‘Well, it was Gareth’s turn to choose.’
‘Some turquoise, still in the same palette, would have lifted it, don’t you think? Needs a bit of contrast, if you don’t mind my saying.’
‘Tell it to Gareth. There speaks a designer. Your mother told me you worked in the fashion industry. You always did have an eye for clothes and colour.’ She paused while she made the coffee and then sat down opposite me. ‘You know I’ve missed you, Anya. I used to look forward to your coming. What’s kept you away?’
‘This and that.’
‘Gareth told me you’d fallen out with him but he wouldn’t say any more, and your mother hasn’t been here for five years.’ She sighed. ‘Sadly those summers have passed. I used to enjoy them.’
‘She has a boyfriend now and he keeps her busy. Another teacher, she met him at school. I see her now and again.’
‘I always thought it a shame you two didn’t get on.’
‘It happens. We get on better now. Now she has someone, she keeps off my case.’
‘But how are you? I’ve often wondered. But I gathered that you and Gareth weren’t speaking.’ Her voice trailed away, she was watching me, waiting for a response but I was silent. ‘You know, he was upset when you two fell out.’
‘Was he? I’m surprised. I thought he didn’t care. Anyway…stuff happens, so I thought it best not to.’
‘My curiosity is roused. What on earth happened? You know, he always saw you as the daughter we never had, but after that, whatever it was, he felt as if he’d lost you. Did you know that?’
She’d caught me totally caught off guard. I stared at her, before shifting my gaze away. I stood up, took my coffee and walked towards the window and looked out on to the orchard. I could feel my eyes filling with tears. I’d been so caught up with myself, I’d misjudged him. What he’d said in that hotel room about protecting me must have been true. He was a good man but I hadn’t recognised it. I turned round and for a moment Philomena and I looked at each other. She was waiting for me to tell her, but I couldn’t. It still felt raw.
‘Where is Gareth?’
‘You haven’t heard?’
‘What about?’
‘He doesn’t live here anymore.’
‘No, I didn’t know.’ I stared at her, wondering how she felt about that.
‘Gareth moved out seven years ago, not long after you had stopped coming. After his book came out, he told me he was in love with someone else, someone called Chloe. It had been going on for years and she was married. I always wondered if you knew. You were an astute child. You may remember her, she was at the meeting, the day we went to Chepstow. I’d suspected something was up, after all I’m no fool, but I waited and I hoped it would blow over like the others. But this one lasted. When I married him, I knew what I was taking on. He’s a poet, he has to get his material from somewhere.’
So she had known about Chloe. Even so, I wasn’t about to tell her anything. It would be like rubbing salt into a wound. There was a long silence before she continued.
‘But it doesn’t stop there. Chloe was pregnant, not by her husband, but by Gareth, and he wanted to be with her and the baby. Her husband was very unpleasant, well he would be, wouldn’t he, and Gareth wanted to protect her. He moved out some time ago.’
I felt a rush of sympathy for Philomena. ‘I’m so sorry. It’s been tough for you. I had no idea. If my mother knew, she never told me.’
‘It has some advantages, Anya, living on one’s own. For one thing I can get on with my work and Gareth visits regularly, with or without the child, so I have the best of both worlds.’
‘So you’re still friends with him?’
‘Of course and Gareth was always a good lover.’
Had she misheard me? I stared at her with astonishment.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.’
Philomena laughed and for a moment she sounded just like before. It was a smoker’s laugh, husky, dark, with a hint of bitterness and of illicit love affairs. ‘It’s of no consequence. Life goes on as usual.’
‘Where’s the child?’
‘Ceri? She’s with her mother and Gareth. They live in the Black Mountains on a small holding. Chloe teaches Welsh but she’s also a weaver, of the non-traditional sort, modern designs using the colours and dyes of nature; berries, lichen, roots, that kind of thing. I like her work actually. It’s beautiful and quite subtle.’
‘You’re very generous, Philomena. But what of Ceri?’
