by Mary Grand
‘It was a long time ago.’
‘I know, but I need to go. Let’s call it unfinished business.’
‘That sounds even odder. What’s this all about?’
Elizabeth looked deep into Richard’s eyes. For a spilt second she was tempted to tell him, just spill it all out. She imagined the relief. She saw the tenderness and compassion in his eyes, but then she remembered the way he had spoken about the bond with his children. No, he would never understand, and she couldn’t bear for him to hate her.
She looked away. ‘I can’t talk about it, but it ended in a dark place. I need to go and make peace.’
‘Sounds heavy, as Jason would say.’
‘It is, so I need to sort it out.’
‘Where will you stay?’
‘Just a B & B. It’s in a tiny village up the road from Rhossili called Bryn Draig’.
‘Eh? You’d never stay less than five stars–’
‘The only hotel said they were booked up. I found a list of places to stay, and rang round to find a vacancy. I haven’t had time to research it, and it’s not on Tripadvisor. There’s no website but, if it’s not up to much, l’ll just find somewhere else once I’m down there.’
‘That’s taking a bit of a chance.’
‘Not really. They are all boutique now: plasma TV, en suite, wifi. I didn’t ask. There was just a number, but I’m sure it will be fine.’
Suddenly Richard looked serious, nervous. ‘You will think about what we talked about, won’t you?’
Elizabeth’s mug started to shake so violently that she thought the tea would spill. Carefully, she placed it on the coffee table.
‘Of course. But you know why I’m worried–’
‘I know you’re frightened of commitment. Heaven knows, you’ve told me enough times, but we’ve been together quite a while now.’
Elizabeth shook her head. ‘It’s not that, really. If I knew you would definitely never want children–’
‘You know I can’t say that. I may be old, but I can’t promise never to want more. You’d be a great mother.’
‘No. No, I wouldn’t. You don’t understand. I shall never have children, never had–’ Elizabeth sighed. ‘Why can’t we stay as we are?’
‘Because we have to move forward. I don’t like living on my own, and I don’t think you do either. We can’t just stay still.’
‘So, really, it’s an ultimatum.’
‘I’m sorry. I think it might be. Go away and think about it this week. OK? Then we can talk again.’
Elizabeth twisted the strand of hair tighter and tighter, then said, ‘I think you’d better go and pack.’
Richard stood up, and kissed her gently on the cheek. His lips felt like butterfly wings brushing her cheek. Elizabeth’s heart fluttered. What was the matter with her?
‘OK,’ he said. ‘You have my number. I’ll be back in London on Thursday. When do you plan to get back?’
‘I expect I’ll come back a week Sunday. I’ll just be gone for a few days. Maybe I’ll go on to Bath, somewhere like that, have a look around.’
‘Maybe I could come down and join you?’
‘Oh, no. No, don’t come. I don’t know how long I will be anywhere.’ Elizabeth panicked.
‘OK. Well, I hope you resolve whatever you need to.’
Richard stood up and went inside to pack his things. Elizabeth sat, knowing that some people would be chasing in after him, crying, saying sorry. Well, that was not her way. She looked over at Poppy lying alone in the sun and thought maybe that was the way it had to be for her: lying alone in the sun.
Richard came back, his face strained. He kissed Elizabeth gently on the forehead. ‘Take care. Do you still want me to come and water the plants?’
Elizabeth nodded, and wrote down the key code. ‘Thank you’ she said, giving it to him. He didn’t say anything. He just left.
Elizabeth heard the front door shut, and went back inside. It seemed quiet, empty. She went upstairs to have a shower. In the bathroom she tutted as she picked up the wet towel from the floor, then retuned the radio to Radio Four. She had never liked music, preferred people talking. She showered, and realised how tired she was. Maybe yoga at home tonight instead of the gym?
Back in the bedroom, she sat wrapped in her towel and started to blow dry her long black hair. She scowled as she saw a white hair, and pulled it out quickly.
