Redemption Song

by Wilkinson, Laura

  ‘Hey, don’t worry. Look, I think it’s too cold for them anyway. They’re probably still in torpor. If we stay our body heat will disturb them too. And you’re right about the light. We should get out of here. Leave them in peace.’

  From her pocket Saffron pulled out a small hand gel and offered it to Joe. ‘You touched the floor,’ she said.

  ‘Bats are clean. Their droppings are only crushed insects.’

  Saffron screwed up her nose and he took the gel. He wanted no excuses not to be able to hold her.

  Back on the working section of the pier, Eifion indicated to Ceri they needed to make a move. ‘What about chips?’ she said, petulant.

  Eifion glanced at Joe. It was momentary, but it was enough for Joe’s message to be clear: Leave me alone with her. ‘I’ve all the ingredients to make shepherd’s pie, your favourite, cariad. Mince’ll turn if we don’t make it tonight,’ Eifion said. ‘And you’re back at your mam’s tomorrow.’ Ceri shrugged an agreement.

  They walked to the end of the pier, stood underneath the old clock, and said their goodbyes. Joe knew Eifion would be discreet. Joe’d never said anything to the older man, but Joe knew he understood that Joe didn’t want anyone thinking badly of Saffron and he didn’t want Rain, or anyone else, poking around in his business.

  Joe and Saffron remained still as Eifion and Ceri ambled away. Joe watched and saw how alike they were. The same lilting gait and solid frame; the way they held themselves. Family. Something he’d never had. The closest he’d got was Freddy and Allegra.

  Ceri turned and, walking backwards, shouted, ‘Have a good time, lovebirds! You might have fooled him,’ she gestured at her father, ‘but not me. Sharp as, I am.’ And with that she turned her back on them and linked her arm in her father’s.

  Alarmed, Joe turned to Saffron, who shrugged and pressed her lips together. ‘She guessed ages ago that I liked you.’ She slipped her hand in his. It felt cool and comforting. ‘It’s OK. She’s not as gobby as she first seems. I trust her implicitly. I think Mum’ll be fine too.’

  Joe smiled, but he wasn’t convinced. Not at all.

  Rain was nervous; she could feel it throughout her body.

  She surveyed the hall. Was it really big enough to accommodate the Cub Scouts as well as the junior group of the Boys’ Brigade? How she wished she hadn’t offered the hall to the scout leader. It was a character flaw, this impulsiveness. She never used to be like this; Stephen was the impulsive one. She was measured and controlled, just like Saff.

  She’d felt sorry for the man. That was it. When the leader, who wasn’t even a regular at church – he’d been twice, maybe three times in the eight months she’d been here – had mentioned that the scout hut was out of use while essential repairs took place, she’d merrily said they could use the church hall. What she hadn’t anticipated was a meeting time clash with the Boys’ Brigade. Again, somewhat rashly she realised, she’d said she couldn’t see it being a problem. The brigade was all about promoting habits of respect, obedience, and discipline, though she admitted now there was precious little evidence of such traits in the boys. Their behaviour was more animal than Christian. And as for the scouts, wouldn’t they be worse? There was no ethos of promoting Christ’s kingdom there. It was all about knots and running wild in the countryside. Given half a chance the boys would revert to savages.

  The area was still tribal in tone. To Rain, there was a sense of the outpost settlement about Coed Mawr, a frontier town in the Wild West. Visitors from neighbouring towns were treated with suspicion. The Cub Scouts and the Boys’ Brigade were rival gangs and trouble was surely brewing.

  Trembling, Rain trotted outside and looked at the sky. Perhaps the scouts would be content to use the grassy area out front, or even the small one at the back? Now that the work on the chapel roof was almost complete, JJ had removed most of the tools and materials dumped there. It would be perfectly safe. Dark clouds hovered overhead, threatening. She withdrew to the hall and took a deep breath. It would have to do.

  Goodness me, Rain. Whatever happened to your Christian charity? The boys will be charming, delightful. All will be well. And it might stay dry.

  She began to put out chairs. The volunteer who ran the Boys’ Brigade had twisted his ankle on a hike the group had undertaken some weeks ago and recent activities had consequently been more sedentary. Without clear instruction from him this week, she placed the chairs in a circle. He’d said they were going to do either a photography project or a cooking one. She couldn’t imagine they’d want tables for photography, and for cooking … well, they’d need to retreat to the kitchen. As for the scouts, she hadn’t a clue. She wondered if she should divide the space in some way. A line of chairs perhaps, or a line of chalk on the floor?

