Cold Enough to Freeze Cows

by Lorraine Jenkin

  “It’s fine, no problem at all,” clipped the man, checking his watch, although his face suggested that it was becoming a bit of a bore. Louisa cursed her father under her breath and then felt cross with herself. She should be able to pass the time with just a little small talk surely?

  “So, do you have er, many flats up for rent in Tan-y-Bryn?”

  “Five. Three two-beds and two one-beds.”

  “Oh.”

  She looked into the window of the Pound Shop below the flat and thought how handy it would be to have such a place so near when she was setting up her new home. Although she had assumed that she would just pinch a few of her parents’ clothes pegs and scouring pads, it might actually be nice to have a few of her own things new.

  Come on, come on, make an effort. This was supposed to be a new start: keep trying, girl!

  “Is there – is there much difference in price?”

  “Between what?”

  “The flats – one-beds and two-beds?” She smiled engagingly as he dived for his ringing phone and turned away from her. To her relief she saw her father’s car pull up and David jumped out, grabbing his coat from the passenger seat.

  “Sorry I’m late, love, got Market Road and Market Street mixed up.”

  “Da-ad,” she frowned, “I told you it was Street.”

  “Ah, Mr Harrison, how are you, sir? No, no problem at all. Shall we go on in? After you!” The estate agent clicked on his salesman’s charm and followed David into the hall, asking about his journey and had he looked at anything else. Louisa was left to trail in behind them, neither of whom noticed her scowl.

  “Er, excuse me,” she felt like saying, “it’s going to be my flat,” but then she realised that she’d allowed her dad to make the phone call and book the appointment – in hindsight, perhaps she could have done it herself.

  She climbed the stairs with a wrinkle across her nose: it smelt a bit musty and that swirly green carpet must have been there for years. But standing at the door at the top of the stairs declaring Flat 40B in only slightly grimy white plastic, gave her a tremor of excitement – the first flat she’d ever looked at and it happened to be her bra size! How was that for fate?

  She stepped inside, anticipating a large airy flat with a shiny new kitchen with a central island and marble surfaces. She’d hoped for stripped floors and off-white walls. She’d not quite decided between a freestanding bath fed from above or a power shower, but ideally the tiles would be Welsh slate.

  Instead, she was confronted by a dingy little hall with five yellowed doors leading from it, which the agent opened to show Louisa and David a galley kitchen, an internal bathroom, two small bedrooms and a reasonable sitting room housing a gas fire with a “condemned” sticker across it.

  “The landlord’s going to replace it before the flat’s let,” the estate agent promised, in response to David’s raised eyebrow.

  “Well, Louisa,” asked David, “what do you think?”

  “Well, it’s OK I s’pose…” she started.

  “I remember my first flat!” David turned to the agent. “No heating, no hot water, outdoor privy – horrible place!”

  “Yeah, and mine – ours came with a cat and we soon found out why: we never had to feed it once ourselves!” laughed the agent. “Yes, your first flat should be a bit on the, well, the less salubrious side shall we say! Got to create some memories haven’t you!”

  David suddenly looked sharp. “Yes, but actually, young people today, perhaps they expect more…”

  “I’ll take it!” said Louisa. “It’s the only one I can afford on my own at the moment and it’s fine.” She looked around again – a lick of paint, a few scented candles and it would soon be OK. Her dad could help her paint it – and he could buy the paint cheap from work. Yes, she needed a bit of a kick-start to her adventure, a grotty flat to moan about with her new friends – no point in having it all luxurious, otherwise she might as well stay at home.

  The look on the agent’s face showed how surprised he was that the squishy marshmallow girl that he had ignored outside actually had an opinion. However, he strode forward and shook her hand. “Well, congratulations! Welcome to your new home!” He turned to David. “I’ll need a month’s rent in advance, a reference from her employer and if there is none available from a previous landlord, then I’ll need a parental guarantor? OK with you?”

