by Mary Grand
‘Yes. They went shopping.’
‘You should be involved. You can’t let Bethan just go off with some stranger.’
‘There wasn’t much I could do about it. To be honest, Gareth, I don’t think you have a right to criticise me. I’ve had to deal with this all on my own. I decided that Bethan is nearly eighteen, and that she could go. Anyway, it was arranged without me. You know what Bethan’s like if she thinks we are confronting her. She’d be a lot worse. At least this way she is telling me what is happening.’
‘And what’s Elizabeth like?’
‘She’s very together. Not married. Doesn’t have kids. Well off. Her parent sent her to boarding school.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes. She wears weird clothes, you know, designer. She owns art galleries in London and New York.’
‘Well, that will impress Bethan and your father, I should think.’
‘It did.’
‘So why hasn’t Elizabeth been in touch before?’
‘She didn’t want to interfere. She says she hadn’t intended to talk to Bethan at the memorial. She was just going to leave quietly.’
‘But they are with each other today–’
‘I know. Elizabeth seems to have had a change of heart.’
‘And what did you make of her? As a person, I mean?’
‘I don’t know. She’s quite assertive. Likes her own way, I should think.’
‘That’s where Bethan gets it from, then.’
‘And Elizabeth signs.’
‘Really? How’s that?’
‘Her mother was Deaf.’
‘Really? Do they know why?’
‘She had German Measles as a child.’
‘Oh, so that doesn’t help Bethan, then.’
‘No.’
‘It must help that she can sign, though?’
‘Yes, Bethan says it’s old-fashioned but, of course, it makes it a lot easier for them. They seem to get on well.’ Catrin felt her voice break, but Gareth missed it.
‘Maybe it could be a good thing; at least she might put this nonsense about America out of Bethan’s mind.’
Catrin sniffed. ‘Actually, Dad said he was thinking her having a gallery in New York might encourage Bethan.’
‘I can imagine from Bethan’s point of view that this is good news. You know, she’s nearly eighteen. She must have a lot of questions. It’s a good thing Elizabeth is alive. Bethan can meet the real person. I’ve never been comfortable with the way your father has built up Aled into some kind of hero. Meeting her birth mother will perhaps help her.’
‘I suppose so, but it’s all so sudden, and Bethan has just leapt into it with both feet.’
‘That’s just the way Bethan is. You watch, there’ll be drama soon, and we’ll have to pick up the pieces.’
‘You think so?’
‘Of course. But, on balance, I think it could be a good thing for her to meet her real mother.’
The words shot home like a bullet.
‘I’m her real mother,’ Catrin said quietly.
‘Well–’
The rational tone grated. ‘I am her mother’ she said more firmly, adding ‘And actually, you are her father, but you’re not here. You’re never here. You shouldn’t have just stormed off on Sunday night. You should have answered my calls. It’s not fair to leave everything to me.’
‘Hey, calm down, now,’ said Gareth, in his annoying ‘pat on the head’ voice. ‘Don’t worry. It’ll work out.’
‘You always say that, but maybe this time it won’t–’
It went quiet. Catrin heard the sound of his keyboard. She realised Gareth was back working. Mentally, he had ‘moved on to the next patient’.
Stifling the scream of frustration, Catrin said, ‘I need you here. So does Bethan.’
‘I’m sure you’re handling it all fine. Tell Bethan to text me if she wants. Try not to worry about it. I really need to get on, try to relax this evening. Right, better go.’
The line went dead.
Catrin sat back in the chair, clenching and unclenching her fists. She felt so much hurt and inner rage but she didn’t know what to do. Safi came and sat next to her. She stroked him gently, and started to calm down. Finally, she decided to go back upstairs.
Catrin found the box of keys. This time, she went into her mother’s room. She tried various keys in the lock of the wardrobe. Catrin was about to give up when one slipped into the lock. She turned it, and the doors opened.