Then she opened her dressing table drawer. Hidden under a pile of art catalogues, she found, wrapped in tissue paper, a small white wooden box made to look like a plain white book. She had had it for years, but it was immaculate. On three edges were gold etchings to look like pages, and on the fourth a white decorated spine. The lid was the ‘cover’, which opened on gold hinges. She stroked it, but couldn’t bear to look at the contents. Instead, she looked at a photograph she had also hidden under the catalogues. It had been taken the week before Aled’s party. She saw the secretive, barely hidden excitement in the eyes of the girl posing: a girl whose head was full of Disney endings. But she hadn’t had her fairytale, far from it. That smock dress hid a secret. Lucky that it had been in fashion: like those ridiculous, heavy boots.
Suddenly, Elizabeth knew she couldn’t sit there on her own and wait another night. Why not go now?
She telephoned the cattery: yes, she could bring Poppy early. She realised that booking her into one of the most expensive catteries meant that at least they had vacancies, even at the height of the summer season. She found the number for the B & B. The quiet Welsh voice of the woman on reception sounded flustered, chatty.
‘You want to come tonight, not tomorrow?’
‘That’s right. I wondered if you had a spare room?’
‘Oh, yes. That would be fine.’
‘Right, good. So I can come tonight?’
‘Of course. But where are you now?’
‘London.’
‘Oh, my goodness. Whatever time will you arrive?’
‘It should only take me about four to five hours. If I leave now, I hope to be with you by ten. Would that be alright?’
‘Of course. You won’t be much later, though?’
‘No, unless there are hold ups. If there’s a problem I’ll ring, find somewhere else en route.’
‘Oh, good. That’s fine.’
‘Yes, right. I’d better go and get organised.’
‘Of course. I’ll see you later, then.’
Elizabeth thought it all sounded rather informal. Still, they could give her a room: that’s what mattered.
Elizabeth got out her paisley Stella McCartney jumpsuit. She thought this would be the right kind of casual wear for her visit. She had bought a few from the ready to wear collection, and packed them with some lace-lined slip dresses. To these, she added a pair of Calvin Klein jeans, a few T shirts and a cashmere jumper, in case it was cold. She also packed silk lingerie, her Clinique make-up collection, Miu Miu pink-tinted sunglasses, and, of course, her jewellery wrap. Then she looked in her drawer and took out two long rectangular documents. She would take them: best be prepared. Carefully, she folded them and zipped them into her handbag.
Elizabeth heard the cat flap clunk, went and found the cat basket, but left it upstairs. She tried to go back down nonchalantly. Was she imagining the suspicious look on Poppy’s face? Quickly, she picked her up, took her upstairs, and posted poor Poppy into her cat basket. With a background racket of loud cat protest she packed, checked the house, and then went out to load the car.
After that, Elizabeth checked around, set the alarm, and looked again at her home. She gave a satisfied smile. All safe, organised, like her life. She realised how nervous she was now, going back, revisiting the past. Still, she had decided to go and, just think, soon it would all be over.
Chapter Seven
‘Tell me the rest of what happened that night,’ said Bethan, wiping the tears away with the back of her hand.
Catrin swallowed hard. She was frightened to speak now.
�
�We went into the house. I noticed the girl was standing on her own. I went to the bathroom. Then I heard shouting from the study. I went in and–’
‘What happened?’
‘Grandma, my Mum, was having a row with Aled.’
‘What about?’
Catrin started to scratch her wrist. She said, ‘I don’t know. They stopped when I went in. It seemed unbelievable: they never argued. He was in a right state. Mum was as white as a sheet. Aled then shouted out that he was going to Worm’s Head and left the room. I though he was joking. I mean, it was such a ridiculous thing to say. I thought he was just trying to wind Mum up for some reason. I didn’t seriously think he would go out in the pitch black and rain and go anywhere, let alone there. It was all so odd. Aled never lost his temper. Mum, your Grandma, was upset, so I settled her down and then I went to find your Grandad. He said he’d seen Aled leave with the girl, and that I had to go and get him back. Well, it was dark and raining heavily. Your dad didn’t want me to go anywhere.’
