by Laura Kemp
Satisfied with his conclusion, he returned to his quest for pennies.
Ceri mouthed ‘aw’ at Rhodri and he felt his tummy flip like a Welsh pancake. She jumped as she remembered why she was there.
‘Shit, I haven’t told you. I was driving back from St Davids and on the way, I saw two vans parked at the top of the woodland where the road passes by. Can you get access to the woods from there?’
‘There’s an old stile. What about the vans?’ His chest was thumping.
‘There was a council one …’ Ceri paused and her eyes dropped. ‘Plus a CadCon one.’
‘Damn it,’ Rhodri said, stamping his foot. ‘Right, let’s go. Henry, come on, we need to get up there.’
The three of them raced off the beach and up the lane, past Rhodri’s house and into the trees where several yellow hardhats were visible right at the peak of the woods. He saw his father, and Dai, and felt a surge of rage.
‘Dad!’ Rhodri yelled. ‘Dai!’
He saw their heads turn, there was a discussion and an age passed as the pair of them navigated the path down to him.
‘What’s going on?’ he demanded.
‘Site visit, son,’ his dad said importantly. ‘What does it look like?’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘The information is in the public arena,’ Dai said. ‘You should know that.’
He was struggling to keep calm in the face of Dai’s pomposity. So he aimed his anger at their father.
‘Dad, this is wrong and you know it. Look at it, look at this place, why would you want to chop it all down?’
‘Rhodri, this is what the village needs. It’ll bring work to the people, I’ll be using local tradesmen and so on, and it will, in time, improve the provision of services. A new health centre, better schools. Otherwise the youngsters born here will leave, like they do now.’
‘But tourism, if we can bring it back, that’s a trade in itself, something we can manage as a community. Your development will be out of keeping with our traditional way of life. Dad, you’re just coming across as heartless.’
‘Everything I’ve ever done has been done with heart!’ his dad cried. ‘For my family, for you boys.’
‘See, this is what you do. Make me out to be ungrateful. But I’m the one who’s stayed in this village, not the others.’
Dad’s silence confirmed what Rhodri knew: his father thought he wasn’t fulfilling his potential. Talk about double standards.
‘We’re going to have to get on.’ Dai turned and left without any farewell.
‘This isn’t the last of it,’ Rhodri raged.
‘You can’t fight this, Rhodri,’ his father said. ‘And your mother is worried sick we’re going to fall out.’
The gall of him, trying to emotionally blackmail him into backing down.
He stood his ground. ‘I can’t watch this happen and do nothing.’
‘You’d best lodge your objections to the planning committee then,’ his father said, sounding like a true suit. ‘I’ll see you later, son.’
Rhodri wanted to cry with frustration. His fists were balled and he had to turn away from the sight of his father’s departing back to regain control. Deep breaths in through the nose, hold for six, out through the mouth. He rooted his heels into the soft mossy bed to bring himself back to earth, seeing Ceri at work with Henry building a den. When she saw he was watching, she told Henry to keep going and came over to Rhodri’s side.
‘Did it go as badly as it looked?’
‘Worse,’ he said, as the reality began to sink in. ‘Dad’ll be smooth-talking his way now to a decision in his favour. An appeal would take forever. We’re running out of time.’
‘Oh, no. Do you really think so?’
‘Yes. I do. We’re going to have to get a petition going and fix a date for a demo. Write to the papers, the MP, all of that.’
‘Great. I’ll do as much as I can. If that’s any good. Although I’m not sure how much help I can be in a few days. I’m off on Friday.’
‘That’s fantastic, Ceri.’ But something occurred to him. ‘Why do you care so much?’
She wrung her hands and took a breath.
‘It’s going to sound silly but … I kind of feel like I’m having a holiday romance.’
He gulped. He knew how she felt and his voice broke because how could he not ask. ‘With whom?’
‘Dwynwen!’ she cried. ‘Don’t look so flaming shocked! You were the one who got me hooked.’
At least he’d managed that.
‘But I thought you found us a bit … foreign.’
‘Not so much anymore.’ She smiled. ‘I suppose I’m getting used to your funny ways. It is different here but everything has its place and everyone has the right to be what they are. Like, Dwynwen, it doesn’t need to be brought up to date or gentrified or anything. That’s not to say it doesn’t need a helping hand. But it’s perfect, most of the time, as it is.’