It was odd to see her mother’s clothes hanging up. Very neat and smart. Catrin held a dress to her face; the smell was still there. It shocked her. Her mother had certain perfumes like Chanel Number Five, which she always wore, and the scent lingered on her clothes. For the first time in a long time, Catrin felt an overwhelming sense of loss for her mother. Coming here reminded her of the good times with her. The really awful times, well, they had been in Cardiff. When her mother had died, Catrin was ashamed to admit to an enormous sense of relief. It had been so hard covering up for her mother, rushing around at all times with two young children to look after. All those years of worrying about her mother had come to an end with her death but it had been exhausting. She had hardly cried at the time, just felt numb, but, as she held her mother’s clothes, the tears came easily, and they felt healing. It was a relief to know that she really had loved her mother, and missed her.
Catrin started taking the clothes out of the wardrobe. They were clean and in very good condition. She folded them carefully to take to a charity shop, although she wondered whether anybody would want these old styles. The shoes were more worn. She thought they should probably be thrown away. Once the wardrobe was emptied, Catrin noticed a large rectangular package, standing upright at the back. She frowned, leant in, pulled it out, laid it on the floor, and opened it.
Catrin stared at the folder in front of her. It was the art portfolio that she had prepared for her interviews back in the sixth form. Whatever was it doing in there? Had her mother brought it here and hidden it? It seemed so odd. Her mother was in pieces at that time from the loss of Nana Beth. Still, maybe she had been petrified of losing Catrin. Was that why she had done it? Catrin started to breathe quickly. Her heart was thumping against her chest. She couldn’t breathe. She thought she was going to die. Safi came over and nuzzled her. She started to stroke him, which helped calm her breathing. She sat back. She could hear the television downstairs. She decided she had to speak to her father.
‘Dad, guess what I have just found,’ she said, her voice shaking.
‘What’s that, then?’
‘My work, all my art. Remember, the stuff they said was lost.’
Lloyd frowned. ‘Sorry?’
‘Remember, the school said they’d lost it, but it’s here.’
‘Hang on. From years ago, you mean?’
‘That’s right. When I was in the sixth form. Come and see. You have to come and see it all.’
Her father, bemused and irritated to be dragged away from the sport on television, followed her upstairs. Catrin’s work was spread over her mother’s bedroom floor. Her father stared down.
‘I’d forgotten that was in there.’
‘She pounced on the words.’
‘Forgotten? You knew.’
He looked sheepish. ‘Well, yes.’
‘You put it there.’
‘It was for the best. Your mother would never have coped with you going away.’
‘You had no right to do that.’
‘I think I did. Look, you were never one for school. I had to keep working. Aled’s school fees didn’t come cheap, you know. I could see your mother was going into meltdown again. I had to do something.’
‘So you decided to ruin my life?’
‘Oh, don’t over dramatise, Catrin. I never ruined your life. Just think, you would never have met Gareth if you’d gone to college. You’d have married some penniless artist instead of a doctor.’
Catrin was speechless. Her father
really didn’t see anything wrong with what he had done.
‘You gave one of the pictures to Angela, didn’t you?’
‘Gosh, yes. I’d forgotten that. She came in when I was putting them away. I offered her one. It was quite good, actually.’
‘You thought I was good?’
He looked away. ‘Well, yes. Yes, you were, but there we are. No money in art, except for a very select few. Sometimes these things work out for the best. Right, I’d better go.’
Catrin watched as he practically ran out of the room, leaving her alone with Safi. She couldn’t believe what she had just heard. She didn’t know how she was meant to react. In some way her father had made a good case for his actions. Something niggled as unfair, but she wasn’t sure what. She went downstairs to the kitchen. From the fridge she took a bottle of white wine, poured herself a glass, drank it quickly, and poured herself another, to take outside. She felt quite dusty and untidy, but shattered. She read a text from Bethan saying that she was having a great day, and that she and Elizabeth were going to the cinema, then to some late night pizza place. She would be quite late.
Catrin sent a text, ‘Don’t be too late. Come back after the cinema.’