‘I’m not surprised. Aled was twenty seven. He wasn’t a child, and he certainly wouldn’t want his sister coming after him if he’d gone off with a girl.’
‘Grandad seemed really worried about him. He was very insistent that I go. I didn’t understand that, either, but he was very upset.’
‘But why? Aled was just having a tantrum by the sound of it.’
Catrin cringed. ‘I don’t know. I don’t understand, but I knew it was serious. Anyway, Grandad persuaded us to go. It was pitch black, no stars or moon even, just sheets of black. We pulled into the car park, next to Aled’s car. I shone my torch though the window but there was nobody in it. Your dad said they might have gone to the hotel, for a drink. I didn’t think so, but we ran over. We looked around, but they obviously weren’t there. The rain was really heavy by then, and your Dad wanted to go back, but I persuaded him to go on to the headland, even though it was very dangerous. We went though the gate and started to walk along. It was awful. Then I spotted the girl lying on the ground, near to the cliff edge. Your father looked at her, said she was unconscious. We could see that she was pregnant. She obviously needed an ambulance. Of course, we didn’t have mobiles then, but luckily a fisherman came over and went to phone for help.’
‘But where was Aled?’
‘The fisherman said he’d passed someone heading towards the causeway, and that it would be covered over very soon. I was really worried about Aled, that he would try to get to Worm’s Head.’
‘But why would he go there that night? It was a really dangerous thing to do.’
Catrin bit her lip. ‘I don’t know, but I was very frightened he might. So, despite your father trying to stop me, I made my way towards the causeway.’
‘In the dark?’
‘Yes, I was so scared. I held on to the fence. Well I got to the top of the path down to the causeway. The sea was coming in and starting to cover the causeway. There was no sign of Aled. I fell down. I realised I couldn’t go any further, so I just clung on to some rocks until your Dad and a policeman came and found me.’
‘And what about the girl?’
‘She’d gone off in an ambulance. I didn’t see her again.
‘We drove straight back to the house. Grandad was in the hallway waiting. He was very worried. He knew something was seriously wrong. I told him that search and rescue had been called, that the girl had gone to hospital.’
‘And Grandma, what did she do?’
‘Oh she was in the kitchen, obviously very upset. She crossed herself. I remember that. I’d never seen her do it before.’
Catrin sat back on the sand. She ran the dry warm sand though her fingertips. She was exhausted. It was as if she’d lived through the night all over again. The warm sand was soothing, but she knew Bethan was waiting.
‘Aled’s body was found the next day, washed up on the beach.’
‘That’s awful. To be out there alone in the dark and rain. Why ever did he go there? It should have been a wonderful night, a party in his honour. He was coming home to a good job. I don’t understand why he went off and did something so stupid.’
‘It is very difficult to understand.’
‘And my birth mother?’
‘Grandad went to see her. He talked to her.’
‘But you didn’t?’
‘No. I went back to Cardiff to look after Lowri. You were born soon after. It was then that your Dad and I were asked about adopting you. Grandad had originally suggested it to Elizabeth in the hospital. Elizabeth talked it over with her aunt and the social worker, and agreed. Then the social worker came to speak to us. It was all done properly. We had to be approved as adopters. All the papers were signed. Then it was the social worker who brought you to us.’
‘I would like to have met my birth mother.’ Bethan looked up, her face pale but determined.
‘I know.’
Bethan looked over towards the causeway thoughtfully. ‘I really need to visit Worm’s Head now.’
Catrin shuddered at the thought of going to Worm’s Head: no way would she go there. However, she said, ‘Maybe. If there is time.’
‘It‘s important to me, Mum. I need to.’
Bethan screwed up her eyes, put her head to one side.
‘Why did Aled run off?’