  David nodded and though Louisa was slightly put out, it would be good if her dad sorted the nitty gritty – and, ideally, put up the deposit. He would get his money back afterwards, so it didn’t really matter.

  As the agent painstakingly typed their details into his electric notebook, Louisa had another look around – yes, it would be OK. Also, at that price, she didn’t need a flatmate to share with, so if it took a while to find someone suitable, she could still manage. She wondered if Esther would run her up some new curtains. Some nice velvet ones to keep in the warmth – maybe the same cream as those that they had at home? Perhaps they could chat together about colour schemes as she sewed – her mum would like that…

  CHAPTER 17

  Mor oer â llyffant – as cold as a toad (very cold person)

  “I’ve bought the tickets for the annual sheep breeders dinner for this year,” said Menna’s mother, Jean, as Menna was eating her breakfast. “February second.”

  “Great,” said Menna, her mouth full of toast, “where is it this year?”

  “Lamp Hotel,” clipped her mother who had finished her own breakfast over an hour ago and was ironing frantically in the corner. “The Stag didn’t have enough potatoes,” she said, as if that was reason enough.

  “I remember,” nodded Menna, smiling at the outrage of the previous year as hungry farmers near inhaled their main courses and had to fill up on crisps. She, Iestyn and Johnny had crept out for chips during the speeches, giggling like naughty children as they sat in the car park in her truck and tried not to get grease on their smart clothes.

  “You all right with what you wore last year?”

  Menna knew that Jean was sharp and knew that if she asked the question early enough, she would not really think about it and then by the time she did realise, it would be too late – no chance of wheedling money out of Mother if she’d already agreed to wearing last year’s outfit just a few weeks before.

  Menna thought back to the tailored black trousers and white blouse that she’d worn to what was known as the last big blow out before lambing started. “Yeah, s’pose so.” People had kept stopping her and asking for more gravy, but at least she’d been comfortable. Most of the other women wore dresses – some beautiful, others dated and too tight, but no one really minded; everyone knew each other and so it didn’t really matter what anyone wore. Iestyn had worn one of Joe’s suits and had looked uncomfortable, but hunky. He hadn’t seemed to notice what she was wearing and probably wouldn’t again this year, he’d just been glad that she hadn’t been drinking so that she could drive them to the chippy and back.

  Perhaps she’d speak to Sima and see what she thought. She might be able to pop into town and buy something new with the leftovers from her bungalow decorating fund; it could be her chance to show a different side to Menna Edwards, one without tracksuit bottoms.

  “Actually, Mum, maybe I could do with something different – you know, a dress or something? I could go to Cardiff, maybe? Get something nice?”

  “Cardiff? Phooey!” blew Jean. “Well, it’s possible I suppose. A dress might not be such a good idea – you know, with your ankles? Dresses can make lower legs look quite puffy: you’re probably better off with a nice pair of trousers? Why not look in the catalogue and get yourself a new blouse instead?”

  Menna shrugged, losing the will to fight for a corner that she knew very little about. Her mate, Jan, always wore trousers and she looked really good in them. Menna finished her breakfast as her mother whipped through the rest of the ironing.

  “Right,” she said, getting to her feet, “I’ll get back out and car
ry on with the mucking out,” pushing her chair away from the table and heading towards the porch.

  She didn’t notice her mother put down the iron before the last tea towel had been steamed into submission and put into a pile – a thing she had never done before. She didn’t notice her mother biting her lips as a little flutter of self-doubt flickered across her face. And she certainly didn’t notice her mother’s face flash with pain as she remembered a beautiful red dress that had been a punctuation mark in her own youth…

  Louisa sidestepped her mother’s excitement about the flat and popped upstairs to her computer – no way could she wait until after supper to see if he had replied! How had her comment been received? Would there be a snappy comment back? Would he have left maybe a more sincere message – no, of course he wouldn’t have. Replying, “Somewhere near a chippy that doesn’t have your parents sleeping in the spare bedroom is a good start!” to her leading question about what to look for in getting a flat had not been the lead in to a romantic tryst – it had probably been a bloke with five minutes on his hands before his mother called him for his tea.

