Setting off towards the West Shore Curly trailing in his wake he considered his options but the reality was there were no options left. He’d have to go home and pick up the mantle of his job but his heart wasn’t in it. Even the sight of Curly still licking the remains of a slab of cod off his whiskers only drew the glimmer of a smile. There was no joy left in either the big things or indeed the little ones. He’d have to learn to start living again, the only problem being he had no idea where to start. Walking past the Victorian red bricked buildings and across to the white sands he felt a sudden urge to revisit Betws-y-Coed. It was the wrong time of the year and in all probability he’d get snowed in again but with his mother in Canada visiting his sister there’d be no one to nag him about the stupidity of his actions. He could finally decide what to do with the old place, his eyes lighting on Curly racing around chasing seagulls across the sand. Dragging off his Aran he grabbed the beast under his damp underbelly and started drying the wriggling woolly blanket with the sleeve of his jumper before hauling him back to the car. He still hadn’t found out where she’d hidden Uncle Ivan’s whiskey and now was as good an opportunity as any to look for it.
Half an hour later he was pulling into the driveway shouting a good morning to the wolf, which he’d remembered since a child. Then it had seemed the scariest thing imaginable with its bared teeth and clawed feet: it wasn’t half as scary as having to face a future without her by his side. Flinging his bag in the hall he made his way to the kitchen to poke around in the cupboards only to find a few tins of baked beans and a stale jar of coffee, the granules glued to the bottom in a dark brown sticky mess.
Flicking on the central heating he tried to block out the image of them curled up on the sofa on that last night. If he’d known then what he knew now he’d never have let her go back to Dublin on her own; he’d have returned with her and faced the consequences by her side. He’d never been as happy as that night, he’d never be as happy again.
At least Curly was happy to be back, as he watched him take a couple of sniffs at the rug, no doubt still holding a lingering smell of whiskey within their tufts before heading off to his basket and settling down for a doggy snooze.
Derry, with a final look at the still animal shrugged on his coat again and, picking up his keys and a couple of carrier bags headed for the supermarket, pulling the door closed with a quiet click so as not to disturb him.
She was there, standing where he’d least expected to find her on a rock in the middle of the river with water streaming all around her. She was in the same jeans, jeans he remembered. Jeans which moulded themselves to her bottom like a second skin, but he shouldn’t be thinking of her bottom he reminded himself – not if he wanted to get to The Spar before teatime! Her hair was a dark cap framing her face as he wondered briefly where her hat was. He studied her face, something he hadn’t been able to do without fear of being caught like some love sick schoolboy. She was laughing at something the boy standing on the next rock had said or done, but he wasn’t going to dwell on who she was with his eyes lingering on her pale heart shaped face and the soft redness of her lips. She was within his reach, all he had to do was step around the side of the bridge to enclose her within his arms. She’d never felt further away.
He looked properly at the boy then, for he couldn’t very well call him a man. Iris had said something about her having a boyfriend, but he hadn’t taken any notice until now – and now he felt all of his 39 years and more. He wondered where he’d picked her up, because he couldn’t for the life of him believe Mabel had gone looking for a man off her own bat, and then he stopped wondering. She was happy and she deserved to be. He didn’t let his mind dwell too much on the coincidence of her being in Betws. No one knew better than him that coincidences happened. His whole life was a set of random coincidences all culminating in him standing in the middle of Betws watching his future trickle away between his fingers.
He turned to go, his feet wanting to stay. He suddenly felt like a voyeur spying on something he wasn’t meant to see. He wasn’t meant to be here. He was meant to be in Dublin delivering a lecture on cardiomyopathy. He’d go back to Curly, load him in the car and head off. He’d leave Betws-y-Coed because he couldn’t stay.
