It seems that Gwennie had a portion of her past she hadn’t shared with Warren. In that past there existed a young man named Nick Han that she had met in Berlin. She’d been a struggling musician with a demo tape and a headshot, that was desperately pursuing anyone she could find to give her music a listen. Mister Han had noticed her in a nightclub and approached her. It was a come on, she said, but he was attractive and seemed nice. After a while of flirting, she discovered he was actually a record producer and that he was more than willing to listen to her demo. They exchanged phone numbers. He took her on a few dates and seemed just as interested in her music as he was in pursuing her affections. It was not long before he introduced her to executives at a recording label. They weren’t overly interested at first. It took two years for Nick to convince them to come to one of her shows in Hamburg. Within six weeks she had a contract. Caught up in the excitement of it all and swept away by Nick from fancy party to fancy party, meeting famous people and jetting around the globe, she had married him when she was only twenty years old.
“It was such a mistake!” Gwennie confessed, “It wasn’t long before I knew it was all wrong. He was just so exciting and he knew all these famous, important people and I felt like a rock star with him. But after it all settled and we were in our flat, I just kept thinking about Renny and how much I missed him. It had been years since I’d seen him, but I had to find him. I tried to get on with my life for five years, but when I got picked up by a UK label and knew I was leaving Berlin, I told Nick how I felt. I told him all about Ren. He said if I needed to go find him to do it. He was so confident that I’d come back to him, but I knew I wasn’t going to.” She paused, “I was so scared to contact Ren. You have no idea. I sat in London for six weeks before I did it. He was so happy to hear from me. When we did finally get together, it was like nothing had changed between us. Nick’s a nice bloke, but I never loved him. I’m in love with Ren. I’ve always been.” She sighed, “And when Nick realised that he went psychotic on me. He said I used him. The really terrible thing is that he’s right. I did. I didn’t mean to, but I did.”
“We all make mistakes,” Oliver said gently, “Didn’t you tell Warren about Nick?”
She shook her head and hid her face with her hands. “No! It was so stupid! I wanted us to be perfect, so I never mentioned it! I filed for divorce thinking that Nick would just give it to me, but he refused. He contested it and the whole process got really messy. I didn‘t want Warren to know, so I kept it from him. I told Nick that I didn't want anything from him, no property, no money, I just wanted out, but he said he didn't care. I hurt him too badly. He wanted to drag the whole thing out just to hurt me back!”
“Are you still married to him?” I asked. I handed her a tissue.
She nodded miserably, “He’s still tying it up. I thought that I could get it over with, you know? Without hurting Ren, but Nick saw the pictures of me and Warren on a website and he got all bent out of shape! He just showed up in Greece at the hotel and marched up to Renny and showed him the marriage license and talked a bunch of shite! He didn’t bother to show him that we were in the middle of divorce proceedings!” Gwennie sniffed, “I swear it’s true! Here! I brought the papers with me.”
Oliver shook his head, “We don’t need to see them. Why didn’t you show these to Ren?”
“He wouldn’t listen to me! He was so hurt and so angry! He started shouting at me, telling me I was a liar and then he just left. He just walked out on me. He didn’t even bring his things with him. I let him go, yeah? I thought he was just angry and he’d be back. I sat there and I waited all night and he never came back. He left me, just like that. And now, he won’t talk to me. I‘ve called, I‘ve e-mailed. I‘ve written him letters. I even went to his house and banged on his door. I faxed these papers to him, but nothing. Not a word.”
“Oh, Gwen,” I sighed, “What a mess! I wish that there was something that we could do.”
“There isn’t,” Her eyes were filled with such sincerity they made me ache, “And I don’t want you to think that’s why I came here at all. I really did come just to visit. I’ve missed you both so much.”