‘I’m not sure. Maybe he was trying to get help for Elizabeth or something.’
‘But the fisherman said he was running towards the causeway not back to the village.’
‘Well, yes.’ Catrin stopped and bit her lip. ‘I don’t know. We’ll never know what happened out there. It was just a terrible accident. He did know that she was pregnant. Grandad told me that. He knew, and was really pleased.’
‘He wanted me?’
‘I’m sure of it.’
‘So why did he run away?’
‘I don’t know. We’ll never know that.’
Bethan leant down and started to pick up shells. When she spoke, her voice was hard.
‘But my birth mother just wanted to get rid of me?’
‘It was so hard, love. She was young, nineteen.’
‘That’s older than me.’
‘I know, but she was young in her ways as well. Her life had been pretty sheltered, I think. I’m sure she thought she was doing the best she could for you. Grandad spent a lot of time with her in the hospital. It was obviously the best thing for you to come to us.’
‘Why was that?’
‘Elizabeth’s parents were older and lived abroad. She’d been to boarding school I think and she didn’t want them to know she’d had a baby. They were very religious, I think. Anyway, she was young. She didn’t feel ready to raise a child. I’m sure she was trying to do the best thing for you.’
‘And how did she die?’
‘An accident skiing abroad, I think. The most important thing is that your father and I love you very much. You are our daughter. You and I bonded quickly, and you were beautiful. I remember the first time I held you. You had lots of black hair even then. Lowri was so excited to be having a little sister.’
Bethan stood looking out to sea, then over at Worm’s Head. I’m sure both your birth mother and Aled would be very proud of you and all you’ve done,’ said Catrin.
Bethan didn’t reply.
‘Are you alright, love?’
Bethan gave a sad half-smile. ‘Yes, Mum. I wish you’d told me the truth before, though.’
Catrin didn’t comment, but it didn’t mean she agreed with Bethan. In her experience, people often preferred a sweet lie to a difficult truth. Throughout her teens she had told lies, lies to protect, lies to sooth people. We all want a happy ending. She remembered once when the art teacher had asked her if everything was alright at home. She had nearly told the truth. She had liked him, trusted him. For a moment she wondered if he was different. Then she had noticed him anxiously holding his breath, and realised that he was no different. ‘It’s all fine,’ she had replied. His sigh of relief told her all that she neede
d to know. The teacher had not wanted the truth. Even he wanted it easy.
Catrin looked at Bethan. She had told her far more of the difficult stuff of life than she would have wanted. That was enough for today.
‘Now, let’s get Grandad some supper, or he’ll be really grumpy.’
They climbed back up off the beach. It was tough going. Catrin suddenly felt exhausted. But that was over. Just the memorial, the week and whatever that ridiculous surprise her father had planned. Soon the house would be sold and the past could be finally packed away for ever.
Chapter Eight
Elizabeth pulled into Rhossili car park, and rested back on the leather headrest. It had been her first decent drive in her new blue Audi and, once she had crawled through the London traffic and had broken free on to the M4 she had enjoyed it.
Of course, it had been hard leaving poor Poppy incarcerated in the cattery. It may be the best ‘Cat Hotel’ in London, with her ‘room’ equipped with chairs and a sofa, and meals of fresh fish and liver provided, but they couldn’t provide Poppy with what she really wanted, which was her own territory in which to hunt and kill.
Elizabeth switched off the air conditioning and opened the windows. The stop at the services for much needed coffee had been horrendous. She had found herself having to sit outside. She had been surrounded by fractious children, tired at the end of a busy day, with equally stressed parents. On the next table a woman had lit a cigarette. Elizabeth had scowled at her, amazed that there was anyone left smoking.
She had enjoyed the drive over the Severn Bridge, and had glanced over at the old bridge, looking like a dinosaur, sad and neglected. The journey to Swansea from there had been slow. It was a few hours later that she finally found herself driving up from the seafront at Swansea to Gower.