‘You wished me that last night.’
‘Did I? God, I was so out of it. Sorry for being such a pisshead and I apologise now for anything stupid I might have said or done.’
‘Don’t worry, there’s no need. You were really sweet and funny, actually.’
‘Was I? Well, thank God for that.’ Rhys’s tone exuded massive relief. ‘How did you get hold of my number, by the way?’
Vicki burst out laughing and Rhys wondered what was so hilarious.
‘You gave it to me, don’t you remember? Actually, you stuffed it in the pocket of my skirt. You couldn’t get your hand out and nearly pulled it down!’
‘You’re joking! Did I? I don’t remember a thing. I’m really sorry.’ Vicki was about to reply when Rhys interrupted her. ‘I’m glad I did.’
There was a tangible pause on the other end of the line before Vicki replied in a low voice. ‘I’m glad you did, too.’
A few seconds of silence followed but they were anything but awkward, the two of them experiencing a delectable tingling inside their bodies.
‘So you’re in Cardiff at the moment?’
‘Yeah, but if you’re around, I’d love to meet up. I’m back off to Godalming tomorrow and then uni straight after.’
‘You took the words right out of my mouth. I’d love to see you today.’ Rhys was also conscious that the cost of the call was racking up and money was tight in his family. ‘Let me think where?’
‘How about I come back up to Pont … ee … prid?’
‘Pont … ee … preethe, please!’
‘Oh, I am sorry. Pont … ee … preethe.’
‘That’s better.’
They both laughed before Vicki resumed. ‘I’ve got my car with me so I could be with you in half an hour. Shall I pick you up?’
‘No, don’t come to the house, we can meet in town.’ Vicki picked up the slight hint of embarrassment. ‘We can get a nice coffee and sandwich in the Royale. Oh, shit, I just remembered, it’s New Year’s Day, isn’t it? All the caffs will be closed. It’s going to have to be a pub then, though I’m going to be on the orange squash, don’t you worry.’ Rhys heard a chuckle on the other end of the line. ‘Tell you what, let’s meet in the White Hart. It’ll be easy for you to find. Coming into Ponty, just follow the station sign and you’ll see the pub opposite. You can’t miss it. In fact, you can park in the station car park. It’ll be alright today.’
‘Great. Shouldn’t be too difficult to find. See you, what, in half an hour?’
‘Make it forty-five minutes. I’ve just got up and, believe me, I need as much time as I can get to look half decent.’
‘Forty-five mins it is then. See you later.’
‘Can’t wait.’
‘Nor me.’
As they put the receivers down, they both lingered a few moments and smiled. In the kitchen, Rhys’s mother smiled too.
The White Hart was busier than Rhys was expecting and, as he sipped nervously at his shandy, he stretched his neck to keep an eye out for Vicki’s arrival. The pub’s customers were in high spirits, constantly passing in front of his eye line, and requiring him to make head movements both up and down and left and right. He had only been in the pub five minutes but his pint was already two-thirds empty. The background music, swirling smoke and smell of booze began to rival that of Don’s party, though, thankfully, the temperature was more agreeable. Christmas trimmings still hung forlornly above the bar and across the back wall and, to his irritation, a huge red and silver star was stuck to the glass of the front door, blocking his view of who was arriving.
‘Alright, Rhys? Happy New Year, butt.’
‘Yeah, same to you, Steve.’
‘Gonna watch Ponty on Saturday? Maesteg, innit, they’re playing?’
‘Yeah, I’ll be there. Should be a good match, and Bob’s fit again, I hear.’
‘That’s good news. Our lineout’s been rubbish without him. See you then.’
‘Yeah, Steve.’
As Steve walked away, the door opened and a rush of freezing air accompanied Vicki’s entrance. Her facial expression was inquisitive, like a new-born foal experiencing its surrounds for the very first time, as she sought out Rhys. She had deliberately arrived five minutes late so as not to enter the pub before him. She was still struggling to find him when she heard a voice calling out her name excitedly.
‘Vicki, Vicki, over here!’