‘Ceri is the apple of Gareth’s eye or as he prefers to put it, she is “the gift of love”.’
My mind went back to the time I hid in the forest and saw them about to make love. ‘How old is Ceri?’ I asked.
‘Eight. She’s a lovely child. Always singing and when she’s not singing, she’s humming.’
I smiled. ‘A love child.’
‘Yes, Gareth always wanted children and I didn’t, maybe that was it. Anya, you will stay, won’t you? I know Gareth would like to see you, if he knew you were here. Shall I ring and let him know?’
‘Go ahead. Actually, I’d like to see him too.’
‘And Ceri? Would you like to see her?’
I felt that familiar feeling of jealousy. The truth was I wanted Gareth to myself but I couldn’t and wouldn’t exclude his daughter. I was non-committal. I said, ‘It’s his choice, whatever’s convenient.’
‘I’ll ring him. But you must be tired. It’s a long journey. Would you like to go up to your room, the one you used to have? The bed’s all ready. Make yourself at home, like you used to.’
‘Is the bike still here, the one I used to ride to the estuary? I’d like to go there.’
She nodded and smiled, ‘Yes, it’s still here.’
I spontaneously crossed the room and hugged her. ‘If it’s alright with you, I’ll go for a walk first?’
‘Of course. Do whatever you want, I’ll see you later. I want to hear what you’re up to.’
‘You will. I’m glad I came, we can catch up later.’
I went back to the hall, picked up my bag and carried it up the stairs. The house was just the same; painted in bright colours, untidy, interesting, stuffed with quirky objects, the walls covered with strange images and photographs. The ostrich with the human face had been moved from the kitchen and now stood on a half-landing at the top of the stairs. It had the same notice, ‘This is not an ostrich’. I stood looking at it, wondered who’d made the Leda sculpture in the orchard. It wasn’t the type of thing Philomena would make.
The bedroom was the same as I remembered it; walls painted white, bare floorboards covered with a brown Kelim rug, and standing against one wall the same old pine chest of drawers. A patchwork bedspread made of old pieces of fabric covered the double-sized iron bed; it creaked as I sat down on it, but it was comfortable, I knew that.
I sat for a minute thinking about what Philomena had told me. It was sad she and Gareth had separated but she seemed philosophical about it. It wasn’t the same without him. I was curious about Ceri, what she looked like and whether he’d bring her. The house felt empty. The atmosphere had changed. I lay down and fell asleep straightaway and when I woke it was dark and too late to go for a walk.
I jumped up, put on the light, drew the curtains and unpacked my bag. Philomena must have come in while I was asleep because a purple glass vase filled with evergreens had been placed on top of the pine chest of drawers. It hadn’t been there before. She’d also put water out for me. Just as I was about to go downstairs I heard a car draw up on the gravel outside. I stood hesitantly at the top of the stairs waiting to see who it was. Whoever it was came straight in.
It was Gareth. I recognised his deep voice immediately and for a moment I felt panicky. It was eight years since I’d met him and whenever he’d contacted me, I hadn’t responded. But I felt mean after what Philomena h
ad told me. I owed him an apology. I decided to brazen it out and act as if I’d forgotten all about it.
Even so, I wanted to look attractive for him, even though I felt critical of myself thinking in this way. I’d brought a change of clothes so I took off my jeans and put on a simple black dress I’d packed. It wasn’t tight but straight and elegant with a scooped neckline. It was one of my few ‘bought as new’ dresses and I wore it with the artdeco necklace Maddy had given me, a silver bracelet, black tights and high heels. I studied myself in the mirror, blocking the endless self-criticism – the voice of my mother – and then descended the stairs to the kitchen.
Gareth and Philomena were sitting round the large kitchen table drinking wine and talking, when I walked into the room. I couldn’t have wished for a better entrance. They stopped talking. Gareth eyes widened. He got up, walked towards me, ‘Anya, you’ve… I don’t quite know what to say.’ He continued staring.
Philomena said, ‘Well I do. Anya, would you like a glass of wine?’
‘Please.’