  Goodness, it’s going to be chaos. The noise will be insane. And Dear God, if they do cooking, the mess afterwards … Though cooking will keep them apart … Bugger, I must remind them to clear up after themselves.

  Her mind whirred.

  ‘Hellooo?’

  Rain jumped. She’d not heard the bell, or the door. Goodness, anyone might have come in. She turned to find Eifion creeping into the hall, looking apologetic.

  ‘There was no answer, but I could hear the scraping of the chairs. The door was open …’ his voice trailed away and he stopped moving.

  ‘Oh, please don’t apologise. It’s my fault. In cloud cuckoo land again.’ She waved him in. ‘How can I help you?’

  He bit his lip. ‘I’m here for the scouts. And the Boys’ Brigade, as a matter of fact.’

  ‘Oh. I had no idea.’ What a surprising man he was. ‘The Boys’ Brigade too?’ She was confused.

  ‘I know Leigh, who runs it, and his ankle’s got worse. They think it’s a break now, not a sprain. And he told me about sharing the hall, how you very kindly said the Cubs could use the space too, and I thought it might be tricky, what with them all in here, so I suggested we bag them in together. Do a joint activity. It’ll be good for the boys too. See how the other half lives, make new friends, develop skills of co-operation.’ He smiled. ‘Though that might be over ambitious with those little sods!’ He screwed his face up. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘No need to apologise. I’ve been fretting about that.’ She noticed the carrier bags in his hands for the first time. ‘What are you going to do with them all?’

  ‘Make rock,’ he said, confidently. And then a little less confidently, ‘if they behave themselves.’

  ‘That is ambitious. Won’t you need adult helpers? There’s hot water involved if I’m not mistaken.’

  ‘I’ve mates pitching up, but any extra is more than welcome. I’ll need someone to supervise those out here. After we’ve sorted the pencils, string, and paper clips, I’ll divide them into two mixed groups. One in the kitchen, one out here making posters advertising the rock. Fancy it?’ he said.

  ‘You know what, I do. But only if I can help in the kitchen. I’d love to see how it’s made.’ What a clever man he was. Promoting his business while doing some valuable community service. He was absolutely wasted as a labourer. ‘Let’s get some tables out and more chairs and then we’ll get the kitchen ready.’

  ‘It’s not like the rock you’ll find in shops. More like crystals. And it takes time for them to form, so the boys will have to wait. There’ll be no instant results. The best things are worth waiting for, don’t you think?’

  ‘I do. I absolutely do.’ She waved him on towards the kitchen, aware that her heart rate had returned to normal and she was looking forward to the next couple of hours.

  Once tables and chairs were laid out, Rain led Eifion to the kitchen where they organised the pans, sugar, and food colourings. At Eifion’s suggestion they measured out the sugar and put the requisite amount into cups ready for the boys to stir into the water.

  ‘The trick is adding it slowly, watching and waiting for signs that no more can be dissolved,’ Eifion said. He held up a bottle of cochineal. ‘And I bet you a quid none of them wi
ll go for pink rock!’

  ‘I’m not really a betting sort,’ Rain replied. It was only a figure of speech; he probably hadn’t meant it seriously. She regretted taking him so literally; she couldn’t help it.

  ‘Of course, you’re not. I’m so sorry. Stupid of me.’ His eyes were warm and honest, cradled in crumpled folds of weathered skin.

  ‘My husband, Stephen, he liked a flutter, as he called it. Not that it was as harmless as the expression implies.’ She felt herself tighten, surprised she’d said it aloud. She’d denied it to others for so long, when they were in Dulwich, but now it no longer mattered and it felt surprisingly good to say it aloud.

  ‘The church doesn’t approve?’ Eifion said, though it was more of a statement than a question.

  ‘Heavens, no. It was his one weakness, and even his faith couldn’t stop him doing it. He won a few times, you see, and we had Saff’s university education to pay for. He didn’t lose a lot. He was careful like that. But he shouldn’t have been doing it at all. That was the problem.’

  ‘If it was his only weakness, I really shouldn’t worry.’

