by Laura Kemp
‘Looks like we’re taking ’ome ’alf the beach with us!’ Spike said, dusting himself down as he got behind the wheel, blasting the air con to cool them all down. He turned to Annie and smiled, making her feel warm inside. ‘Of all the places we could’ve gone and we ended up beside the seaside, beside the sea!’
A regular visitor now to their home, Annie had been there when Spike had said Arthur could pick anywhere, within reason, to celebrate his big day. A tour of the Millennium Stadium in Cardiff? A go on Europe’s longest zip wire in North Wales? Mountain biking? White-water rafting? But his main concern had been what they’d do with Teg. ‘I’ll have her!’ she’d said as if it was obvious. ‘But you’re coming … aren’t you?’ he’d said, as if it was even more obvious. ‘Dad, Annie can come, can’t she?’
Me? she’d thought, flattered, even if it was just a show of manners. Of course, she’d said she hadn’t expected an invite, what did Arthur want her there for? Take a friend instead! And then it became clear that everyone was ‘busy’ – it could have been true, because his birthday was during half-term, yet it wasn’t inconceivable that parents were making excuses. Annie knew that feeling. Once Spike had finished lying prostrate to convince her she was welcome, she agreed: ‘I’d love to!’ Immediately, Arthur had suggested the beach, somewhere fun which had something for everyone. That dog had unveiled Arthur’s true nature – beneath the armour of his worries, he was thoughtful, generous and kind. Annie had known just the place: beautiful Barmouth beach, which had it all and was only a ninety-minute drive away.
And they’d had a right day of it in gorgeous sunshine. Candy floss, fairground rides, amusements, sandcastles, fish and chips and mooching round the tacky touristy shops, where they still sold clingfilmed plates of ‘bacon and eggs’ made of rock, which Annie remembered from childhood visits here with Nanna and Bampy. All three had ended up on trampolines while a tethered Teg drooled with envy at her mad humans. She got her chance to bounce on a dog-friendly stretch of sand, where she went giddy with excitement, splashing in the shallows and deeper, her tail poking up from the water like a submarine periscope. Enchanted by her contagious joy, their just-in-case swimsuits were whipped on and they ran together holding hands, Arthur in the middle, screaming as the freezing water hit their feet, stomachs, chests and shoulders. They’d dried off on towels for an hour or so, lazing drunk on the great outdoors, with salt crystals leaving their skin pleasingly tight, all in the shadow of Snowdonia, with the mountain of Cader Idris rising spectacularly behind them. Naturally, she had felt self-conscious at being half-naked in her sensible black one-piece, her scars and stretch marks, cellulite and corns on show. She had a functional relationship with her body: it was strong, it worked and she was thankful, but she hadn’t considered herself a sensual person since … well, ever. Spike was an absolute gent, never making her feel uncomfortable; but then why would he when he was so clearly out of her league? Only now, as Annie sank into her seat, did she allow herself to think how gorgeous he was. Muscly without being too like a bodybuilder, toned without the shouty six-pack, with a wide smooth chest and chunky thighs that tapered to elegant calves and perfect toenails. In other words, the opposite of Dean. She realised that this was the first time she’d thought of him all day. It was incredible because usually he haunted her twenty-four-seven. The silent calls continued, no doubt to intimidate her into dropping her challenge on his custody bid. She wouldn’t think of him any more – she wouldn’t let him spoil a wonderful day.
A happy tiredness settled on them as they began the drive home. In the mirror of the sun visor, she saw that despite a slathering of suncream, Arthur’s face had become a dot-to-dot of lovely freckles. He must’ve got that from his mam; she’d been fairer than Spike, whose natural glow had become golden, making his eyes bluer and his teeth whiter. While he was sun-kissed, Annie, as usual, was sun-snogged – she’d have strap marks already. She got it from Bampy, who’d been dark until his hair turned white.
Look at yourself, she thought, seeing a deep furrow on her forehead, and the beginnings of what would be liver spots as she aged. Her hair, getting more silver with every examination, was dramatically waved and stiff with salt; her lips tasted of it, too. What a bloody state. Then again, if she started wearing make-up and fussing over her appearance in Spike’s company, he might realise how she felt and as far as she was concerned she wouldn’t even confess that under interrogation. Being friends, as ever, as she would stick to even if the sky caved in, was more than enough.