Chapter Thirty Five
It felt strange, surreal even pulling up into the station – even the station master looked the same. Jumping down the last step she hurried along the platform, the sound of slamming carriage doors receding into the distance as she presented her ticket and headed out into the square. The only thing different was the weather. Then it had been dark of course; dark and lashing with rain. Now the sun shone its weak warmth down on her head and, for the first time in a very long while she felt glad to be alive. Looking around at the heaving shops with Welsh baskets and sheepskin rugs hanging outside she felt free. There was no Henry to hound her and no Iris to worry about. Even her dad wasn’t her problem anymore and, as for Annie Friend. Her face pulled into a wide grin as she remembered the message she’d had from her earlier. She’d decided to elope to Gretna Green of all places with Calvin and had sent her a photo of her decked out in head to toe green with probably the sexiest looking man Mabel had ever laid eyes on.
Swapping her bag between hands the rough fabric digging into her palm she felt a tap on her shoulder and her heart leapt in her throat. The only person who knew about Betws, the only person who might have followed her would be Derry but surely he…
‘Ditched the old man and the twins I see, or was that just an excuse to er ditch me.’
She glanced up, her eyes bumping into those of the man who’d accosted her in Holyhead and blushed.
‘Not that I blame you really,’ he continued. ‘I’d probably have done the same in your shoes.’ Dropping his rucksack by his feet he held out his hand with a grin. ‘I’m Gary Pike at your service, mam. Erstwhile med student at Trinity taking a few days off, but don’t tell anyone.’ His finger placed to his lips in a mock shush.
She let out a giggle as she held out her hand. ‘Mabel Frederick, minus the husband and twins although…’ her eyes flickering to her hand. ‘Still very much married – nice to meet you.’
Hoisting up his rucksack on his broad shoulders with no effort he held out his hand and took her bag off her too.
‘Hey, you can’t take…’
‘I’m also a gentleman Mabel – I can call you Mabel?’ He added with a smile. ‘I’m also as strong as a proverbial ox. So where are you staying? I’ll drop this off for you on my way to my guesthouse.’
‘Well…’ she eyed him warily. ‘I haven’t booked anywhere.’
‘Oh I’m sure there’ll be room, it’s not exactly the height of the tourist season is it, not that you’d know.’ His eyes flickering to the bus load of tourists just pulling into the coach park opposite. ‘Look for signs for Bryn Afon, it’s apparently near some pair of pants bridge or something.’
‘You don’t mean Pont y Pair Bridge do you?’ Her voice choked with laughter.
‘That’s the one. So you’ve been here before then?’ His head tilted in her direction. ‘I’m planning on checking out Swallow Falls tomorrow. ‘Do you hike?’
‘Do I look as if I hike?’ She pointed down at her trainers and jeans.
‘No, but then again you had me fooled with the twin thing. Run away from the old man for a few days?’
She stopped abruptly causing him to stop too. ‘What makes you say that? A woman can go away without her husband in tow…’
‘Of course she can. Look, I’m on my own; you’re on your own. I promise I’m not a stalker or anything.’ He turned away slightly. ‘I’ve just split up with my girlfriend and my tutor told me to get away for a few days to get my head together. So if you want company – fine, great and, if you want to be alone also fine.’ He held out his hand, his brown eyes boring into hers. ‘Deal?’
‘Deal!’
Staring out of her bedroom window was a bitter sweet experience for the view was of their bridge, for that’s w
hat it would always be to her. Leaning on the freshly painted windowsill she could almost reach out and feel the spray from the tumbling waters just below; she could certainly feel her heart as it tumbled inside her chest. It was nearly five years to the day since her wedding; her second wedding that is – she certainly didn’t mark her first. Five wasted years filled full of the worst type of crap imaginable only to culminate in more crap when she’d finally met him again. Resting her chin in her arms she lifted her eyes briefly to stare at his rooftop, just visible between the trees. She might even walk past later just to see if it was still the same or if he’d gone ahead and sold it, but she probably wouldn’t – that would be one step too far in this wandering down memory lane escapade. She’d come here to say goodbye; to finally say goodbye to any lingering hope of a reunion and tomorrow – tomorrow she’d make her way back to Llandudno and start searching for a cheap bedsit and that cat she’d promised herself.
She only pulled away from her thoughts by the firm knock on her door.