  And what about her comment about preferring Chinese? It had taken her forty-five minutes to think of that and first she’d had a proper tussle with the instinct to reply that she would not wish to live next door to a chip shop, what with the noise and the smells and the late night disruption, thank you very much. Yet, it was a worthy consideration for someone in her situation. Not to mention possible damage to her car parked outside – the thought of having to remove grease that had been smeared on her windscreen by some drunken fool, or a sauce portion shoved up her exhaust pipe was off-putting to say the least.

  Louisa was almost shaking as the PC whirred back into life, she was too impatient to change into her civvies, as her dad called them, and instead had spent the boot up re-arranging her Whimsy and glass dog collections.

  She rattled the mouse – come on! The Internet leapt into being just as she heard her dad’s car snaking down the lane into Anweledig and her irritation grew – he was bound to call her down or come straight upstairs to discuss the flat. She’d sort of moved on from the needing a new flat phase. Indeed, if she were honest with herself, it had been adventure enough just to go and see one and to say yes to renting it. Perhaps she could now stay with her folks; maybe until she’d seen somewhere that she might like to buy? Perhaps see how things panned out with this bloke first? No point signing up for a year’s tenancy, if she were going to be engaged within six months.

  Her blog jumped up and there were two messages! Irritatingly, one from Herbie saying, “Hi, Lulu, keep up the good work, yeah?”, but a much better one – from – him!

  “Lou-ee-sa! Lou-EE-sa! Are you up there? Are you coming down? I’ve got some news!”

  Louisa snarled in fury – she so desperately wanted to be left in peace. However, she called, “Yes – I’m on my way down now,” instead and wrenched open her door just as her mind processed the comment: Glad you prefer Chinese – I do too! Perhaps we could meet and compare notes over noodles one night?

  “Lou-ee-sa! Are you there? Come down – oh, there you are love.”

  Louisa stomped down the stairs; the last thing she needed was her dad coming up and sniffing about, reading her messages over her shoulder. How appropriate for her blog to be at the “Well, I just couldn’t handle living with my folks any longer! You know, needed my own space, yeah?” stage.

  Mr Harrison was nearly brimming over with excitement as he stood in the kitchen with Esther buzzing around in the background, trying to turn sausages without missing out on any of the news; it would never be re-told for her benefit, so she had to listen carefully.

  “All right, love?” said David, resisting the urge to hop from foot to foot, “I’ve got some news!” He was disappointed to see Louisa’s scowl. It had been said in the past, by some of the less kind people at the golf club, that his daughter had a face like a smacked arse, but he never liked to acknowledge that side of her: we all have our moments…

  “I went down to the estate agents after work, love – that’s why I’m a bit late back – and have paid your deposit and a month’s rent in advance and guaranteed the remaining six month’s rent and given a reference from my employer, and therefore – it’s yours! From Wednesday!” He threw open his arms and his eyebrows mingled with the middle of his forehead and he waited for his daughter to squeal in excitement and dance him round the kitchen. Her first flat! They were going to have such fun!

  He’d been cross with Diane in the car earlier when he’d asked if she’d minded waiting for five minutes whilst he popped in and completed the paperwork. He’d rather hoped that she’d have just walked home – it would have been quicker. Instead, she’d sat there, coat and bag on her lap and her lips pursed.

  “Shouldn’t Louisa be doing this bit, David?” was all that she’d asked, not seeming convinced by the answer that his daughter was busy. He could have sworn that he heard her mutter, “Busy having her tea made for her…” under her breath, but Diane had sworn that she had just coughed and so he’d let it lie…

  However, it so happened that Louisa had been busy having her tea made for her and out of the corner of his eye he could see his wife struggling to mash the potato without the saucepan swinging round in circles and he felt disappointed. Come on, girl; show a little enthusiasm will you?

  “Great,” said Louisa, in a voice that said, “Really?”