‘Red or white? You look stunning by the way. Very elegant.’
‘Red, please, Philomena.’ I smiled. ‘I try.’
Gareth didn’t say anything. I wondered if I looked over the top and it flashed through my mind how I used to feel intimidated when I saw Chloe. I’d admired her style and it was strange she now lived in the mountains, but I had a role to play now, that of the urban sophisticate.
‘It’s good to see you, Gareth. I must apologise for my lack of communication. I’ve been really busy, with one thing and another.’ I didn’t stop for a response but ploughed straight on. ‘I hear you’re well established now as a poet. I’m pleased for you, really pleased. Philomena also tells me you have a daughter and live up in the mountains with Chloe. Of course, I’m sorry you two split up, but happy for you and Chloe.’ I paused before saying, ‘Tell me about Ceri. I do hope I’ll meet her sometime. If not this visit, another time.’ I looked directly into his eyes.
Philomena handed me a drink. I sat down opposite them both. He hadn’t said a word. I smiled encouragingly at him. He was sitting with his head resting on one hand studying me and the gesture reminded me of how he’d looked in that hotel room. It was the same. I felt a little apprehensive. I dropped my gaze.
‘You’ve changed, Anya. What’s happened to the child
I knew? There’s a hard edge to you.’ It wasn’t what I wanted to hear.
Philomena said, ‘Shut up, Gareth. That’s no way to talk to a guest.’
‘Anya and I used always to speak the truth to each other. It was something I liked about her. Her honesty.’ He paused.
‘Where’s that gone? Have you changed so much?’
He was looking at me so intensely, I felt uncomfortable. I put my drink down, crossed my arms and sighed. I decided to play it straight without giving too much away. ‘You’re right, Gareth. I’ve grown up. I have changed and maybe I am a little harder, but I’m still the same underneath. I still feel. I still care and I’m sorry I lost touch with you.’
I was beginning to feel upset and he must have picked up on that.
‘That’s alright, Anya, don’t think twice, it’s alright.’ He smiled.
‘I love that song. Bob Dylan, isn’t it?’
‘You know it?’
‘Of course. My mother used to play it. Do you have a photo of Ceri?’
He gave me a look. I said, ‘I mean it. I want to see a photo.’ He took out his wallet, pulled out a photo and handed it across to me. She was pretty with long dark hair, sitting on a field gate and smiling. She had the innocence of a child with none of Gareth’s intensity. She looked more like Chloe, but I made no reference to that. I was thinking of Philomena and how hard it was for her. ‘She looks a happy child, and she’s pretty. I’d like to meet her.’
‘Yes, I’m very proud of her.’
I gave the photo back and said, ‘And how is Chloe?’
‘Well. She’s happy. She loves her work and looking after
Ceri. What about you?’
‘I love my work too. I’m in the fashion industry, recycling clothes.’ They waited for me to say I was happy, but I couldn’t.
There was an awkward silence. Philomena stood up and pushed her chair back noisily. ‘I’ll make some food. Why don’t you two go in the lounge and catch up?’
Gareth said, ‘Much as I’d like that, I have to go back. I was passing by and hadn’t expected to see you, Anya. Chloe and Ceri will be waiting for me.’
‘You didn’t know I was here?’
‘No. Not until Philomena told me. I must go. We’ve got visitors. How long are you here?’
‘Till Monday.’
‘Not long then. I’ll tell you what. I’ll come tomorrow and maybe we can go to the estuary. You always loved the estuary. I’ll take you.’ He stood up.
‘Thanks, Gareth. I had planned to cycle there, assuming the weather’s okay. That would be my preference.’
‘Then when?’
He was looking down at me with those intense blue eyes. I felt uncomfortable again but I wanted to see him; talking to him in Philomena’s presence was difficult. ‘I could meet you there. How about that?’
‘That’s good. In the new car park at the edge of the woods. Philomena will tell you where it is. Twelve?’
I smiled, stood up and put my hand out to him. ‘Twelve it is.’ For a split second he looked puzzled and then he shook my hand. He held it for a second longer than was necessary, but maybe that was my imagination.