Gwennie stayed for a while longer. When she left, she hugged us both. “I probably won’t see you again for a very long time,” She said, “But I want to thank you for all the kindness you’ve always shown me. If there ever comes a day when he asks, please tell Renny something for me? Tell him I’m sorry,” She said sadly, “Tell him if I could do it again, I’d tell him everything. And, please, tell him that I’ll love him forever. Nothing will ever change that. Forever.”
Oliver and I looked at each other, recognizing the echo of ourselves in that statement. Forever. We’d said that word to each other a million times. Her saying it and knowing she meant it in the light that Warren wasn’t giving her another chance was heart-breaking.
When we did deliver the message, Warren wasn’t interested in hearing it. “It’s more than that. She’s not honest about anything. She’s not honest about how she feels, what she does…anything. She’s not the Gwennie I knew. She’s a rock star now. She’s led about by the spotlight. She’s all caught up in the lifestyle. I can’t do it. I can’t pretend to be happy living like that, even if she is there. All I want is to play my piano and have a quiet life. There's no room for either of us in each other's worlds,” He sighed, “Besides, all she does is break my heart. Every single time.”
After he let Gwenllian go, Warren, firmly in his late twenties, lived alone in his grandparent’s house where his only mistress was his piano. He claimed to have friends, but I never saw any. When I would come by the house, it was never tidy and was always littered with cereal boxes and empty pizza containers.
“Mum, please don’t come over and clean my house!” He complained, “It’s not like I have rats scurrying about!”
“I’m not cleaning you’re house, I’m just taking out your rubbish, which is sort of the same thing in your case. Your grandmother Ana would be spinning in her grave if she knew you’d turned her house into such a muddle. How is work coming?”
Warren had used his connections with Gwen to remain a composer. He’d earned a name for himself by writing several songs that landed in the UK top twenty, but lately he’d seemed to have had enough of the lime light again and was quietly writing jingles for Annie’s advertising agency. He was teaching music from his home as well.
“It’s fine, Mum.”
“When was the last time you got out of the house?”
Being as music was his one true love, he didn’t get away from the piano long enough to meet a lady or at least create any foundation for a serious relationship. He always seemed lonely to me, even if he didn’t recognize it himself.
“Ah, Mum!” He scratched at his chin, which badly needed shaved, “I’m busy! I don’t have time for complications!”
“I’m not telling you to complicate your life!” I told him, “Just get out of the blasted house once in a while and I’ll keep my thoughts to myself. It would be nice for you to meet someone, don’t you think?”
He rolled his eyes at me, “And what do you suggest? I could run an advert, I suppose. Find some lovely lass on the internet! Can’t you read it now? ‘Single white male. Working musician. Seeks down to earth lady with brains, beauty and elegant taste. Must enjoy listening to jingles repeatedly and having potential mother in law invade domicile without notice’. That or I’ll somehow miraculously find a nice girl in the local pub?” He turned, as if speaking to an invisible someone, “‘May I buy you a drink, Miss?’” He raised his voice to sound more feminine and turned as if speaking to himself, “‘Oh, yes! Ten! And then let’s go back to your flat where I can infect you with some lethal virus and leave you for dead!’” He turned back to me, “Sound good, Mum?”
“I don’t suggest you run an advert,” I narrowed my eyes at him and pretended that he’d insulted me, even though what he had just said was quite funny, “Or go looking in any pub, especially not most of t
he ones in this town. I just wish you wouldn’t spend your life hulled up in this old house. It’s a big world out there, Warren. Once upon a time you were out in it and now you’re holed up in Welshpool like a hermit! Life is short, Son. Use your wings now and again before they atrophy and fall off.” I had an urge to mention that the same thing might happen to his penis, but I held myself back. I knew my son would have a problem with his mother referencing his penis, especially having it fall off.
He rolled his eyes at me again.
About a month later he rang to tell me he had struck up a conversation in the market with the cashier. Her name was Heather and she wanted to be a music teacher, but couldn’t find a job locally.
“I took her out for coffee. She’s very clever, Mum, and she’s seems like her feet are on the ground. Anyway, I told not to worry if she couldn’t find a job teaching. I told her about my idea to start my own music school.”
