The Year of Surprising Acts of Kindness

by Laura Kemp

  Over pints in the beer garden, Dwynwen had concluded now it wasn’t Rhodri behind the bunting and the furniture – he was a council worker on council wages and the hand-crafted tables and chairs would’ve cost a fortune, a few grand at least. Seren was now prime suspect because of the quality of the carving but she’d pointed out the delivery driver had come from Mid Wales. So Gwil wondered if it was someone who had ties with the place: perhaps they’d moved away or used to spend their summers here but had heard it was down on its luck? But no, Gwen imagined somebody had bequeathed the bunting and the beer garden with strict instructions to keep it anonymous. All that was left was for Rhodri to ring the number on the invoice, which belonged to a co-operative of carpenters who’d quoted data protection at him. As for Mel, she had come to the conclusion that maybe they should be focusing not on who was behind it but on appreciating it – if they were meant to find out, they would. And the important thing was to use it to fight the housing plan. That was her answer to those asking what she thought. Including a few curious customers who’d read the story. People hadn’t quite flooded into The Dragon and the cabin: it was more of a slow trickle but it was a start. Thank goodness she’d worked her butt off the last few days, and nights, tidying it up. It hadn’t been easy – she’d found it painful to throw broken buckets and curling postcards, ripped sandcastle flags and fraying beach towels because they felt like comrades who’d been with her through thick and mostly thin. But it hadn’t compared to the blitz at home, which was proving much harder. The fifteen-minute bursts seemed eternal, milking her memories afresh, and as soon as she’d cleared one shelf, it would become home to another pile she was supposed to be sorting. Dad had come across it for himself when he’d popped into the Pink House for the mail this morning. By the gulp in his voice, she’d known he’d seen the mess when he’d come here to replace the buzzer over the door with a little brass bell. But he hadn’t added to her shame: he’d spoken around it, praising her efforts here for making it lighter and lovelier than ever before. Something Ceri was seeing for herself now, her eyes on stalks as the tinkle of the new bell announced her arrival.

  ‘Look at this! It’s like Cupid’s love-nest in here! You’ve done an amazing job!’

  ‘I’ve even got love-heart tights on too!’ Mel said, showing a leg from behind the café counter.

  Ceri clapped and twirled around, then mimed a scream when she realised there were actual customers not villagers having elevenses at a table.

  ‘The window! The nets have gone!’ she said, pointing, ‘You can see the sea! And wow … that is beautiful …’

  She was gazing at a hanging heart welded from gleaming metal forks which dangled in front of the glass in a declaration of love for the view.

  ‘Seren made it for me. Isn’t she clever?’

  ‘Totally. It’s all neat in here, there’s no boxes to fall over,’ she laughed, ‘And, oh! Love-heart tablecloths and love-heart fairy lights!’

  ‘Got them off Amazon, cheap as chips! I’ve done some photos too, I managed to nail some driftwood together for frames,’ Mel said, nodding at the pictures overlooking the seating area. There was a close-up of two fern buds which had curled into a heart, her own hands making a heart over sunrise, a huge heart she’d drawn in the sand and a heart-shaped notch in a tree which she’d found in the woods.

  ‘You’re an absolute star. You could sell those prints! Flippin’ ’eck, Mel, it’s such a turnaround,’ Ceri said, pulling out a chair and ordering a brew.

  ‘Couldn’t have done it without you,’ Mel said, switching on the kettle and taking a pew with Ceri. ‘Which is strange because when I first met you I thought you would never last here. No offence!’

  ‘Charming!’ Ceri said.

  Mel laughed, it was so easy to talk like this to her. ‘I can’t imagine you not being here now.’ She squeezed her hand to show she meant it. ‘Any regrets packing it all in to stay here?’

  ‘None. No regrets at all.’ She beamed. ‘Apart from the coffee situation.’

  ‘What do you mean? What’s wrong with my instant?’