Vicki looked towards the direction of the deep, bass voice that had made her tremble the first time she heard it the night before and saw Rhys waving his arm furiously. He was smiling broadly and Vicki went tingly on seeing him. He was so handsome, even more so than she remembered the previous night. She approached his table where Rhys stood up to greet her. They hugged each other and kissed quickly on the lips. It seemed as if they had known each other for years already. An audience of admiring and approving eyes looked Vicki’s way, more than one or two of them lecherously. She was, after all, the only female in the pub.
‘Here, take this seat. I’ve been keeping it for you. What would you like?’
‘I’m definitely off the alcohol. I might not have been as bad as you last night but I wasn’t feeling so clever myself this morning. And now with these bags they’ve brought out you blow into, I don’t want to be stopped for drunk-driving. Tell you what, I’ll have a bitter lemon, no ice, thanks.’
‘Give us a sec then.’ Rhys had taken a couple of paces when he turned back round to face Vicki. ‘By the way, you look absolutely lovely.’ And with that, he threaded his way through the drinkers to the bar.
Vicki sat down feeling as though she was the most beautiful woman in the world. She, in turn, could not take her eyes off Rhys as she looked him up and down. At over six feet tall, though the Cuban heels of his boots accounted for more than an inch of that, she thought he looked wonderful. His perfect, round bum was squeezed so tightly into his drainpipe jeans that she thought the denim would rip open at any moment. His hips and waist were narrow and lean in contrast to his chest and shoulders, which were so broad she thought he must be a builder or a disciple of Charles Atlas at the very least. He was not quite as broad as Mr Universe, the incomparable Arnold Schwarzenegger, but she didn’t think he was far off. His face, however, softened the muscularity with his brown, angelic, doe-like eyes and wavy black hair not dissimilar to those of Paul McCartney. Vicki doubted that even the newly-wed Linda Eastman would be able to tell any facial difference between her Beatle and Rhys.
Rhys returned to a beaming Vicki and placed the bitter lemon on the table. He sat down opposite her, another pint of shandy in hand. ‘I hope the pub’s alright? I’m sure it’s not as smart as the pubs you get in Gobbledygook …’
‘Godalming!’
‘ … but it’s nice and cosy.’
With bare, hard, wooden tables and chairs and a total lack of furnishings, Vicki thought the White Hart anything but cosy. She didn’t admit to this. She didn’t care.
‘I thought you were off the beer today?’
‘I thought so as well but the walk here livened me up a bit so I thought I’d try a shandy. Glad I did, though I’ll have an orange juice next time, I think. Might’ve been better if I’d stuck to the shandy last night by the sounds of it.’
‘You can say that again!’ Vicki exclaimed with raised eyebrows and a grin.
‘Sorry I didn’t see in the New Year with you.’
‘But you did! You really can’t remember a thing, can you?’
‘I’m ashamed to say the last thing I can remember is playing Buzz with the boys well before midnight.’
‘That’s right. I came looking for you and you were all upstanding toasting this, that and the other.’
‘Don’t remind me, I can still taste the whisky.’ Rhys screwed up his face and licked at his lips instinctively.
‘You all came into the living room then and someone put on the telly. When Big Ben struck twelve, you grabbed me and swung me around, planting kisses all over my face. In
fact, Karen’s got a massive bruise on her leg from where my heel caught her.’
‘Oh, no. Tell her sorry for me, will you?’
‘Oh, she’s fine. Don’t worry. She had more problems fighting off your friend, Ian. He wouldn’t let go of her. It didn’t help him that his breath stunk of sick!’
Rhys put his head in his hands and started to laugh and Vicki joined him.
‘I can’t wait to see him next. He’ll be squirming with embarrassment.’
‘It’ll be interesting when you see Don next as well,’ Vicki threw in, teasing him.
‘Why’s that?’ Rhys replied, his eyes wide with expectation.
‘Well, there was a bit of a commotion soon after midnight ’cos Jen couldn’t find Don anywhere but then saw him out the back having a snog with his ex, apparently. She went mad, calling him every name under the sun and flailing away at him with her fists before they went upstairs. You could still hear them arguing from there. A few minutes later, she stormed off, slamming the front door so hard it splintered the frame. Karen shot off after her but she was gone. She was in a right state.’