How could it be they always ended up having these sorts of deep conversations when they barely knew each other? This was the problem: inexplicably, she made him feel things deeper than anyone else ever had. And he couldn’t stop his own outpouring.
‘It’s about finding happiness in what is there, in the ordinary, isn’t it? Rather than thinking, if it was just like that, it’d be perfect. A bit like relationships.’
‘Seconded,’ Ceri said.
‘The thing is,’ he said, ‘we have to get cracking. We haven’t got the luxury of time. And it won’t be easy fighting my father and brother, let alone my employer.’
He looked up into the branches and saw change was coming. The breeze was stiff now, Ceri’s hair was whipping her lovely face, and out west, at sea, its blue beauty was covered with a sheet of corrugated iron. It all pointed one way.
‘Things are going to get rough, Ceri,’ he said. ‘And I don’t just mean the weather.’
16
The wind had blown Ceri in and today it was going to blow her out again. This time, though, it had a name, Storm Elsie. And she was giving it her all with ninety five mile per hour gusts which Ceri battled to stay upright on her way to the car. The bags full of goodbyes bought for her friends in Dwynwen flapped and flew in her hands as she found her keys and it took a gut-busting effort to pull open the door before she could throw herself in. It slammed on her just in the nick too as Elsie chucked a deluge of rain on St Davids which made the Friday morning shoppers scatter like dropped marbles for refuge. Some farewell this was from Wales as the downpour turned to deafening hail, pelting the roof, and an inch of ice quickly buried the wipers. If there wasn’t a break in this weather bomb, Mum’s ashes would be blasted all the way to Spain. Not how Ceri had planned it but maybe it was for the best: Mum would be with Emilio in the click of a castanet and Ceri’s dreaded drawn-out ta-ta would be cut short by the elements. There’d be no lingering walk in the woods and no chance to touch the bunting or wave out of the car until everyone was out of sight. And her sorrow would be eclipsed by the urge to outrun the battering. All there was to do was to wheel her stand-up suitcase from the hallway and pick up Mum and her letter and set her free.
She took out her phone to see if Tash had answered the text she’d sent as soon as she’d got to town to tell her she was coming home and would she mind if she crashed Mother’s Day tomorrow because it was going to be difficult. She hadn’t bothered to mention finding out about the house being sold from Jade because Tash would only get narky. It needed to be done face to face. And really, Ceri wanted to hold on to the warmth of her holiday for as long as she could. The sadness she felt at leaving was in her core but she’d be back one day. Her worry now was work – how she was going to get back into the groove of selling herself again, when she’d loved her anonymity so much. But she’d file it away for Monday.
Yes, Tash had replied – ‘Sorry, we
’ve gone to Kev’s sister’s, back in the week’ – and there were five missed FaceTime calls from Jade. It was the last thing Ceri wanted to do but she had been away for three weeks now – she owed it to her mate. And she might as well reacquaint herself with technology.
Seeing her own face as the call connected, Ceri looked rested, albeit windswept. Jade’s sunny smile lit up the screen and Ceri grinned, so pleased to see her after so long.
‘Hiya!’ she said just as Jade’s image froze. Even though she was caught mid-blink, she still looked glamorous with her styled blonde bob framing her big blue eyes and gorgeous bee-sting lips. Ceri knew instantly she was wearing the Cheap As Chic range aimed at the office girl in her twenties – Dawn 2 Dusky Cream foundation, In the Spotlight contouring highlighter, Sassy Black liquid liner and mascara, Cheeky Pink blush and Classy Bird barely there lip gloss. It felt a world away – and Jade was shouting now as if she was.
‘Pricey? Is that you?’ For a beat, she didn’t recognise herself as Price, she was so used to being Rees.
‘Yes! Can you hear me? I can hear you. The 4G here is crap!’
‘Oh my God, Ceri … what’s going on? You’re all fuzzy!’
‘I’m in the car in a storm.’
‘Shit! Are you all right? You look terrible.’
‘Don’t panic, I’m fine!’