  ‘Tastes like piss. No offence,’ she said with an arch of her eyebrow. ‘But don’t you crave a proper one? Ground beans, hot steam, frothy milk – the gleaming stainless-steel theatre of it all?’

  ‘I did look into it once. Posh coffees were just coming onto the high street when I was in Cardiff,’ she said, drifting away for a moment, remembering her first bitter taste of an Americano. ‘But those machines, they cost a few thousand pounds at least.’

  ‘The mark-up on a cup is massive, though. And there’s no competition when you come to the beach. We’ve got the start of a brand here, you’ve got a niche market, there’s so many handy types around who could mend the machine if it went wrong, you could get a loyalty card and a heart-shaped stamp!’

  Mel expected to see a day-dream bubble over Ceri’s head. Instead she had eyes like flint.

  ‘I’m not sure … how do you know this stuff?’ She didn’t like to add ‘when you’re just a barmaid-stroke-beauty-therapist’ but come on, Ceri was hardly one of the Dragons’ Den lot. Ceri opened her mouth to speak, probably to admit as much. Then she clamped it shut, scratched her nose and began again.

  ‘Right, this is a mad idea, and feel free to bum me off because maybe I’m talking out of my rear end. But I’m looking for an investment opportunity. I’ve got money from my mum’s estate. How would you feel if I came in with you on the cabin?’

  How would she feel?

  ‘You’re proper screwy,’ Mel spluttered. ‘Why would you want to risk it?’

  ‘Potential, Melyn, potential.’

  She’d never seen Ceri look so … well, determined.

  ‘How much is this place worth? Thirty-five, forty grand?’

  ‘I’d guess so.’

  ‘We’d get it valued properly. You keep running the place, I’ll share the shifts, no problem, but I’ll handle the marketing. Get the word out. We can get a coffee machine, do up the menu, buy new furniture, revamp the kitchen …’

  ‘Wow!’ It was quite a vision.

  ‘We could even get wifi.’

  ‘No way!’

  ‘I’ve had a look and there are ways to get broadband in remote places. We can get someone in. Every business needs high-speed internet access.’

  ‘But isn’t being cut off part of our charm?’

  ‘Definitely, but there doesn’t have to be a mast on top of the cabin! I just think it’s one of those essentials, whether we like it or not. Whatever, just think of what we could do here. We could sell Seren’s stuff. And if we get really busy we could always hire a Saturday girl … like Ffion.’

  It was too much. Mel looked at her scarlet nails – she felt under siege all of a sudden, as if Ceri was talking about more than the cabin. Mel was trying her best but it was as if it wasn’t enough.

  ‘Maybe,’ she muttered, getting up to make tea and hide behind the counter.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ Ceri said at Mel’s withdrawal. ‘I get over-excited.’

  ‘It’s okay. I know you mean well …’

  ‘But I’m the incomer, I get it.’

  ‘No … it’s just we move slower here than where you’re from. You’ve got to make people think it’s their idea. You can’t rush us.’

  Ceri held up her hands. ‘Absolutely. My mum always said I took after my dad, he was a dynamo when it came to work.’

  ‘Better that than the other. Mine, the biological one, was a dynamo at shirking,’ Mel said, matter-of-factly. ‘Oh, don’t give me those eyes. I’m not sad about it. I’ve the best dad in the world.’

  ‘What do you think he’d say, if I went halves?’

  ‘I could ask him, I suppose,’ Mel said, handing over Ceri’s cuppa. ‘I’m not sure if he’ll take you up on it because he’s stubborn, he is, but … he did do something sort of unexpected when
he took me on.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘My mam, she got pregnant with me with this other bloke. Thirty years ago, it was a big deal. When she told him, he didn’t want to know. So she was there by herself and she hooked up with Lyn, my dad. They’d known each other since school, very close because they’d grown up together. He was a good listener, they talked a lot; her father wanted to kick her out. Dad married her just before I was born, so Mam wouldn’t be on her own.’

  ‘Incredible,’ Ceri said.

