by Mary Grand
Catrin sat back. It had never crossed her mind that her parents ‘had to get married’. An ambitious, talented, young man had married this glamorous but older woman. Had he loved her? Well, he’d never left her. Catrin remembered her mother tidying the house before her father came home from another trip to America. ‘We have to make it look decent, you know. We don’t want him leaving us, do we?’ She would say it smiling, but there was no laughter in her voice. The more Catrin thought about it, the more she realised how much her mother’s life was dominated by this fear of losing her father.
Catrin looked down at the drawers, and wondered if they had been emptied. She opened one. It was full of underwear. Another was locked. She couldn’t see a key. She tried another, but this was obviously locked as well. She pulled it hard in exasperation, and realised that the lock must have been faulty because it fell open. When she looked inside she just saw a pile of scarves. She rummaged among them. Wrapped in one, she found an old used cheque book. She saw that it was for an account solely in her mother’s name. That surprised her, as she remembered her mother being very cross that her father had insisted that all their money was in a joint account. There had been times when her mother had borrowed money from Catrin because she said she wanted to buy something without her father knowing. Her mother had said that because all her work was of a voluntary or charitable nature and she had no income she didn’t feel she could argue with him. Looking at this, it seemed that her mother had kept a separate account. Where the money had come from to set this up, Catrin had no idea. The branch of the bank was in Swansea which, again, was odd, as all the family banking was done in Cardiff. She glanced at the stubs of the used cheques. They did not record who the money was given to, but there was a record of the amounts. Some were for a few thousand pounds, others hundreds. They were dated 1993. It was all very mysterious.
Catrin was just replacing the cheque book when she felt a cold hard object at the bottom of the drawer. A deep familiar sense of nausea washed over her. She knew exactly what that was.
Elizabeth had also woken early that morning. The curtains were thin. The sun was streaming in, and she was hot. It was so quiet here. She suddenly felt very alone. In London there was always noise, something happening. She could at least pretend she was part of something. But here, there were no voices, no cars or ambulances, nothing. She got out of bed and opened the window that she had been too frightened to leave open in the night. The fresh air wafted in, and she felt it, silky against her skin. She could hear the sea, the seagulls, and tried to remember the last time she had been to the seaside. She had often gone on holiday with her parents to stay in the north of Corsica, high up in a small medieval village among the mountains. At this time of day the villagers would have been out shopping, getting their chores done before the searing heat took a grip later. Then only tourists and lizards would venture out, and locals would retreat indoors. They seldom went to the beach unless it was to sit beside it at some restaurant in the evening, looking out over the sea. Her only proper seaside holidays had been with her aunt in Cardiff, when she stayed with her in the summer. She was taken to Barry Island. Her aunt bought her a bucket and spade. They jostled for space on the crowded beach full of Welsh people. They built sandcastles, paddled in the sea, and ate ice creams. Elizabeth had enjoyed it, but felt rather hitched on to her aunt’s family, always having to be that bit more polite than her cousins. They had gone to the fair, but Elizabeth didn’t like it there. It seemed so rough and noisy. The people running the rides seemed uncouth, and she wondered if the rides were safe. Here was so different: hot, but not stifling; wilder, remote. She was thinking of showering, but heard the sound of the shower being used. She would have to wait. Then she thought of Richard. He would like it here, she was sure. He had probably had years of normal summer holidays with his family.
And then she remembered the startling revelations of the night before. She had to think today what she was going to do. It would help to talk to Richard, but of course he knew nothing about Bethan or what she was doing. Somehow, talking to him could be reassuring, though, simply to hear his voice. She phoned him.
‘Morning, how are things?’ asked Richard.
‘I’m here, in Wales.’
‘What?’
‘I came last night.’
‘Gosh. So what is it like?’
‘Ghastly. Honestly, it’s a crummy little bungalow. I haven’t got my own bathroom, and the woman who owns it keeps force-feeding me scones.’
She heard Richard laughing. ‘It will be good for you.’