Rhys sat with his mouth open, cradling his shandy while Vicki recounted the sorry tale.
‘What an idiot! I knew he still had the hots for Megan but that’s really unsubtle. He’s gonna lose Jen if he’s not careful, and she’s a lovely girl.’
‘Going to? I think it’s gone beyond that!’
‘Oh, fuck, I hope not. What a way to start 1970.’ Rhys shook his head with dismay and concern, which Vicki returned with a rueful grin and the slightest of nods. ‘And where was I then when this bit of drama was taking place?’ Rhys continued with trepidation, looking Vicki straight in the eye and taking a swig of his drink.
‘Oh, you were singing and dancing away as happy as Larry. We had a few together, actually. It was great fun, though you did nearly break my back once or twice.’
‘I am sorry.’
‘No need. I enjoyed myself a lot … more than a lot.’
Rhys smiled and touched her hand in recognition of the kind words, drawing a smile from Vicki, too, when replying, ‘I may not be able to remember anything but I’m sure I did as well.’
‘Oh, there’s no doubt about that. I lost you after a while and wondered where you’d got to. Eventually, I found you in the kitchen, slumped in a chair, fast asleep, but with the ends of your mouth turned upwards, a bit like the Joker in Batman. You looked really peaceful and happy.’
‘How embarrassing!’ Rhys cringed and covered his face in mock shame.
‘Not at all. You looked lovely. I gave you a quick kiss on the forehead and left you to it. Ian assured me he’d get you home alright. We left shortly afterwards. I had a great night.’
‘Well, the New Year is always special.’
‘You’re right, but the real reason I was so happy was that I had your phone number.’
Rhys did not know how to respond but then offered, ‘And I’m glad you rung it.’
Vicki looked at him and stroked the back of his hand. All she wanted to do was jump on him and make love. Rhys stared back, thinking the same. After a few seconds, they both grabbed their glasses and took a few slow sips of their drinks, which succeeded in lowering the level of sexual voltage that crackled between them. Neither of them said a word as the electricity turned down.
The pub was almost full now and one or two of the drinkers bumped into the back of Vicki’s chair. The build-up of smoke was becoming suffocating and the chatter louder and louder. Rhys knew it would only get worse so, after finishing his pint, he suggested to Vicki that they go for a walk in the park. Although the temperature was barely above freezing, the sky was a sparkling blue and the day was bathed in sunlight. ‘Last night’s catching up on me a bit so some fresh air will do me good.’
‘Me, too.’
‘You’ll like the park. It’s beautiful.’
‘You’re the tour guide.’
Rhys smiled and rose from his seat. But before Vicki could follow, he stretched out his arm and made a stop sign with his hand. ‘Before we go, I think we should toast the New Year properly.’
He made his way to the bar and returned a few minutes later with a small bottle of Babycham and two half-pint glasses. He sat down again and poured the drink. Each glass was barely a quarter full.
‘I’m sorry I couldn’t get proper champagne and glasses, like, but this is Ponty, after all, come on!’
Vicki laughed.
‘Happy New Year, Vicki.’
‘Happy New Year to you, too, Rhys.’ They clinked their glasses and took a sip before Vicki added, ‘And decade.’
‘Absolutely.’
After finishing their drinks, they were putting on their coats when a friend of Rhys drew his attention for a moment. With his eyes averted, Vicki picked up the empty Babycham bottle and peeled off the label. She gave it the lightest of kisses before folding it and placing it in her purse.
Turning right as they left the White Hart, Vicki and Rhys walked slowly down the main street leading to the town centre before turning right once more and over a bridge which served as the entrance to the public park. The cold, crisp air compelled them both to button their coats right up to their necks, the frills of Vicki’s fawn-coloured Afghan seemingly extensions of her hair which glittered like gold in the brilliant sunshine. The shabby street, with newspaper wrapped around lampposts from the night’s wind, was further littered with New Year debris and was a total contrast to the beautifully maintained park. Even in the depths of winter, with trees void of leaves, borders void of flowers and lawns hard and bare, it still looked welcoming, with the sunlight bringing life to the yellows, browns and blacks of the remaining flora, and the tree branches, seemingly sprinkled with the finest hint of icing sugar, casting a crazy-paving of shadows across the ground.