‘This is a bit of alright isn’t it although you do have the better view.’ He added, making his way to join her at the window, ‘It would have been cheaper for us to share you know, especially as she thought us married…’
‘Down boy,’ her smile turning into a giggle. ‘How old are you anyway, twenty two?’
‘Twenty three actually…’
‘Far too young for an old gal like me then.’
‘You’re never too old.’ He left her side to perch on the end of the bed next to her open bag. ‘Are you sure you’re only here for one night, there’s a really good hiking shop up the road where I could get you some…’
‘You’re a nice boy but hiking really isn’t my thing. I would like to walk down to the bridge though and perhaps along the river bank for a bit – it was snowing last time so I didn’t get to do much.’ She ruffled his hair. ‘I’ll even buy you an oggie for lunch.’
She dropped her oggie. Looking back in years to come she’d always remember the way it tumbled out of her hand to land in a broken heap before submerging into the swirling eddies at her feet. But first she’d remember him.
They’d made their way to The Spar where Mable had treated him to a packed lunch before tracing their way along the path by the river. She didn’t speak much, not because she had nothing to say more because she couldn’t get a word in edgeways. By the time he’d persuaded her to go rock hopping across the river she’d heard all about his love life and his recent split with his girlfriend. She really wasn’t in the mood for other people’s problems but it seemed to her that a quick phone call would sort out the misunderstanding, it certainly couldn’t make things worse as she threw a glance at his pale anxious face. There was no time like the present she told him on a laugh and when he’d made the call she’d buy him an ice-cream. Squinting up at the bridge she found herself staring right into Derry’s face and lost her oggie first. She watched it disappearing into the swirling torrent before losing her balance and, feet akimbo slid none too gracefully into the freezing cold water.
Everything became a blur after that. She’d scarcely managed to choke down a mouthful of water when, coughing and spluttering she found herself being dragged to safety by what felt like an army of hands but in fact turned out to be four.
Standing hunched forward gasping for breath she had time to see Gary also bent forward splitting his sides with laughter tears streaming down his face.
‘I’m glad you find it funny.’ Her words mumbled through chattering teeth. ‘Here I am freezing to death and you’re…’
‘I’m sorry Mabel. One minute you’re talking about whether I’m getting a flake or not and the next… If you’d have warned me I’d have filmed it for Candid Camera.’ He turned to Derry. ‘Thanks mate, not sure how I’d have managed without you.’ His voice stuttered to a halt before continuing. ‘Hey, don’t I know you from somewhere?’
‘Er, no. I don’t think so. I’ll leave you to your ice creams so,’ but Gary ignored him a deep frown furrowing his brow.
‘Yes I do – You’re Professor Yeats, I heard you speak a few weeks ago on Cor Pulmanale at Trinity: bloody amazing.’ He paused, his eyes swivelling between them. ‘So this is a bit of a coincidence, unless it isn’t that is? Three Irish strangers standing under the same bridge in Wales - who’d have thought it.’
‘Mabel’s not a stranger; she’s my wife.’ He said softly, turning on his heel and stalking back up the incline towards his house.
Gary’s jaw was still open when he finally got around to speaking.
‘Go after him.’
‘I can’t. I’m going back to the guesthouse and then.’ She threw him a brief look. ‘And then I’m heading out.’
‘No you’re not.’ He took off his jacket and placed it on her shoulders his fingers pressing into her skin.
‘Pardon?’
‘Professor Yeats is a brilliant man, probably the best lecturer I’ve ever had – and he’s here presumably looking for you.’ He shook his head from side to side. ‘Mabel I can’t make you do anything you don’t want to but you need to take a leaf out of your own book. I’m going to pick up my pride and phone Sally, and you should do the same.’
‘But I don’t know Sally.’ She pulled her lips into a smile, or at least what passed for one.
‘You know what I mean. Oh God, he probably thinks that you and me, that we …’ his eyes widening in horror.
‘I’m sure he does.’
‘Mabel.’ He grabbed her hand.’ If only for my sake then – go and see him to at least tell him that I never laid a …’
‘It’s alright Gary.’ She slapped him on the back. ‘I’ll make sure he understands that I turned you down when you invited me to share your bed.’