‘Thanks! How are Rosie and all?’
‘Great. Most exciting news: she’s expecting. I’m going to be a grandad. I can’t believe it.’
‘What?’
‘I know. Crazy, isn’t it? But I’m so pleased. Just think, if you and I were married you’d be a step-granny.’
‘That is not funny.’
‘Don’t worry. Seriously though, I am just so made up.’
‘I’m pleased for you.’
‘So, what are you going to do with your day?’
‘I’m not sure. Sunday, isn’t it? I’ll think of something. There are no galleries or anything. It is odd not being in London.’
‘I give you twenty four hours there and you’ll be back in work.’
‘No. I can manage.’
‘We’ll see. Anyway, I’m off for a run. Later we’re going to the Royal Botanic Gardens. We’ll have some lunch there. It’s a lovely day here.’
‘Right. Well, have a good day,’ she said, briskly. Elizabeth felt put out that Richard didn’t seem to be missing her. Suppose now that he was going to have a grandchild he wouldn’t be bothered about living with her? Maybe he would move to Edinburgh?
Elizabeth could hear that Angela had finished in the shower, so she put on her dressing gown, picked up her soap bag and towel, and went to see if the bathroom was free. ‘Honestly, it’s like being a French exchange student. What am I doing here? Maybe the hotel has vacancies,’ she thought, as she made her way across the hallway. The door was ajar. She pushed it nervously, and looked inside. To her relief, it was empty.
The shower was better than expected, although she felt stupid walking along the hallway in her towel.
Elizabeth returned to her room, and chose her clothes carefully. She put on a white, loose, jumpsuit, found the basic hairdryer provided, and dried her hair. She put on her necklace. It was the exquisite Cartier eighteen carat white gold necklace with a lovebird motif, diamond pendant set with emerald eyes and onyx beak which her parents had given to her for her twenty-first birthday. She knew that many people would have put it straight into a safe, frightened to ever wear something so valuable. Elizabeth thought that was ridiculous. She wore it frequently. It gave her a wonderful feeling of confidence, and she loved to see the envious looks from people in the know.
She carefully applied her make up and decided that she could face going to the kitchen for coffee. She was surprised to find Angela cooking, with a fresh cafetiere of coffee waiting for her. Croissants and freshly cut whole grain bread were set out by the toaster.
‘I’ve laid up in the garden for you,’ Angela said. ‘It’s a beautiful morning. You go out, and I’ll bring these out to you. Now, are you sure you don’t want a cooked breakfast? I’m cooking for myself.’
‘No, really. Toast will be fine.’
Elizabeth went outside, relieved to find that she was alone, until Angela came out with the toast and joined her.
‘So, Elizabeth. Have you plans? If you go to the church the service will be at nine. I’ll be going, if you want to come with me.’
‘No. No, thanks. I don’t go to church,’ replied Elizabeth, rather shocked that anyone still thought it was a normal thing to do on a Sunday.
‘Oh, of course. Lots of people don’t now, do they? I was just mentioning it.’
Elizabeth ate her dry toast.
Angela sat with a cup of coffee. ‘So, do you think you will swim today?
’
‘God, no,’ said Elizabeth. ‘I can’t stand the sea.’
‘It seems an odd choice of holiday destination then,’ said Angela, smiling.
‘I’ll enjoy walking,’ said Elizabeth, vaguely aware that she looked like anything but a walker.
‘Well, don’t feel you have to rush off anywhere. Treat this place like your home. I leave a key under the mat. You can always let yourself in. Now, would you like a meal this evening?’
‘Oh, no. I’ll go to a pub or something.’
‘Right, that’s fine,’ said Angela, standing up. ‘Enough chatting. I’d better get off to church. I hope you have a good morning.’