Jade’s mouth began to move again and there was no mistaking her grimace. ‘But your face … and your hair, you look awful.’ She was never one to mince her words. ‘You’re supposed to be doing a photoshoot in an hour. You are on your way home, aren’t you?’
‘Eh?’ What photoshoot?
‘Oh, Ceri, I’ve been taking it as read that even if you haven’t been able to reply you’ll be reading your emails.’ Jade’s eyes were bulging. ‘I had to sign off the OMG range. I hadn’t heard from you so I assumed it’d be okay. The photographer is coming to do promo shots. Jesus … what are we going to do?’
‘Shit. I’m so sorry, kid.’
‘Why are you looking like that anyway? What if you get spotted? The company will go bananas. You’re supposed to be an ambassador!’ Manicured nails in Ceri Price cherry covered her mouth. It was a far cry from Ceri’s own plain fingers which hadn’t seen varnish for days.
‘What do you mean? I thought I looked quite nice. Natural.’
‘You look a flamin’ state! Haven’t you got any make-up on?’
‘No,’ she said, offended. She didn’t look such a wreck surely?
‘But it was your rule! Neither of us to go out without a face on! Have you gone raving? Look, the phone’s ringing … I’ve got to pick up. What the frig am I going to say?’
Ceri’s mind went frantic for an excuse for her no-show. ‘Tell them I’m ill.’ Because apparently she looked it to Jade.
‘Ceri, I can’t be making up these excuses any more. This has gone on too long now. I’ve had to stick up a post on Twitter and Facebook saying you’re just having some time out. But three weeks is a long time on social media. They’re asking why you’ve done no videos of late. A couple of the advertisers are getting a bit heavy.’
This was like a telling-off from the boss – and rightly so. Ceri did feel bad she’d let the tables turn and left it all to Jade to cover. But going back to vlogging and tweeting and Facebooking would do her head in. The answer was staring her in her naked face.
‘You’re going to have to do it.’
‘Me?’ Jade yelped.
Thinking on her feet, Ceri made a decision. ‘Think of it as a practice run for your wedding make-up. Tell them the new range needs a new campaign, a new face. You.’
Jade went silent and rested her chin on her hand. ‘Ceri, this will change things. It’s not just something you throw out willy-nilly. What about our strategy?’
Ceri couldn’t even remember the strategy, only their brain-storming meetings at an Alderley Edge wine bar where they cackled and snorted from too much prosecco. She saw a crossroads looming and before she knew it, she had chosen a new direction.
‘Look, the way I see it, you’re younger than me. You’re twenty-five. I’m banging on the door of thirty and I’m getting too old to spend my life online. And you’re exactly what Cheap As Chic needs. You’re the market.’
And just like that, she was walking away from herself. Resigning from the position of Ceri Price. Jade was staring at her open-mouthed. Ceri nodded slowly because even though she hadn’t consciously sat down to work it out, it made sense because it was true.
‘If you do this now,’ Jade said, ‘there’s no going back.’
Her finger-wagging went blank and was replaced by the word reconnecting.
There’s no going back echoed in Ceri’s ears. It had all moved on. The range wasn’t hers anymore – in her heart of hearts, she knew she couldn’t sell it when she couldn’t relate to her old life. It wasn’t who she was now. Jade would manage and she’d do it bloody well. What’s more, Tash hadn’t made a ‘welcome home’ sign for her. Why should she? There was no one else to blame. This was Ceri’s doing. She started the engine and felt … what? Upset, excluded, lost, frightened, aimless? Not a bit. Just sheer relief the load was off her shoulders. Up north wasn’t home anymore. But what did that make Dwynwen?
She crawled back to the village, with all these thoughts whirling around her head like the leaves and branches careering across the treacherous waterlogged roads. It was a dangerous, blustery drive under squalling cats-and-dogs and twice she had to swerve to avoid debris. She was operating on adrenaline, both from the journey and from the sinking enormity of what she’d just done, and so when she reached the final bend to Dwynwen she screamed out loud at the sight of a fallen tree across the road. Her body jolted forward and the seatbelt propelled her back and for a while, she sat catching her breath as the wipers whirred over and over on their fastest setting, which was useless in the rain. The effect made the tree look as if it was melting then rearing, on repeat, and it was scary to think how close she’d been to smashing into it. Was this a sign she should go to Cheshire instead and she’d made a mistake returning here? A physical barrier warning her in no uncertain terms not to do this? Her heart raced at the question. But it was like flipping a coin on a dilemma: it wasn’t either heads or tails telling you what to do, it was what your gut called out for when it was revolving. Now she understood what she wanted: to stay in Dwynwen permanently. But now she’d admitted it, irrational panic set in – what if she couldn’t get back there?