“And?”
“And nothing. I told her I’d help her out is all. I’ve been looking into it and I’ve found an empty building in Newtown. I think I’ll do it, Mum. I’ve got a quid or two stashed away.”
“Is she pretty, Warren?”
“What? Ah, Mum,” He sounded annoyed with me, as usual, “Yeah, she’s pretty. And, yeah, I’ve asked her out to dinner as well and she accepted. Are you pleased that I’ve made contact with someone of the female persuasion? I thought it might calm your fears some that I’ll without a doubt die alone and without love.”
“I never said that.”
“Ah, you didn’t have to. I know you too well.”
And what did my youngest son, Warren, go and do next? He took that girl, Heather, out on a date. And then another and then several more. They went on holiday together for two weeks and seemed to be getting along smashingly until one September a year later when she kissed him at our house and casually told him she was in love with him.
What did Warren do after that? He had his father go with him to pick out an engagement ring for Heather and he asked her to marry him. She accepted and the couple took their time planning a date. About six months later he happened to check his mail. Inside the letterbox was an envelope addressed to him with a CD inside. Curious, he opened it. A note scrawled in familiar handwriting read:
Dear Warren,
You probably remember me as the big sister who used to tell you to turn your music off and go to bed. I changed my mind. I want you to drop everything you’re doing at the moment and put this song on and I want you to listen to it. You have to listen to it. You have to before it’s too late. I love you, Little Brother, but you’re very stubborn and very stupid.
Love,
Caro
PS And before you go jetting out on your first impulse to go and see Heather, breathe. Just breathe.
Scribbled in black marker on the blank CD were the words “He Said”. Warren popped it into his player and, no surprise, he heard Gwenllian’s voice. "He said he would have waited forever. He said that he'd never leave. I said I had loved him forever and then I chased him away. I chased him away. If he only knew. If he only knew that it kills me to know that he's happy without me. If he only knew that every day I'm sorry I hurt him. I'll always regret what he said."
What did Warren do then? According to legend, he listened to the song about ten times. Then he picked up his jacket and walked straight out his front door to go to Heather’s work and tell her he only wanted her. However, on his way there, he said he stopped at a red light and took a breath as his sister had suggested. Before he knew it, he turned right instead of left and found himself on the M16 doing well over the speed limit. He made it to London in half time, had a chat with a doorman he used to know, convinced the man to let him inside uninvited and walked into an apartment building where he met Gwenllian Hughes as she was crossing the lobby to exit. She froze mid-step and they stared at each other in an uneasy silence. Finally, Warren, without approaching her, from halfway across the room, scolded her for lying to him and accused her manipulation and being a heartless wench. Gwen stood in silence and allowed herself to be rebuked. At the end of his tirade, Warren confessed that he’d made a colossal mistake by just leaving like he had and told her that she was the only woman he had ever loved and was the only one he ever wanted to love him. “Who cares if you’re married or I’m supposed to get married?” He demanded. “Details! Complications can be simplified! It’s just doesn’t have to matter if we want to be together!”
And what did Gwennie do? She dropped her headset on the floor and she ran into his arms. I wasn't there, of course, but two weeks later, the doorman, whose name was Diego, told me the story before their wedding. “Neither of them would let go of the other," He smiled, “Like they were afraid if they did they’d lose each other forever. It was quite a while before they left the lobby.”
Gwenllian Hughes became Gwenllian Dickinson in the same registrar’s office where Oliver and I had been married forty-four year before. There was a new constable, of course, and the room had been cleaned and dusted, but otherwise it looked the same as it had that day all those years ago. Alexander grinned and nodded, “This is a good place," He whispered and both Oliver and I agreed. Bess couldn’t make the occasion, but Oliver and I stood with Carolena, Adam, Gryffin, Lakshmi, Alex, Lucy, Nigel, Nattie, Mickey and Annie, and Steffen, and we watched our Warren and the girl from down the street take their vows. When Gwen kissed him she whispered, “I’ll love you forever, Ren,” and he whispered the words, “Forever, Gwennie” back to her.