Elizabeth went to her room and brushed her hair. She wondered about the pub in the village, wondered if it would be a better place to stay than here. It must be more private. She picked up her handbag, left the house, and walked up the road. As she walked along, she saw a large house to her right. Surely that must be it? The house where the party had been? There were no other houses as big. She remembered walking down that driveway. There were cars parked. She guessed Lloyd and the family were there. Strange to think that Bethan could be in that house, right now. It was tempting to go and knock on the door but, no, she would bide her time, wait until the memorial. She could control it then. After all, she hadn’t come to see Bethan, only Lloyd. She continued along the street.
There were inviting smells of cooked breakfasts coming from the pub. Elizabeth went straight to reception. A young girl looked up and smiled.
‘Good morning, can I help you?’
‘I need a room.’
The girl looked rather blankly at her. ‘Sorry?’
‘You do rooms? I am asking if you have any vacancies.’
‘Oh no, sorry. We’re completely full. You could try Angela. She has a bungalow here. Number twelve. Just along on the left. She only takes one or two guests, though.’
‘Actually, I’ve tried there.’
‘She only has one room. I know she told me she had some woman from London coming to stay. Still, you might be lucky and she hasn’t turned up. Otherwise, you could try the hotel down in Rhossili. Much bigger than us.’
‘Oh, right. Thanks.’
‘You have to drive up the road. Turn right.’
‘Thank you.’
‘I can draw you a map.’
‘No, I’ll be fine.’
Elizabeth returned to the bungalow and climbed into her car. She opened the windows. It was already hot in there. She drove out of the village, turned right, and followed the road to the car park at Rhossili. It was filling up quickly.
She crossed the road, and walked down to the hotel. The distant sea looked lovely, sparkling blue. There were already a few people making their way to the beach: families with young children. Probably been up since six.
She went into the reception of the hotel. However, it was obviously the wrong time. They, too, were full.
‘Sorry,’ said the receptionist. ‘Nothing all week. It’s the school holidays, you see.’
‘I realised that.’
‘Yes. Well, everything round here will be booked up. You could try the caravan park. They let out some of them. Might be lucky. You need to go to Llanmadog for that. You can get there by walking along the beach.’
Elizabeth shuddered. Not a caravan. Even the B & B was better than that. She would just have to stay out a lot.
‘It’s OK. Tell me, could I have coffee here?’
‘Of course.’
‘Thank you. I’ll sit outside.’
Elizabeth found an empty table. There were a number of people having breakfast. She looked over at Worm’s Head. It all looked so innocent here on a sunny morning. The girl came out with her coffee. As she drank it, she wondered when she was going to let Lloyd know she was there. Not yet.
She saw a notice saying that there was wifi. Maybe check the papers first? She took out her iphone and started to look at the Sunday papers. They were talking about a programme ITV wanted to make about Jimmy Saville, and the accusations of child abuse. The man had always given her the creeps, but she was shocked at the accusations being made.
Elizabeth sat back and looked over again at Worm’s Head. She realised that nearby, maybe down there on the beach, her daughter could be walking. She wondered what she looked like, what she would be wearing. That dark baby hair: maybe it would have turned blonde. Would she be tall like Aled? Thoughts like that slipped in and out of her head most days, but she always quickly pushed them aside. She looked over and noticed a good-looking older man sitting drinking black coffee. He was dressed better than most of the British men, held himself with more confidence. He seemed to sense her looking at him and glanced over. She noticed the look of appreciation. He didn’t look away too quickly. Elizabeth wondered who he was.
Chapter Eleven
Catrin was still in her mother‘s room when she heard some shouting from outside.
‘Hey, is anyone up yet?’
Wrenched back into the present, Catrin quickly shut the drawer, went downstairs, and opened the door.
‘Lowri, you’re early.’
Lowri had parked further down the drive was out of the car, and came running towards her.
‘Happy birthday, Mum,’ she said, and hugged Catrin.
‘Darling, you look wonderful.’ Catrin was so pleased. She had never seen Lowri so happy. She was glowing, as if there was a rainbow around her.
She saw that a young man who must be Mark had got out of the car and was looking out at the view. He was short like Lowri, with spiky red hair. He looked vaguely familiar.
‘Welcome, Mark,’ said Catrin.