She flicked on her hazard lights and got out to see if there was a way she could clamber over or around the tree, but it was taller than she was and it completely blocked the lane. She gave it a futile push and kicked the bark in frustration, as the heavens opened once more and drenched her in seconds. She was about to get back in the car to work out what to do next when she heard shouting and the whine of a chainsaw.
‘Hello!’ she yelled, cupping her hands around her mouth, jumping to try to be seen.
‘We’re coming! Stay where you are!’ somebody ordered and where there was a slight taper in the trunk, she saw flying sawdust. Thank God! Ceri kept up a commentary of ‘nearly there’ and ‘keep going’ until a jagged slash ran from top to bottom at the left end and the tree inched towards her, beginning to come apart. Within a few minutes, she saw the heave of men with soaked dropped heads driving it forward like a rugby scrum. She spotted Rhodri first and her spirits leapt, then Gwil, Rhodri’s father, Barri, another few she didn’t recognise and English Dick. Mel nipped through the gap in her mac and threw her arms around Ceri.
‘Ceri! We’ve been so worried! Rhodri saw you go, we thought you’d left without saying goodbye!’
‘As if, kid! I’ve still got the keys to the cottage!’
‘Oh, yes! Of course, the storm’s making me think bent.’
‘And … I’m not leaving,’ Ceri said.
‘Not again! You’re
like an actress who wants another bloody encore!’ Mel laughed.
‘It’s the last time, I promise,’ Ceri vowed. ‘I’m staying here … for good.’ Saying the words out loud gave her a thrill – those same words would’ve choked her in February.
‘Never!’ Mel said, dancing, calling to Rhodri, ‘She’s staying! Forever!’
His bulk turned around and Ceri saw a kind of drunk disbelief on his face. She waved madly and he raised a confused hand at her before he was pulled back into the effort of clearing the road.
‘Oh, Ceri, you’ll have to tell me all about it. In the pub because there’s no power anywhere. Usually lasts twelve hours at least. Gwen’s got a gas oven so we’ll be fed and we can light a fire and some candles. We’ll get the radio on so we can listen to the last Six Nations games too – Wales can’t win the whole thing but if Ireland beat France then England come second and that’s as good as a win for us! I’ll start the petition against the development as well, everyone will walk down later, you’ll see, to compare storm damage. Oh, and I almost forgot, my dad has said he’ll put off selling the cabin till the end of summer, I’ve had a reprieve! Coming?’
Sodden, out of a job and in bits at the thought of her first Mothering Sunday without her mum, Ceri couldn’t think of a better way to spend her day.
‘You bloody bet I am,’ she said, feeling finally she belonged somewhere.
Ceri counts her blessings
I’ve made it, Mum, onto the beach. It only took me three weeks. How I managed to avoid it when there’s chuff-all to do here just shows what you can achieve if you put your mind to it. But I’d run out of excuses. And it means I don’t have to see any Mother’s Day lunches or bouquets; that’d hurt too much. I can just sit here and cry and no one will know. I remember your last Mother’s Day. Tash had popped in to see you first thing with a card and choccies but Kev and the kids were taking her out so I went with you to the dementia group afternoon tea. You sang in the choir and it was incredible seeing you and all the other lost souls who could barely talk knowing the words off by heart to the songs of your pasts, as if the music had flicked a switch in your brains. Your face changed too, you looked alive again, especially during ‘Save A Prayer’ by Duran Duran, which was one of your favourites. Perhaps you were reliving the rubbish dance routines Tash and me did to your records, when we’d fight over who was best, and you’d tell us we were both equally ‘triffic’ and give us a standing ovation! And here come more tears … I’ll be glad when today is over. Just when I think I’m adjusting to you being gone, the emptiness comes back. Glass half full, girl, you’d say, so deep breath, I’ll stop my moping and count some blessings.