Hidden Chapters

by Mary Grand

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Thursday 2nd August 2012

  Elizabeth woke very early, and decided to go for a run. It was good to be in routine, seeing the familiar faces: smart, fashionable running gear, the latest smart watches. Each jogger nodded in recognition, but no smiles: running was serious business. She was surprised at how noisy it seemed: so much traffic, even at this time, and the air heavy with diesel and exhaust fumes. Still, it was familiar and safe. Elizabeth went back to her home for coffee and realised that she missed Poppy, who would normally come in now after her night’s hunting. Cats were so much more straightforward than people. She and Poppy belonged here.

  While she was checking her emails, she received a text from Richard. ‘How are you?’

  Elizabeth replied, ‘Still in Gower.’

  ‘When are you coming back?’

  ‘Maybe Sunday.’

  Elizabeth glanced at her watch, and tutted. It was nearly ten o’clock. Bethan had still not appeared. Elizabeth liked to get out early. She went to the stairs, and called Bethan quietly, but there was no reply. Then she realised Bethan had probably taken off her hearing aids. To go into Bethan’s room would be too pushy, so she had to just wait.

  She was trying to occupy her time scrolling through emails when Bethan finally came downstairs.

  ‘Good morning,’ Bethan said politely, shyly.

  ‘You slept late.’

  ‘Not really. I was speaking to friends. They all think it’s so cool I’m up here. I sent them pictures of my room: they’re dead jealous.’

  Elizabeth was annoyed that Bethan had been upstairs texting all this time and also rather shocked at pictures of her home flying around Bethan’s family and friends. She tried to hide her irritation. ‘If you get on and have your breakfast, we could go.’

  ‘OK. I’ll just have toast, cereal and orange juice,’ said Bethan. Elizabeth watched her sit down and start texting again, and realised Bethan was expecting her to assemble her breakfast.

  ‘You can help yourself,’ she said. Bethan looked up.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I said, you can help yourself.’

  ‘Oh, right.’

  Bethan got up and walked aimlessly around the kitchen area. Elizabeth gritted her teeth, but resolved that she was not going to help. Eventually, Bethan found the bread bin and asked, ‘Don’t you have any white bread?’

  ‘No, I have granary.’

  ‘Oh, Yuck. I hate all those bits. What cereals do you have?’

  ‘They’re in that cupboard. There’s some granola.’

  ‘What?’

  Elizabeth heaved herself off the chair, opened the cupboard, and handed Bethan the box of granola.

  ‘Actually, Mum usually gets in those little packets so I can have something different each day.’

  ‘They’re all full of sugar. Try the granola: it’s good for you.’

  Bethan sighed and poured the cereal into the bowl, looking at it as if it was mouse droppings. Elizabeth took the orange juice from the fridge, and handed her the carton. Elizabeth saw Bethan pull a face but watched her pour some into a glass. She guessed that at home everything was laid on exactly to Bethan’s taste. She could imagine Catrin scouring the supermarket for particular cereals and juice. Well, she had no time for that.

  ‘When you’re ready we should go,’ she repeated.

  ‘Great,’ Bethan said, then, ‘Last night, you didn’t want to tell me about Aled. I was thinking about it in bed. I wish you would tell me. Nobody tells me anything. Did Aled really want to marry you?’

  Elizabeth saw the eager, trusting expression. She had to tell the truth. ‘I’m sorry. Aled didn’t want to get married.’

  ‘Mum said he wanted to. He’d have been a great Dad.’

  ‘Your Mum believes what your grandfather has been telling her. He desperately wants to believe Aled was some kind of saint, but he wasn’t. No-one is. I’m afraid when I told Aled I was pregnant he was very upset. He said he didn’t want to get married.’

  ‘Would he have wanted anything to do with me?’

  Elizabeth cringed. ‘It was complicated. I don’t think he could take it in.’

  ‘So, is that when he ran off?’

  ‘It was a very difficult situation.’

  ‘You were on the ground when Mum found you. She said you fell. Why did he leave you?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘You sound like Mum now. Why won’t anyone talk to me properly?’