‘Annie, say that place name again, the funny one!’ Arthur called.
‘What? Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllan-tysiliogogogoch?’
‘Yes!’
‘Known as Llanfair PG for short.’
‘And what does it mean again?’
‘St Mary’s Church in the hollow of the white hazel near a rapid whirlpool and the church of St Tysilio of the red cave.’
‘How do you remember it?’ Spike said.
‘No idea! I was obsessed with it as a kid; I’ve never been there, but I was so jealous if anyone brought back photos of themselves standing next to the sign at the railway station. I think it was because when I was growing up, Wales was kind of England’s poor relation – it still is in many respects, but it was worse then and we had to look for things to be proud of, stuff that made us stand out.’
‘We should go! Get that photo!’ Arthur mimed a selfie – and then realised he’d gone at least six hours without technology. ‘Dad! My phone! Can I have it?’
‘Annie’s got it. Do the honours, will you? Ta!’
She handed it to him with the juice pack she’d got him as her gift. ‘Thank you!’ he sang, finding his earbuds, popping them in and switching himself off from the world.
‘He’s been a different boy since you’ve been around,’ Spike said, quietly, giving her a quick glance of gratitude. ‘Like he was before.’
‘He’s a great kid. That’s Teg working her magic, that is, not me!’
‘Partly, yes, but he’s really fond of you.’ He paused. ‘When you walk in to the cottage, the mood lifts straight away. It’s not like ’avin’ a visitor, like we’re on our best behaviour, we can be ourselves. You’re a big part of our lives.’
Annie was so touched – he made it sound as if she was a rainbow when she had always felt like a black cloud. ‘That means a lot to me, Spike. It works both ways though; you two let me in and I love coming over.’
‘And today’s been amazing, you didn’t have to come but I appreciate it, that you did.’
‘What? I was thrilled to be asked! You’ve given me the chance to enjoy some of your family time.’ It was so easy to talk openly with Spike – even easier being side by side: you could be more open because you weren’t face to face. ‘Not having kids of my own, it’s lovely to borrow Arthur.’
‘You can borrow ’im anytime!’ he laughed. ‘You’re on his wavelength, you don’t talk down to ’im, you knew Barmouth would suit ’im down to the ground. The beach was a special place for Arthur and Lucy. She’d take ’im down to Brighton for the day sometimes or Camber Sands, Broadstairs. A right pair of beach bums, they were. Every ’oliday we’d book, I’d say, shall we go, I dunno, somewhere other than the beach – a city, the mountains, the jungle! I knew we’d never go but I’d get a kick out of them teamin’ up against me, outraged at my suggestion.’
‘He must miss her so much. You too.’
‘Yeah, of course, and two years on it ain’t any less heart-breaking. But finally I can see a way forwards. It was probably out of sheer desperation that I upped sticks and moved ’ere. I just couldn’t be around the old places any longer. I needed it at first, it was a comfort to ’ave ’er there around us. Then I ended up feeling suffocated by it, it was just a different phase of grief. Had we stayed we’d have worked it out. I’m glad we came though and in time I think Arthur will be too, ’e’s getting there. Loves the
gardening club, Teg’s everyfing to ’im and I even had a nice call from ’is teacher at the end of last week saying his behaviour has started to improve. You’ve played a part in that. I’m not saying you’re a substitute mum, ’course not, but a female in the ’ouse, not just any female, natch, I mean you, yourself …’ he was gabbling now, in case he’d offended her, ‘… you soften the edges, you make us less sharp, if you get me?’
He needn’t worry. ‘I know exactly! You need balance. But also I get Arthur, I think, because I was the same as him. My mam walked out of my life and hasn’t been in it since. It messed me up.’
‘Do you ever see her?’
‘She doesn’t want to know me.’ Her voice no longer caught when she told people this. She was used to it.
‘How can a parent be like that?’ Spike was incensed. ‘I mean, I know dads walk away all the time, and it’s much rarer for mums, but whoever is doing it, they must be really selfish or ill.’