With ghostly white whispers of breath accompanying their every step, Vicki and Rhys strolled straight ahead from the bridge and along a Tarmac road with tennis courts to their right behind a high wire fence. They held hands; Vicki’s feeling warm and snug as its bare skin nestled in his reassuring grasp. It felt like the most natural thing in the world to do. Their hands had come together the second they had left the pub and neither of them thought it necessary to make any comment about it. In fact, before they reached the park, they did not even realise they were doing so. As Rhys looked around him and breathed in the freshest of air that reddened his nostrils, the scene reminded him of one of his favourite films, Barefoot In The Park, though he was glad to keep his boots on. In a quiet moment, he wondered whether he would ever be in a position to take Vicki to New York and recreate the magic of Robert Redford and the delicious Miss Fonda. The reality drew a resigned look from his features but he locked the idea away in his head. At least he could dream.
‘What a fabulous park,’ Vicki proclaimed as they entered the cricket field. Its outfield was in such good condition that, despite the time of year, they would not have been surprised if a line of players strolled on behind them.
‘I thought you’d like it. It would have been criminal not to have gone for a walk on a day like this.’
‘You’re right.’
‘It’s the only good thing the town’s got going for it as far as I’m concerned,’ Rhys replied harshly.
‘Oh, I don’t know. From what I’ve seen of it so far, it’s got a sort of grittiness and edge to it I like. And the people are really friendly.’
‘Yeah, you’re right, I suppose, but there’s a lot of poverty here as well, certainly when compared to where you come from. Other than mining, there’s not that many jobs around and you’ll never catch me going down the pit. I couldn’t bear it.’
‘I don’t blame you. It sounds terrifying to me.’
‘My dad’s a miner, or he was, anyway. He’s got a bad back and coughs all the time ’cos his lungs are full of dust. He’s been on the sick for two years and I can’t see him ever working again. Mind you, if he gave up the fags, his chest would improve, I’m s
ure. He’s always banging on about money being as tight as a Scotsman on Burns Night, but, between him and my mum, they must smoke half of it away.’ Vicki gave a little chuckle but went quiet again as they circled the boundary, interested to learn more about Rhys’s family. ‘I’m being a bit unfair if I’m honest. They’re always putting themselves out for me. I love them more than anything and I know they feel the same way about me.’ Vicki squeezed Rhys’s hand and looked up at him with a loving smile. ‘Saying that, I think Dad’s a bit disappointed with me ’cos we’ve always been a family of miners and, as I’m an only child, there’s a good chance that’ll end with me. If I ever have children, I’ll never let them go down the pit.’
‘You’d like children then?’
‘Oh, yeah, one day, definitely. I’d love a son. He’d be the new Barry John, running out for Wales with number ten on his back. I’d die happy there and then if that ever happened.’
‘Who’s Barry John?’ Vicki asked mischievously.
Rhys stopped abruptly in his tracks and virtually pulled Vicki’s arm from its socket as she continued to stroll along without letting go of his hand.
‘Who’s Barry John?’ Rhys repeated Vicki’s question with incredulity. ‘You’re pulling my leg, aren’t you? He’s only the best rugby player who ever lived.’
‘I’m only winding you up! Even I’ve heard of Barry John. He’s not bad, I suppose.’
‘NOT BAD! You really are taking the piss now.
Vicki began to laugh and Rhys joined her, though somewhat half-heartedly. They resumed their walk around the boundary until Rhys changed direction for the rugby field where the Pontypridd team played their matches.
Vicki picked up the conversation. ‘My dad loves rugby and always goes to the internationals at Twickenham. He’s a member of Esher and goes most Saturdays.’
‘Funny you should mention Esher. I’ve no idea who they are but whenever they show the rugby results on Grandstand, I notice they always lose.’
Decade Page 3