  ‘This was all a long time ago. If Aled and I had married, it would probably have been a disaster. Look, there are things that your mother should tell you. Ask her about Aled.’

  ‘I’m confused. Surely Aled would have wanted to do the right thing by you?’

  Elizabeth was amazed that a modern young girl should express such an old-fashioned sentiment. She felt terrible, as if she had smashed some kind of fairy tale that Bethan had been holding on to.

  ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘It’s OK. It’s not your fault.’

  Elizabeth stood up. ‘Look, let’s go out, go shopping? A bit of retail therapy. Then we have the concert.’

  Bethan still looked upset.

  ‘Come on. Let’s not let this spoil our day. It was all a long time ago.’

  Bethan seemed to weaken.

  ‘Well, OK.’

  ‘We can have a really good day. I want to spoil you rotten.’

  Bethan grinned. ‘I can cope with that.’

  Catrin had woken early, having slept badly on the sofa, and with a terrible headache. After seeing her reflection the night before she had run into the kitchen and been violently sick. She had been pleased that she had wanted to get the vile stuff out of her body. She had washed up the glass and poured the rest of the bottle down the sink. She had washed the saucer she had used as an ashtray, taken the stub and the rest of the packet, put them first in a carrier bag, which she tied up, and this she had put in the bin. She had drunk plenty of water, and watched television mindlessly until she had turned it off, and fallen asleep on the sofa.

  Now, she opened the windows and the back door to air the house. She made coffee, and forced herself to eat cereal and toast. She showered, changed, and checked her phone: no message from Gareth. She wondered if he had gone to the surgery. He could have let himself in. After all, he had the code to the alarms. He was the person who was called if there was a suspected break-in. Of course, he could be with Carol. Was it really possible her marriage was ending? Catrin looked around her home. If she and Gareth split up she guessed they would sell this. She realised that wouldn’t really bother her. She would have to find a flat, or a smaller house, she supposed. It all seemed surreal; divorce was something that happened to other people, not her. But then, didn’t lots of people think that? She was surprised that she wasn’t sobbing into the cushion, but she was too tired and numb to feel anything.

  She looked at the clock on the mantelpiece. It was only half past four in the morning but it was getting light. She looked around, and knew then that she had to get out of this house. She needed to get back for Bethan, but she also, strangely, wanted to be on Gower, to feel the air, smell the sea, and walk on a long stretch of clean, unspoilt sand.

  Catrin went round shutting up the house, then outside to the car. The roads were very quiet; the sky was lightening. In her mirror, she observed a staggeringly beautiful sunrise. She loved the way nature could do its thing, be special and beautiful anywhere. It was like seeing a daisy pushing its way through concrete paving, or urban foxes playing on a rubbish tip. When she reached the downs it was light, but there was a kind of golden hue to it which lit up the heather. She stopped her car and walked over to a large flat rock. Feeling rather like Tess of the d’Urbervilles, she lay down on the stone. But she was in no fear of harm, not here. Here she felt at peace: it was a place she never wanted to leave.

  Catrin actually slept on the stone for an hour or so, and woke to the sense that the day had started for the world. She walk
ed stiffly to her car and drove down the road. But she didn’t turn left into the village. She drove straight down to the Rhossili car park.

  She walked towards the headland. It was very quiet: just her and the sheep, the seagulls above. The long beach lay to her right. Ahead, Worm’s Head stretched out to sea. After a few minutes, she reached the coastguard hut. She glanced at the board in front of her. She read that the causeway was open for the next few hours. She could go: she could walk across to Worm’s Head. She started to walk down the steep path towards the causeway. Her heart was beating fast and loud. Suddenly, the sun went behind a cloud, and she felt cold. The clouds seemed to darken, and she heard the waves crashing against the rock. ‘Aled!’ she screamed, but there was no answer. She screamed again, but again her voice was carried away on the wind. She started to cry. She stared down at the causeway. She couldn’t do it: she couldn’t cross, and she would never be able to do it. She sat down and sobbed.

  ‘Catrin, is that you?’

  Catrin turned her head, to see Harri. She quickly wiped her face.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ He sat down next to her.

  ‘I was thinking of going, over there, to Worm’s Head, but I can’t. I can’t do anything.’ She started to cry again.