  Rain stared at Eifion, his image mingling with blurred images of Stephen. Her stomach clenched and unclenched. She felt so peculiar again. What did he mean?

  ‘Are you all right, Reverend? You look a little pale,’ Eifion said. He reached out a hand and placed it over Rain’s. With the other he touched her shoulder. She looked down at her hand, as if it belonged to someone else. She was gripping the counter’s edge. ‘We’re none of us perfect,’ he continued.

  She blinked. ‘No, we’re not.’

  ‘Hi.’

  Rain and Eifion jumped. His hand leapt from hers, as if guilty, though there was nothing to be embarrassed about.

  It was Saff, peering into the kitchen through the large hatch. ‘Just came to let you know I’m off out. Don’t wait up.’

  ‘You’ve not long got in from work.’ Rain said. ‘You’re out all the time these days.’

  ‘Hardly.’ Saffron turned to leave.

  Rain turned to Eifion and smiled. ‘With Ceri?’ she asked, but Saff was nowhere to be seen; the sound of the slamming door punctuated her exit.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  The walk to Joe’s cottage took twenty-five minutes. It had taken her less the first time, but this time Saffron was leisurely. Keen to see Joe, she’d been ready early. A quick wash and freshen up after work, a change of clothes and she was done. With little to distract her at the manse, other than her medical journals which she couldn’t concentrate on anyhow, she’d decided to leave. She picked up the decorated chocolate eggs she’d bought from a boutique sweet shop she’d discovered in Upper Coed Mawr. It was the Easter display that had caught her attention, all that sunshine yellow.

  She tried to enjoy the walk, take in the natural world around her, but couldn’t. The image was seared on to her retina: Eifion was holding hands with her mother when she’d popped into the church hall to say goodbye.

  For sure, they’d jumped apart, as if stung, when she’d spoken, but it was too late; she’d seen them. Eifion was single; Rain was single. It wasn’t a crime, as such. But really? Less than two years since they’d laid her father to rest? After everything Rain had said about grief and time and respectable distance? Saffron felt sick. It was an affront. To her father, to her and to Rain’s precious God. She’d wanted to scream: ‘Get your hands off her!’ but she knew it wasn’t all Eifion. If anything, the fault lay with Rain. After all, Eifion had been divorced years, Ceri had said. But her mother? Her mother belonged to her father still. Surely? And Eifion wasn’t a chapel-goer. How did that compute for her mother? She couldn’t be with anyone who didn’t believe.

  Breathless and light-headed, Saffron stopped and bent double, her hands gripping her knees, the bag containing the eggs swung from her wrist, the plastic cutting into her skin. A smell she couldn’t quite identify enveloped her. It wasn’t unpleasant as such. It was a familiar countryside scent but right now it added to her sense of nausea. After minutes, she lifted her head and, after regaining her balance, walked on towards the lane.

  It didn’t add up. Rain talked about her dad as if he were a deity. If Rain had the power to award him a sainthood, Saffron was certain she would. But then, her mother was still a bit crazy. She tried to hide it from Saffron, but Saffron knew. She had eyes and ears.

  She thought about Eifion. She didn’t know the man, but he seemed all right. Nice. He was very nice, she admitted. And about the same age as her mum. But compared to her dad, her lovely, clever, remarkable dad, he was nothing. It wasn’t possible, it wasn’t.

  Joe was waiting as she approached the cottage. Standing in the open doorway, one arm resting against the frame, he appeared relaxed. A broad smile, as welcome as the sunrise, swept across his face as she neared and she resisted the urge to run into his arms, push her face against his hard chest, relish the solid masculinity of him, inhale his scent. Instead she stopped and held the bag aloft. ‘I brought some eggs,’ she announced.

  He folded his arms. ‘Planning on staying for breakfast? You’re full of surprises.’

  ‘Chocolate eggs.’ She stressed the ‘chocolate’, teasing him, but she felt heat rise on her cheeks. He did that to her: reduced her to a blushing, awkward girl, not the capable, cynical woman she’d considered herself once upon a time.

  ‘Milk or plain?’

  ‘Both. I didn’t know what you like.’ She moved closer.

  ‘No white?’ He still blocked the doorway.

  Her heart sank. Who’d have thought it? A grown man liking white chocolate. ‘That’s for kids, isn’t it?’