Philomena stood watching. She said, ‘Gareth’s right. You have changed, but whether you’re hard edged, I’m not sure. But I’ll say this, you’re certainly wary, if you don’t mind my saying.’
There was a long silence. Gareth didn’t respond to her comment and neither did I. Then he smiled and said, ‘I’m going. See you tomorrow.’
I said, ‘I look forward to that.’
It was late when I woke the next morning. I pulled back the curtains. It had rained through the night, the sky was heavy with dark clouds, the garden holding its breath for the next downpour. I decided to go down for breakfast before I got dressed. I could hear Philomena in the kitchen. She was listening to classical music but switched it off when I opened the door. She’d always welcomed me as a child and she hadn’t changed. She asked if I’d slept well and what I’d like for breakfast. She said Gareth had rung and as it was raining, he’d pick me up and drive me to the estuary. I thanked her, said that both of them were kind and sat down to drink my coffee.
I’d never been an early morning talker so I was happy to listen to her. It gave me a chance to wake up. She told me about the Leda sculpture and the artist who’d made it. A man, of course. I said I didn’t like it. She agreed it was disturbing and laughed as she said this. I don’t know why she thought it funny but I couldn’t be bothered to ask.
I was still eating my toast when Gareth arrived. He walked in as if he still lived there, made a coffee for himself, sat down at the table and asked if I was on for the estuary. I said I wanted more time to get ready so they continued chatting but what they said floated past; I was half-awake, in my own world.
I finished my breakfast, returned to my room and stared vacantly at my clothes. I didn’t know what to wear. I hadn’t really packed for the country, so I threw on a retro black wiggle skirt, boots, and a dull pink-and-beige Fair Isle knitted sweater bought from a North London boutique. It was new but vintage looking. At the last minute I grabbed my Anya bag-for reassurance.
An hour later I was sitting in Gareth’s car and we were driving towards the estuary and I was wondering if it would ever stop raining. On and on it went. ‘Do you know?’ I said, ‘When I used to come here, it never rained.’
‘Yes, like my childhood, the sun was always out.’ He flashed a smile at me.
We reached the new car park. Th
e rain had stopped, and I was thinking I wasn’t sure whether I wanted him with me walking through the woods, when he asked, ‘Would you prefer to be on your own?’
‘I don’t mind, Gareth, if you want to stay, that’s okay or if you want to go, that’s okay too.’ He came.
I picked out the path I took when I used to meet Ifan. Gareth followed behind until we reached what had been Ifan’s den. It was so overgrown it was impossible to see the entrance and I only recognised it because of the tree standing outside the entrance. It was still there, standing like a sentinel. I’d always liked that tree and I stood looking at it. It seemed magical but maybe that’s because it reminded me of childhood.
I said, ‘Do you remember me telling you about Ifan? The boy I’d been with when I nearly drowned on the river? The one you and the others thought I was making up?’ I didn’t wait for an answer. ‘Well, this was his den. It’s overgrown now but it wasn’t then. This is where we used to meet.’
I glanced at him but I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He smiled and said, ‘Well to be fair, I never knew if he was real or not. Tell me about him.’
I said, ‘When we get back to the car, I will, but I’d like to go to the river first. I want to see it.’
Neither of us spoke. We reached the river. It was strange, like a disconnect between then and now. I felt Ifan was there, not the Ifan I’d met in London but the Ifan of my childhood. The one who had made me laugh and had ideas and had listened to me. The one who’d loved me but that was before I’d lost him. I wondered if he’d got the Etta James song and whether he knew it came from me. It all seemed crazy now.
Then I thought of JF. I was still out to get him and I still had to organise hacking into his computer. I’d do it as soon as I got back. That cheered me up and I began humming ‘Every Breath You Take’. We stood looking at the river. The tide was coming in. It was in full flood and its force and power was the same as I remembered it the day Ifan and I tried to cross it on the pontoon.
My Name Is Echo Page 22