‘Or young. Or all three. I’ve let it go now, I was angry at her for a long long time. It made me want to be accepted, to belong, whether that was hanging around street corners to try to be in the cool gang or marrying a man I thought it was my duty to please. But I’ve survived.’
‘What did I say? You’re a healer! You need your own surgery.’
‘I’ve never told anyone this …’ she hesitated. Was this too much of herself to give and to lay bare? She had imagined if she had ever told anyone they’d be a very trusted confidante, a soulmate. Yet she and Spike had only known each other a few months. But it felt the most natural thing to open up about hanging up her muddy boots, having her own Aladdin’s cave of organic herbal this and that. She was a bit frightened he’d see her as ridiculous though. But no.
‘Wow, that sounds cool. I could see you doing that. Annie’s Apothecary!’
Could he be any more lovely?
‘You could hire a corner of a shop to start with. Hey, why not mine?’
He was only teasing. ‘I’ve always thought there’s a market for airy fairy products for manly DIY types,’ she laughed.
‘Ah, but it’s nice to dream.’
‘What’s your dream then?’ Annie wanted to know everything about this man.
‘I only ’ave ’em for Arthur. I don’t have any for myself any more. Losing Lucy took something away from me that I’ll never replace. It’s all about ’im now.’
‘Maybe you’re just not there yet …’ Deep inside she yearned for him to mention finding something or someone again – to hint if he ever thought of love, that it was a possibility she could hold on to.
‘There’s a lot to take on.’
She couldn’t speak, not right now – she’d only blurt everything out. She pressed her lips together hard, to seal them, and looked out of her window and sat on her hands, because otherwise she’d place them on him and tell him he was her heart’s desire. He was so special, Arthur too, the four of them including Teg would make a great bunch.
Whoa. It frightened her how quickly she’d put them all into one unit: it was impractical, unrealistic and downright stupid. Tiny steps would only ever be the way. Arthur was the most important thing in this equation. Her sudden realisation found her a way through. She had to park those feelings, it was that simple. The rest of the journey was quiet – the winding A470 and the breathtaking scenery of mountains and valleys deserved a bit of respect.
As they came to the outskirts of Gobaith, Arthur piped up slightly too loudly over whatever he was listening to. ‘Dad! Are we having a birthday tea when we get in?’
‘’Course!’ Spike said. ‘Posh sarnies—’
‘Cut in triangles?’ Arthur took his earbuds out of one ear.
‘Yep. Our special crisp mix – Monster Munch, Hula Hoops, Ready Salted—’
‘And Wotsits!’
He might be heading towards adolescence but Arthur was still a small child at heart. Weren’t we all? Annie loved a birthday tea too!
‘Obviously!’
‘A place for Mum?’
Spike nodded at him in the rear-view mirror. ‘A tradition of ours,’ he explained to Annie, ‘done it every year ever since. Same food, same squash, same same.’
‘Cake after?’
‘Malteser one, mate!’
‘He’ll grow out of it one day,’ Spike said to Annie. ‘But I’ll do it if he still wants it even when he’s forty!’
‘Why wouldn’t you!’
‘You’ll come in for cake, won’t you?’ Spike said.
‘You have to,’ Arthur said, ‘otherwise Teg will be sad if you go straight off.’
‘In that case …’ Annie laughed, feeling back on track with this dynamic, taking it for what it was: a platonic friendship with a kid at the heart, a lovely mess of a thing with a stinking wet dog thrown in.
Arthur started to pump the air with his fist. ‘Yeeees! You’ve fallen for my dastardly plan!’
She swivelled her head round, gasping, covering her open mouth with her hand, pretending to be in shock at being his fool.
‘You both have!’
‘Eh?’ Spike said, as they pulled up outside the cottage.
‘Well, Dad was going to say something to you, Annie, weren’t you, Dad? And then he chickened out, and now he has to say it now you’re coming in. Don’t you, Dad! Doesn’t he, Annie?’
Spike groaned and he was blushing and touching the tip of his nose in embarrassment. ‘Arthur!’
His son was already out of his seat, having decided whatever was about to happen would be ‘so cringe’ that he couldn’t bear to hear it. ‘Just tell me what she says, Dad. Come on, Teg!’
‘Oh, no. Has the dog got terrible farts?’