  He laughed. ‘Kidding. I like something darker. Rich, strong, slightly bitter, best taken in small bites.’ His eyes bored into hers.

  She stepped closer still. They were within touching distance. ‘It’s better for you. Anti-oxidants and all that.’

  ‘I like the very best.’

  ‘This is it.’ She lifted her arms a touch, palms open.

  He leant in and kissed her. She submitted to the moment, the bag of eggs swinging against their sides as they embraced.

  Not all of the eggs were broken. Saffron wished she’d wrapped them more carefully, or taken the shopkeeper up on her offer to gift wrap them, but she was short of cash, as always. It didn’t matter. Four were perfect and she’d bought too many to eat in one sitting. Joe said he’d put them in the fridge for next time.

  Next time. Had two little words ever sounded sweeter? Saffron didn’t think so.

  After a supper of fresh mackerel cooked over an open fire in the ramshackle back garden, they sat on a bench, swathed in blankets, watching the flames, the night stealing up around them. They fed each other fragments of chocolate, licking the residue from each other’s fingers.

  He took her hand. ‘Is this OK? Staying here, tucked away in this tatty old place.’

  ‘You’re thinking I’d rather be wined and dined in some posh gaff in town?’ She pulled a face. Were there any posh places in Coed Mawr? ‘Or some fancy place nearby?’ She couldn’t blame him. She was an urban girl, a Londoner, for whom the stay in this rural outpost was a temporary glitch. She’d made no secret of her disdain for the place when they’d first met. She cringed at the memory of her behaviour. But what of him? He wasn’t from round here either, and how long was he planning to stay? For ever? Surely not? What drove him here? Work? ‘This is perfect,’ she said. And after a pause, ‘I never thought I’d say this but I’m getting used to this place. I like it.’

  He raised his eyebrows.

  ‘I’d have hated anywhere, where I was in my …’ she pointed to her head. ‘It was autumn, everything was dying, the town closed down for the winter. It was dark, cold. I was miserable –’

  ‘No!’

  She punched him gently on the shoulder. ‘But everything seems so much better now.’ Self-consciousness gripped her; she’d drive him away. ‘Telling Mum about Ben and all that. I’d never have done that if you’d not enc
ouraged me.’

  Turning from the fire towards her, he said, ‘You would. You’re strong, Saffron. Stronger than most, stronger than you realise.’

  She didn’t think he’d looked more handsome than he did right here, right now. ‘Time heals too, doesn’t it?’ she said. She thought of her mother and Eifion and her father.

  ‘Does it? I’m not so sure.’ He turned away from her, raked his fingers through his strip of thick hair, his mouth tight. She thought of the girl in the photograph, in a room she shouldn’t have been in. That girl was the source of Joe’s pain; she knew it. He was grieving; it was obvious. She couldn’t believe she’d missed it till now. Too self-absorbed, she conceded.

  ‘Joe, have you lost someone you love too?’ It hurt to say it. Envy pricked, irrational and ugly, but unstoppable. There was another with a hold on Joe’s affections.

  He remained fixed on the fire, silent, hunched over, his forearms resting on his knees, the blanket a crumpled heap at his feet.

  ‘I saw a picture, in your room, last time I was here. I shouldn’t have been snooping, it was an awful thing to do, but it’s too late. I saw it. The girl. The one who looks like you.’ She reached over and placed her hand over his, relieved he’d didn’t flinch or pull away. She would have deserved as much. ‘Is she your sister? Did something happen to her, Joe?’ she babbled, once started, unable to stop. ‘Please, tell me. If you share, your pain will be lessened. I can’t promise it will go away, but it will lessen.’

  I can help you. Open yourself to me.

  ‘Not my sister,’ he said. ‘No.’

  He shook her hand away and Saffron felt the earth crumbling beneath her, ready to suck her in. She should never have started this.

  ‘Far from it. And she’s not dead. She’s very much alive.’

  Saffron was falling.

  Joe’s first thought when Saffron confessed to poking around in his bedroom was that it served him right; he should have chucked the picture away months ago, years ago. He waited for anger to control him. Anger at Saffron for being such a Pandora, rage at Allegra for maintaining a hold on him, a grip so fierce he couldn’t get rid of a stupid holiday snapshot. He’d destroyed all the other mementoes, why not that one?