you could never imagine her being younger, with long blonde hair and wearing a dress without any flowers on it. No, age suited her.
    Everything about her said freshly baked cakes and Tupperware and lots of tea. She sat down comfortably on a pine kitchen chair opposite me, and topped up my mug, and as she did so, the light in her eyes went.
    Suddenly, she looked ever so sad.
    'It's to do with the children,' she said.

    M e g a n Harries
    It was in 1987 that it all went wrong. We never knew why, really. But it was about then. Something in the water - perhaps due to mining, maybe Chernobyl, someone said. But the births stopped.
    The government sent out some people - they had a good look round. You know the kind - flash-looking, suits, dark glasses, but none of them ever said who they were. They weren't the first, they weren't the last. People came to Rawbone and they made encouraging noises and they went away.
    But they never got to the bottom of it. There was something wrong with the people of Rawbone. None of us could see a child through to term. Every now and then, one of us girls would get pregnant, and the rest of us would all pretend happiness while seething with jealousy and then a secret, awful sad triumph went it all came to nothing.
    The government sent us special doctors, and we were well looked after, I'll say that for them. A few of the men of the village went away, tried to