‘Er, no. Not quite.’ He took a breath and gave an awkward smile. ‘Look, it was just a thing I said in passing and Arthur kind of got excited and um, you know I don’t want to ruin this, but I wondered … would you be up for going to the disco … with me? It’s fine if not …’
‘Oh! Right!’ OH YES! She hadn’t expected that. Was he asking her on a date? Surely not; he’d alluded to the fact that he wasn’t in the zone. But then again he was fidgeting with nerves. She was all of a dither. Did it matter what his motive was? Not at all. ‘Okay, yes. I’d love to!’
‘Great. I was thinking of what we could go as. Like as a couple. Not that I mean we’re a couple, ha, no, as in … whatever … I was thinking I could be Axl Rose and you could be Slash.’
He was the sweetest thing! ‘Well, I wouldn’t need a wig! Sounds brilliant.’
‘Cool, lav-er-ly.’ He rubbed his hands and his eyes twinkled at her. She was definitely getting some vibes off him. Well, she never! A shyness crept upon her at the prospect of what was possibly something there between them.
‘Right, well, shall we …?’ she said, taking off her seat belt.
‘Yes! There’s birthday tea to be made! I’ll butter and fill.’
‘And I’ll do the triangles!’
They got out of the van, him jangling his keys, and he gestured ladies first up the path with his hand. Arthur was looking shifty by the front door. As Spike unlocked it and let Annie in, she heard him whisper, ‘She said yes, son.’
‘Told you!’ Arthur said. ‘I’ll go and set her a place at the table.’
And as he whipped past her to get to the kitchen, he gave a huge ‘Wahoo!’ which almost matched the elation in Annie’s heart.
24
We came on a recommendation of belting scenery and a big Welsh welcome but were warned to expect no-frills camping. So we were bowled over to find it had had an upgrade! Super facilities yet not fancy-pants, with a special charm of its own. Thank you, Wanda and Lyn, for a wonderful stay – we left feeling like family.
Audrey and Bob P., Lancashire
Campsite Visitors’ Book
The sunshine of half-term week had co
ntinued into June and Gobaith was roasting like a leg of lamb.
The scorching fortnight had turned the campsite grass yellow and there’d been a run on tent pegs at reception to replace bent ones because the earth was as hard as a miner’s hat.
But tomorrow, in the early hours, the weather would break. This may have been their summer. And so locals and tourists alike were spending Saturday night in the beer garden of the Travellers’ Rest, on a last hurrah to soak up the final balmy evening.
Wanda had tried to resist but Mam and Carys had ganged up on her to take the weekend off: she’d pulled double shifts in the week because Carys had been laid up in bed with a cold. All but one of the pitches were occupied, from Friday to Monday, so nothing major would be required: for goodness’ sake, the pair of them had said, they were more than capable of cleaning the bathroom, refilling loo roll, emptying bins, giving out directions, selling logs and whatever else came up.
She hadn’t realised how knackered she was. With no 6 a.m. alarm to wake her, she’d got up this morning at the luxurious time of 9 a.m., stretching like a cat, taking her time to shower and dress. Then it was outside to join the queue for a breakfast bap and posh coffee at Sunny Side Up, the name of Alis’s new venture. The ice cream van had been resprayed yellow, matching deckchairs were set out and from the speaker came not a grating twinkly chime but a background playlist of easy-listening tunes. Eavesdropping on the campers, Wanda learned they liked having a break from their frying pans – her friend had pulled it off. The rest of the day had been spent reading and resting and she could feel the benefits as she wandered back to the picnic table with a tray of drinks from the bar. Life was good: the campsite was earning again, Mam no longer needed walking aids and Carys was blooming. Just like the honeysuckle and jasmine, which gave off a heavenly scent.
‘Cider for you two,’ Wanda said to Annie and Spike, who had moved even closer in her absence. If they hadn’t touched tongues yet it would only be a matter of time. Totally comfortable in each other’s company, they both looked dazed when they returned every now and then to the group chat, self-conscious that they were only talking to each other but then sliding back into it, unable to stop themselves. She didn’t blame them, though – they were dazzling together: Annie’s tumbling glossy dark hair against her brown skin complementing Spike’s blond hulking Scandinavian look. Fair play to them, they had to make the most of a babysitter for Arthur.