Bethan replied. ‘Don’t worry, Elizabeth is giving me a lift. I will be fine. xx.’
Catrin scratched her wrist in frustration. She felt that Elizabeth was taking advantage. It was ridiculous to be out this late. But there was nothing she could do about it. She sat back in the chair and tried to relax. Safi jumped up on to her lap.
‘Well, Safi, it’s just you and me for this evening.’
Safi looked up in response to his name, then closed his eyes again. Catrin was startled a few minutes later by someone shouting.
‘Hi!’ she heard. She looked towards the end of the garden. Harri was waving. Catrin smiled.
‘Come in. I’m all alone. Bethan’s out. Lowri and Mark have gone for a walk, and Dad’s inside watching the Olympics, so I’m out here on my own.’
Harri came into the garden.
Catrin told him about Bethan and Elizabeth.
‘Was that the woman I saw at the memorial?’
‘Very smart.’
‘Yes, I saw her at the hotel having coffee on Sunday morning. She’s very good-looking. Her clothes are fabulous. Wow. So, she’s Bethan’s mother?’
‘Well, yes.’
‘How do you feel about that?’
‘Completely lost, actually. Part of me knows I shouldn’t mind, but I can’t help worrying about her. You know, is this it? Am I just going to lose her now? Elizabeth is, as you saw, so sophisticated, well off. I must seem very dull in comparison.’
‘Don’t be daft. Elizabeth looks quite a prickly woman. I certainly noticed her at the hotel. She’s very striking. I even thought of going to say hello, but there’s something about her, like some exotic but very prickly plant that you admire, but don’t want to go too near.’
‘I don’t want Bethan to be unhappy.’
‘Of course not. Anyway, what does Gareth think?’
‘He seems to think it’ll be OK. I wish he was here, though.’
‘Of course you do. I can’t believe he hasn’t come. It’s only an hour or two’s drive. He can’t be that busy, can he?’
‘He said they’re working on this research.’
‘They?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. People he’s doing the research with.’
‘Did you have a good birthday?’
Catrin laughed. ‘It was great. We went to the pub. Dad gave Bethan an extravagant present and promised her an audition to go to America with some big shot. Gareth stormed off. Perfect.’
‘So it seems to me like you could do with being taken out somewhere–’
‘Oh, no–’
‘Come on. It’s a lovely evening. I know just the place to go.’
‘But Safi–’ Catrin said, starting to weaken.
She can come. It’s OK. We can sit outside. It’s really special.’
Catrin looked around. Everyone had left her. Why not?
Chapter Twenty Three
‘OK, you’re on,’ Catrin told Harri. ‘Give me a few minutes to change, though.’
‘That’s fine. I’ll be here with your dog.’
Catrin ran inside and upstairs. She felt terribly guilty, but also excited. She never did anything like this. Going out for a meal with another man? Well, it may be something more sophisticated people did regularly, but this was something she had never done before. Would Gareth mind? She decided that at the moment she didn’t think he would care in the slightest. It wasn’t a date, anyway. It was going out for a meal with an old friend. She quickly showered and put on her old skirt. Then she remembered how Harri was dressed. She couldn’t go out with him in that old thing. She changed into her new dress and cardigan. Her hair she would just have to give a good brush. She put on a bit of make-up, and hurried back downstairs.
‘Good grief, that was quick,’ said Harri. ‘Francine takes hours to get ready.’
‘That’s because she looks immaculate, I expect.’
‘You look great. Love the dress. Come on, then.’
They walked together though the village to Harri’s car. It was much smarter than Catrin’s or Gareth's, and left hand drive. There was a safe place for Safi in the back. Catrin felt very nervous. Harri started the car. Somehow, the feeling of leaving the house and everyone behind was irresistible.
‘Lovely evening,’ said Harri.
‘Yes. It feels strange, though, to be going out.’
‘Really? My God, Catrin don’t you do anything?’
‘Of course I do. Just not like this.’
‘Well, relax and enjoy the ride.’