  ‘Hey, why on earth do you want to go over there anyway? It’s an awful climb?’

  ‘But it’s where Aled died. I wanted to prove to myself I could do it. I wanted to prove I could face this.’

  ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘I went to Cardiff, had a row with Gareth, and the girls, well, they’re both leaving me. Life just seems hopeless.’

  ‘Oh, Catrin. That’s terrible.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I’m very tired.’

  ‘Yes, I can see that. You look like you could do with a holiday.’

  Catrin looked up, and laughed faintly. ‘We’re here in a place people come for holidays, and you say that.’

  ‘But you’re not relaxing, eating ice creams, are you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘What happened with Gareth?’

  Catrin looked away. It seemed disloyal to talk about it.

  ‘The girls, then?’

  She told him about Bethan and Elizabeth, and about Lowri’s plans.

  ‘They’re growing up. It doesn’t mean they don’t love you, that they won’t come back.’

  Catrin looked up. She appreciated the gentle way Harri was talking to her. He was also looking at her in a way that was more than a friend, a way that took her back to when they sat together on the beach making plans in their teens. It was as if he read her mind.

  ‘Just because their lives are taking off doesn’t mean yours has to end.’

  ‘But Gareth doesn’t want to travel.’

  ‘I know, but surely he wouldn’t mind you, maybe, having a break?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I’ve been thinking, since we were talking the other evening. In Collioure, I have a friend who runs long term retreats: three, six months: you choose. You could come out, in September maybe, get back in touch with it all.’

  Catrin laughed. ‘Harri, that is ridiculous. I can’t just leave my family.’

  ‘And why not? The girls will be away, and from what I can see Gareth won’t even notice. Come over with me. I have property. You could live in one of the flats, be completely independent.’

  ‘I can’t afford to do anything like that.’

  ‘But I can. You wouldn’t need to pay a thing.’

  ‘I can’t be a kept woman.’

  ‘If I talk to my friend he could employ you in the studio. Honestly, he’s very busy with students. He’s always moaning that he needs help.’

  Catrin suddenly saw an image of herself, like the trailer for a Hollywood blockbuster, painting in the studio, drinking rosé in the evening sunshine by the harbour. In the next shot, she was going to the bakery in the early morning. She could smell the fresh baguettes. She would tear off a piece, give it to Safi. Her daydreaming abruptly stopped.

  ‘What about Safi? He at least might miss me, and he’s only just met me.’

  ‘You know, you could bring him. Seriously, you should think about it. Me and Francine, we’re finished. And, you know, I never got over you–’

  Catrin looked away. All that talk by David, about owning your past. Well, she’d tried it with Gareth and it had been a disaster. David said you can’t run away from your past. What if he was wrong? What if it was time for her to write her own future story, a story far away from here?

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  Harri and Catrin started to walk back along the headland. Catrin hadn’t answered Harri, but they walked quietly, peacefully together. She left him at the hotel, where he went in for coffee.

  ‘Don’t forget, now,’ he said.

  ‘I won’t,’ she replied, ‘and thank you for listening.’

  As she walked down into the village, Catrin saw David and Safi. She saw Safi pull on the leash to come to her. She knelt down and he licked her face.

  ‘Ah, thank you, David. Thank you for having him.’

  ‘That’s fine; we’ve just been on the downs. Anwen gave him sausages for breakfast.’

  ‘Honestly. I’m amazed he’s so pleased to see me.’

  ‘How are things then?’

  ‘I don’t know, David. I think I need to go back and shower, have a rest. I’m exhausted.’

  ‘But how is Gareth?’

  ‘He’s alright. It was a misunderstanding.’

  ‘And you talked?’

  ‘We did, but I’m not sure it achieved much. Look, I’m shattered. I think I’d better get on home.’

  ‘Of course. Well, I’d better give Safi back before Anwen kidnaps him.’

  As Catrin let herself into The Dragon House, she realised that, having avoided this place for eighteen years, she felt more at home here than in her own house in Cardiff. Safi followed her upstairs. There, she opened the window in her room, and let in the fresh breeze. It was cooler today, but not cold.