She didn’t bother to go back to Bryn Afon to get changed first, there was little point. She’d tell him Gary was only a friend - it was the least she could do and then only then she’d head back for a shower and a change of clothes. Making for the house she steeled herself for what was to come. The last time they’d been alone together he’d called her a coward and a liar – two words that stood between them for, of course they were true. She shouldn’t have lied to her dad – end of!
The front door was open and Derry was in the process of loading his bag into the boot. The only indication she had that he’d seen her was a brief pause before slamming it closed.
‘Derry, I need to speak to you.’
‘You should have thought of that earlier then shouldn’t you before taking a dip with young lover boy.’
‘He’s not my lover.’ She said quietly but the only response was a snort. Heaving a deep breath she carried on. ‘I met him when I arrived and, yes he did try and pick me up but I wasn’t interested…’
‘Yeah, right.’
‘If all you’re going to do is criticise… Gary is a nice lad, little more than a boy really. He’s just split up with his girlfriend…’ She paused, remembering his words by the bridge. ‘You called me your wife?’
‘Yes well - I was angry.’
But she carried on as if he hadn’t spoken. ‘I still think of you like that you know.’ She twisted the underside of her ring with the top of her thumb. ‘We never had a chance did we, what with Henry and my dad – but I’ve never forgotten.’ Head bowed she turned away.
He was suddenly there beside her the weight of his arms heavy around her shoulders. ‘I’ve never forgotten either. How could I?’ He said, moving his hands to cup her face only to drop them again at the feel of her skin under his fingertips. ‘Bloody hell Mabel, you’re freezing.’ Scooping her up he carried her inside and, heading for the stairs dropped her by the side of his bed in a serious case of déjà vu.
‘There won’t be enough water yet for a bath but I’ll get you some clothes and rustle up a hot drink.’
She twisted her head to look at him. ‘I’ll be fine,’ her voice suddenly flat. Turning away she started to take off her two coats and then her jumper.
‘Er, rig
ht. ‘His eyes pinned to her t-shirt as she started to lift it over her head. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’ His gaze now focusing on the large pile of damp clothes on the floor and the jeans that had just landed on top.
‘Derry don’t go.’ But he’d already pulled the door closed on her.
Chapter Thirty Six
She was huddled under the covers, the duvet bunched up around her bare shoulders by the time he’d clattered up the stairs a mug in one hand and a carrier bag with the same old black dressing gown draped on top in the other.
Placing the tea on the bedside cabinet he set the bag beside her before leaning against the doorframe his eyes carefully focused somewhere near her left ear.
‘What’s in the…?’
‘They’re yours, you might as well take them with you when you leave – I’ll drive you back as soon as I’ve dried your things.’ He smiled then scooping up the clothes in his arms. ‘I’ve made a few changes as you can see.’ His eyes flickering to the thick feather duvet. ‘There’s even a dishwasher.’
‘Derry.’
But he ignored her. ‘You might as well rest; I’ll pop up with them when they’re dry.’
She stared at the closed door and then the bag her vision suddenly blurred. It was obvious now there was no going back. Yes, what they’d had was special but not anymore.
Dragging the bag towards her she tipped it out on the bed expecting to find an odd assortment of junk she’d left behind her all those years ago. Instead four neatly wrapped packages with bright robin Christmas paper tumbled out onto the pristine white cover. Four gifts presumably to mark the four Christmas’s they’d been apart. Her hands rested briefly on the paper her finger tracing the robin’s head as she chose a package at random, tears trickling down her cheeks at the sight of a little miniature silver pendant cast in Curly’s image. With trembling fingers she lifted the necklace and fastened it in place. The next package was a painting but not just any old painting – a painting of Pont y Pair Bridge with the river tumbling in the background. She set it carefully on the pillow beside her as she reached for her tea, her mind trying to work out any hidden meanings behind the gifts. Did it mean he’d loved her? Did he still love her, or was he just clearing away the deadwood before starting again? He certainly hadn’t acted very lover-like just now.
Unhappy Ever After Girl (Irish Girl, Hospital Romance 3) Page 20