Harri leant forward and put on music. It was Mozart, which surprised Catrin. It was the flute concerto which she had watched Bethan play in a concert recently. Catrin looked out of the window, the sun slipping lower in the sky. She saw the ponies on the downs, lazily munching at the grass.
‘Gosh, this is so lovely. I feel like, well, I’m on holiday,’ she said.
‘I think it’s time someone looked after you, Catrin.’
‘Oh, no–’
‘Yes, just this evening. You’re going to let someone else look after you for a change.’
They arrived at a small, stony car park. Catrin got out, let Safi out of the back and put him on his lead. In front of her was a small bistro with tables and chairs outside, overlooking a long sandy bay. The waiter, fortunately, smiled at Safi, and showed them to a table at the edge, looking directly over the beach. There was a dog bowl which Safi sniffed at, but refused to drink from. He settled quietly under the table and put his head on Catrin’s feet. To Catrin’s relief, everyone was in casual clothes, some looking sandy and red from a day’s walking or a day on the beach. It was mainly couples and older people, though: no young children. When she glanced at the menu she could understand why. It all looked appetising, but very expensive. Hand-dived scallops; dressed crab; beef fillet. Lobsters and crabs, fresh from Oxwich Bay, were a speciality, also cockles, laver bread, vegetables from the hotel's walled garden, and eggs from their ducks. The wine list was the longest Catrin had ever seen.
Harri grinned. ‘Hope you haven’t eaten today.’
‘No, I’ve just snacked.’
‘Good.’
‘It’s incredibly expensive–’ she whispered.
Harri laughed. ‘It’s not too bad. Where does Gareth normally takes you for a special night?’
Catrin tried really hard to think when she and Gareth had last been out, just the two of them, for a meal. She could see Harri watching her intently. Quickly she said, ‘Oh, the Ritz of course.’
‘OK. Well, what shall we have here? I know the chef. She’s fantastic.’
Catrin had no idea what to choose.
‘I tell you what,’ said Harri. ‘Let’s go for the taster menu.’
Catrin glanced again at the menu. It seemed to her a staggering amount to spend on
food.
‘Right, what we need is a good bottle of something.’
‘Oh, I don’t drink much–’
‘Well, I’m not buying you a glass. It’s a bottle, or nothing. I’ll just have the one glass, as I’m driving.’
Harri ordered their meal, with a bottle of rosé, and bottled water.
‘So, tell me about your village,’ said Catrin.
‘Collioure used to be a fishing village, famous for its anchovies, and painters like Matisse. It’s getting much more touristy now. I was glad to get away for August. The rest of the time, though, it’s lovely. Much warmer than here, real summer.’
‘So Francine comes from there?’
‘That’s right. Her family go back generations there. It’s a good life.’
‘You enjoy your work?’
‘I do.’
‘But if you and Francine–’
‘If we do split up, well, I have plenty of connections now.’
‘You wouldn’t come back here, then?’
‘No. I would never come back here to live now. It’s wonderful out there. The summers are warm and exotic; the food rich and sumptuous. It’s the most sensuous place to live.’
Catrin was surprised to hear Harri speak like this. She remembered him as being far more down to earth.
‘But you said you were thinking of buying property here, at Rhossili. So, could you bear to leave Collioure?’
‘I wasn’t planning to come back here. I’d have someone else running things. No, I was thinking of it as an investment.’
The waiter brought the first dishes of scallops, then oysters. It was all wonderfully fresh. Catrin felt like she was drowning in beautiful tastes and smells.
‘This is incredible food,’ she said.
‘It is very good. The food around here has improved so much in the last couple of years. It’s part of the reason I would like to invest in property here.’
‘You mean like our house?’
‘I think so. Yes. It’s got so much potential here.’
‘You didn’t speak to Dad yesterday at the memorial?’
‘No. He seemed a bit preoccupied. I can see why, now. Anyway, what have you been up to the past eighteen years?’
‘I told you. Bringing up the girls really.’