It was all his father and I needed to know that they’d come full circle. We were thrilled.
After swearing that there would never be another secret between them, Warren and Gwen settled into Ana and Eddie’s old house. They sat together hand in hand and laughed at everything and everyone around them all the time. Gwen took time off from recording to help Warren set up his school of music in Newtown, which attracted many students just because she was involved. She released two more albums in collaboration with him and went on a world tour. He stayed home to mind his students. Five years later, her next album was released to a cooler response, but I think that was fine with her, especially since she had just discovered she was pregnant. In May of the following year she bore twin daughters. What do two consummate musicians name two baby girls? Aria and Lyric, of course. Three years after that, they had a son they called Cade, which was, of course, short for Cadence.
Five years after the last grandchild came into the world, Oliver and I were sitting at the kitchen table. Spread out before us were a pile of papers. Bank statements, retirement fund quotes, life insurance policies, an inventory of all we owned, the deed to the land in the wood, and the receipt from the cheque from the bank for the amount that Oliver had just sold his medical practice.
“This is depressing,” He said with a grin, “But it must be done.”
“It must.”
We sat together and figured out exactly what our life’s work was worth and devised a way to split it among all seven children and our grandchildren. It was not as easy a thing to do as I might have thought.
“They can sell the cars,” Oliver sat back in his seat, “And really anything else they might want to get rid of. I imagine there’ll be some.”
“And what about the house and the land?”
“I’ve thought about that. This land’s been in my family for almost three hundred years. Caro lives too far, it’ll rot out by the time she gets back here to it. Nigel loves the wood, but he’s busy with his own life. His children aren’t interested. It would sit. Annie and Bess…they’ve no attachment. Bless them, they’d just sell it off. Natalie’s a wonderful choice, but she’s got her own home and family, she doesn’t want to be bothered coming out here. So that leaves us two choices. Our sons, Gryffin and Warren.”
“Warren lives the closest,” I said quietly, but it was my sensibility talking, not my heart. “He’d care for the place.”
“Aye, he does.” Oliver nodded in agreement, “A
nd he would take care of it. Maybe he’d even use it sometimes. But his piano wouldn’t fit in here and I don’t think he’d ever want to tear himself away from his music.”
“I agree.”
“It’s Gryffin who loves the wood most of all,” Oliver was looking at the papers on the table, “He always has.”
“He does.” I agreed, relieved that he said what I’d been thinking, “Gryffin understands the winds and whispers. He has a special tie to the faerie folk.”
“He’s connected to this place in a way the others are not,” Oliver’s face relaxed as he looked into my eyes, “He’d live here if it were empty. I’m sure of that. He’d live here with Lakshmi and he’d write his stories under the tree like he used to when he was little.”
“I know he would.”
“And he wouldn’t change it up.” Oliver was deep in thought. “I reckon he’d probably not change a thing. He respects the magic of the place.”
“He’s made up of all the magic that’s here. If any of the children got a full cup of muffin magic, it was our Gryffin.”
“Now that’s the truth.”
“Ollie, there is no choice. The cabin and the land need to go to him. You know that as well as me.”
He nodded again, “I thought the same.”
We were quiet for a moment.
“If I go before you, I want Carolena to have my ring,” I ran my fingers over it, “To give to Kitty one day.”
“All right, Love,” He wrote it down. “Anything else?”
“I think we’re finished.”
“I hated doing this when I was thirty. It was much simpler then. It reminds me of my mortality and I hate that. I’m only sixty… something…”
I laughed, “And getting senile, I see! You’re sixty seven, Sweetie!”
“Am I that old?”
“That’s not old!”
He laughed. “Sixty seven! Here I was thinking that old bloke in the bathroom mirror was me and to find out I’m still young.”
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