Mark turned and grinned at her, then at Lowri. Even from a distance, Catrin could see that he looked at Lowri as if she was a precious jewel. He confidently walked forward. Closer too, Catrin could see that he was older than Lowri, maybe late twenties.
‘You must be Catrin.’
‘It’s good to meet you at last. Lowri has been hiding you from us.’
‘No, I haven’t,’ insisted Lowri.
‘Come on in, then.’
Catrin was about to go inside when Lowri shouted to her. ‘Stop, Mum.’
She saw Lowri gesture to Mark as they shared some private joke.
‘Hang on, Mum. You can’t go in yet. We have your birthday present here in the car, so turn around, and close your eyes.’
Catrin hesitantly did as she was told, and waited. She tried to imagine what it was going to be, guessed it was something large. Maybe it was a painting, or something more practical, possibly a sun lounger? She had been hinting that she wanted one for years.
‘Turn around, Mum.’ Lowri’s voice was quiet, but trembling with excitement.
Catrin turned, and was amazed to see Lowri leading a cocker spaniel towards her. Lowri looked nervous.
‘He’s for you, Mum. You are pleased, aren’t you?’
Catrin could not find words. She just stared at the little dog which was looking back at her. He had deep brown eyes and soft, black, silky ears.
‘Oh Lowri,’ she whispered.
‘He’s beautiful, isn’t he? He’s a blue roan. Guess what his name is?’
Catrin shook her head.
‘He’s called Sapphire, Safi for short. Mum, as soon as I heard that, I knew he was meant for you.’
‘But where does he come from?’
‘A friend of mine breeds cocker spaniels. She only has one breeding pair. They live in the house. The parents are just gorgeous. This little one was bought from them but the owners split up. They asked the breeder to re-home him. He’s two years old. Mum, you are pleased, aren’t you? If you don’t want him, the breeder is very happy to have him back. There are a few people who would love to give him a home.’
Catrin felt a warm tear run down her cheek as she held out her arms. Safi walked towards her, wagging his tail. She crouched down to stroke him. He looked up and licked her chin. She held him close.
‘Lowri, he’s beau
tiful, perfect. Of course, I would love to keep him, but I ought to check with Dad.’
‘Oh, he knows. He’s fine with it. To be honest, you’re the one who will have all the work.’
‘I know that. It’ll do me good. I could do with getting out walking again. Actually, I’ve seen a group of people walking their dogs together in the park by us. I could get to know them. Thank you both very much.’
‘We’ve got some stuff. You know, a bed, and some food, bowls and things.’
‘Well, that’s lovely. You know, back when we lost Lady I thought about getting another dog but, well, the time never seemed right. Now it’s perfect.’
Catrin took Lowri and Mark through the house into the back garden. Safi started to sniff around the grass. They all stood, enchanted, watching him.
Bethan came into the garden. She was wearing short denim shorts and a white crop-top T shirt.
‘Hiya,’ she shouted. She hugged Lowri, then looked down at Safi.
‘Oh gosh, he’s even more gorgeous in real life.’
‘He is. I’m finding it really hard giving him away,’ signed Lowri.
‘You knew?’ asked Catrin.
‘Oh, yes. Lowri told me two weeks ago. Sent me photos. It’s been really hard keeping the secret.’
Bethan sat crossed-legged on the grass. Safi came and sat on her. She looked over at Catrin. ‘Happy birthday, Mum.’
‘Bethan, this is Mark,’ she said.
‘Hiya.’ Bethan grinned flirtatiously. ‘I’m the pretty one.’
Catrin watched as Lowri signed something to Bethan. It was obviously a funny and rude retort. She saw Bethan laugh but she could not work out what exactly Lowri had said. Since the girls had been very young they had developed their own language of signs and gestures.
Mark nodded. ‘Good to meet you, Bethan’ he said, turning to Lowri, and putting his arm around her protectively. Bethan looked put out. She wasn’t used to her sister being the centre of attention. ‘I’m Deaf, by the way,’ she said.