  She lay down on her bed and rested. Pictures of Collioure flitted in and out her mind, but Worm’s Head, Aled, and Elizabeth were there as well. Catrin sat up and glanced over at her dressing table. She saw the little box of keys she had brought upstairs, the one containing the key to her mother’s wardrobe. Maybe there was a key for that drawer, the locked one? She picked up the box but, as she headed to her mother’s room, she met Lowri in the hallway. She looked anxious. ‘You’re back. How’s Dad?’

  ‘It was nothing. False alarm,’ Catrin said, trying to look relaxed.

  ‘You look shattered.’

  ‘It was a lot of driving.’

  Lowri looked sceptical: Cardiff was not that far away. ‘What really happened?’

  In an attempt to distract Lowri, Catrin said, ‘I’m going to see if I can open a drawer in my mother’s room.’

  Really? A mystery, you think?’

  ‘Maybe.’ Suddenly, it occurred to Catrin what it could be.

  ‘Actually, you know, I won’t bother.’

  ‘Oh, come on, Mum. Let’s have a look.’

  Lowri walked on ahead of Catrin, and pushed open the door.

  ‘What’re all these paintings on the floor?’ she asked.

  Catrin caught her up, Safi close by her side.

  ‘This is the portfolio of work I prepared for my applications for Art College. I thought the school had lost them. I never went for the interviews.’

  ‘But your work was here? How come?’

  ‘It was Grandad. He told me he hid it here. He was worried about me leaving my mother. She was very unhappy at the time.’

  ‘But it was his job to look after her.’

  ‘Oh, he went away a lot. I had always been the one who knew how to handle her.’

  ‘Hang on; what was the matter with her?’

  ‘She had problems.’ Catrin sighed. ‘Look, let’s not talk about it now.’

  ‘But–’

  ‘I promise. I’ll tell you about
it later but, really, love I’m done in.’

  ‘OK, then,’ Lowri said reluctantly. She looked down at the paintings. ‘But these are good. I’m really shocked, Mum, that Grandad did this.’

  Catrin was about to dismiss what Lowri said, but then she looked down at the paintings. They were a mixture of landscape and portraits. It was the landscapes that she thought were the best. In fact, Catrin found it hard to believe that she had painted them. It was a part of her she had forgotten was there. ‘You’re right. It wasn’t fair. I would have loved to have gone to Art College. I should have been able to go.’ Catrin stopped. It felt good actually to say the words, plain and simple. She carefully picked the paintings up and put them on to the bed. Then she picked up the keys and, without saying anything to Lowri, she tried the locked drawer with the keys. Eventually, one fitted. Catrin quickly looked inside, relieved to find no bottles. She opened it properly. Inside, she saw what appeared to be hand written manuscripts.’

  ‘What on earth are these?’ She said, taking them out. Lowri sat next to her. Catrin looked at Lowri.

  ‘I don’t believe it. They are stories, children’s stories.’

  ‘Really? Written by your Mum, my Grandma Isabel?’

  Catrin flicked thought them. ‘Yes, I remember now. When I was very little, she used to make up stories about a dragon. She would tell them to me at bed time. I’d forgotten. And, of course, my Nana Beth had told her all about the history of this place. She used them as the basis for these, I think.’

  Lowri took one of the stories out and started to read out loud.

  ‘‘I can see the dragon,’ shouted Catrin. They had arrived at their holiday. To Mummy and Daddy the dragon was just a funny shaped island, but to Aled and Catrin it was the home of a real dragon. The dragon was magical. He would take them back in time for all kinds of exciting fun adventures. Daddy was singing, ‘I do love to beside the seaside,’ and Mummy was laughing. Catrin and Aled smiled at each other in excitement. They wondered what the holiday held in store. Would it be catching smugglers? Or maybe searching among the wreckage of a ship blown on to the beach one stormy night, finding hoards of jewels and diamonds? Of course, the holiday wouldn’t all be dragon adventures. It would also be a time to make enormous sandcastles with Mummy and Daddy, eat candyfloss, and spend evenings in front of a real fire, while Daddy told them stories and Mummy cuddled them on the sofa. Whatever happened it would be the most magical, wonderful times of their lives.’