  “Mum, it’s going to fall,” she added, looking past her father to where her mother was struggling, but without making a move to go and help. Esther butted the saucepan further back on the side with her hip and gripped the work surface harder with her weaker hand.

  David felt unable to leave it at that, despite the slur, and opened himself up for a greater fall. “I thought that the deposit and the first month’s rent could be our housewarming gift?” he tailed off, seeing Esther’s eyebrow rise in a way that shouted, “And what of our conservatory?” But he didn’t ask for much, all he really wanted was a warm hug and a sharing of his excitement.

  “Thanks, Dad,” said Louisa, pinching a sausage from under the grill and walking past him. “I’ll be back in a sec’,” she said, “I’ve just got to check something,” and he saw his daughter run back upstairs, chomping on her sausage, blissfully unaware of the amount of hours that he would have to work to earn the money he’d just gifted her. Money that wasn’t solely his to make decisions about. Money that he’d sworn would go towards a conservatory to keep his wife warm on a spring afternoon.

  “That was your sausage she pinched,” Esther snarled, rolling her eyes, and turned back to pound her mash.

  “Oh, don’t be so miserly, Esther – the girl only gets her first flat once in a lifetime. Don’t spoil things for her now, for goodness sake!” It was easy to snap at Esther: he’d had years of practice…

  CHAPTER 18

  Fel gafr ar daranau – like a goat in a thunderstorm (agitated, nervous)

  Menna was sitting in her bungalow after work when the phone rang. She had been expecting the call and had a pad of paper and a pen at the ready and had pulled the little coffee table over to the sofa.

  “Menna? Hello, it’s Sima here, how are you?”

  “Sima! Hello, I’m very well thanks, and you?”

  “Fantastic. Is it a convenient moment to have a chat?”

  It certainly is, thought Menna; she had been waiting for this for days.

  “I’ve been having a think about what you said, but run through it again with me, I want to make sure I’ve got the scenario right.”

  Menna chattered in a way that would have surprised her, if she’d stopped to think about it. She had perfect clarity in her own mind about what the problems were and possibly even why; strange really that she couldn’t just sort herself out. Sima yep-yep-I-see’d from the other end of the line and, when Menna was done, she clarified things a little more before launching into her own thoughts.

  Menna wrote a list of notes on her pa
d; trying to write it down exactly as Sima said it so that she could make sense of it afterwards.

  “Now, do you think you can do those things?” asked Sima at the end.

  Menna scanned her list. “Um, yes, I think that they are fine. Yes, I can do those.”

  “OK, but start at the beginning. The actions at the end might be a lot more uncomfortable if you haven’t taken the smaller steps first.”

  “Yes, I can imagine!” Menna laughed. She was excited, nervous and keen to get moving.

  “What I also need you to do – and this is a little bit harder – is to try and have a think about where all this has come from? I know that we all have our hang ups, and this is just the way we human beings are, but if you understand a bit about why you find it hard to be anything more than good old Menna, you might be able to tackle it a bit better?

  “Now, Joe and I are coming down again in a week or two, but until then, get stuck in and have a think about it all and then we can talk properly – maybe we’ll go out for lunch or something? It might be quite nice to escape the indoor slugs and the scones for an hour or two! Love Pencwmhir as I do, sometimes it would be nice to have something to eat that didn’t come with mountains of mash…”

  Menna laughed, “I know what you mean. I’m sure I can think of somewhere that we can sit down without having to drink an urnfull of tea before we are allowed to get up again!”

  They said their goodbyes and Menna thanked Sima again for her time and her thoughts. She would add find a nice café to her list of things to do.

  Menna sat back into the sofa, pulling the opulent throw around her and hugging its warmth with joy. She felt like she was at the beginning of a journey; one that could take her who knows where! She read through her notes again and added a few more points in the margins. The checking out styles and looking at what other people wore and she thought looked good should be easy enough (if she bought a few magazines and watched a bit of telly – she was unlikely to run into Trinny and Susannah down the Bull or up on the hills); it was the understanding it bit that might be a little more painful…