  ‘Yes, very. He gave up his own hopes and dreams for me. But over the years, duty sort of suffocated them. It kept them together too long. I don’t blame Mam for leaving him, although I used to. I think it’s why I fell so deeply for Al. I grew up seeing my parents not in love but in a kind of arrangement, like it was normal. So when I met Al and all of the fireworks went off, it was as if I was the first person in the world to fall in love.’ Her hand trembled so she shoved it in her skirt pocket.

  ‘How lovely. For me, I always knew this great love of your life existed because my mum had it with my dad. But I’ve never had it myself. Work’s been my other half. Family, too. Although it feels now I haven’t got any at all anymore. My sister, she’s gone distant on me since Mum died. I haven’t even bothered to tell her I’m staying on here.’

  It was funny how they had things in common, when they were from different galaxies. Ceri’s eyes, though, they felt familiar.

  ‘Why don’t you invite her to see it for herself? You’ve got the cottage for as long as you want it.’

  ‘Tash doesn’t understand why I came here in the first place. She’d be crying because there’s no twenty-four-hour Tesco up the road. And if I told her I was thinking about buying somewhere here …’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah. I’m serious about staying here. My mum, it’d be like she wasn’t gone.’ Ceri’s chin quivered, which made Mel ache.

  ‘It’s okay, it is. I was the same with my first guinea pig, Eluned. Couldn’t mention her for years without bawling. I do understand.’

  Ceri smiled. ‘Well, if you can cope with that,’ she said, taking a deep breath. ‘Her name … it was … Angharad. Although everyone called her Ange. Being in Crewe, we only lived, what, a stone’s throw from Wales, but it was a different world to us. She never spoke about Dwynwen. I s’pose she’d left it behind. I wish I knew where she’d lived, which house.’

  ‘Maybe ask Barri? He’s Dwynwen through and through.’

  ‘Yeah, I could, I suppose. But it was forty-plus years ago. I wouldn’t expect him to know.’

  It was a polite way of putting it that Barri’s brain cells had been shot to smithereens by the booze.

  ‘At least you found us,’ Mel said, patting her heart.

  ‘That’s very true, kid,’ Ceri said. ‘It does feel right here. For the first time in … well, forever … I’m content. I haven’t stopped for years, it’s always been nose to the grindstone, but it’s like I’ve raised my head to actually appreciate what’s around me. And Dwynwen, it’s made me richer than any bank account could. I don’t need anything over and above the necessities here – apart from a proper coffee – and I feel so at home, because I feel so myself. And it’s been a surprise because I never knew this was who I was. I just have such a good feeling about staying here. Like I’ll get to share in happiness.’

  This new friend of hers was so often upbeat and funny, Mel forgot that underneath it all she was an orphan. Adrift in the world, she was, no wonder she wanted to put down her anchor. It convinced her to approach her father to see if she could find some meaning for Ceri.

  ‘No promises,’ Mel said, reaching out and taking Ceri’s hand. ‘But let me talk to Dad about the investment idea.’

  19

  Bobbing around on the serene sea, Ceri could almost forget Logan had been subjected to a face-full of her arse as she’d clambered into her kayak.

  It wouldn’t have been so bad had she not been taken out seconds before by a shocking, freezing wave which had left her choking on salt water, putting paid to what little confidence she’d had. And so she’d half-heartedly launched herself into the slippery wobbly length of plastic, knowing the moment she’d thrown herself on she was going to slide off. Logan had grabbed at whatever he could of her body to heave her in – which happened to be her backside. In an unforgivingly tight wetsuit, which she’d borrowed from Logan’s surf school collection in his lock-up on the beach. Probably in size Huge Camel Toe.

  ‘Just like a seal,’ he’d teased, expertly mounting his kayak without a splash. Squinting into the sunshine, she’d checked him for gills, he was so effortless.

  ‘It’d be easier to stand up on a bouncy castle after a skinful,’ she’d muttered, mortified at having shown herself up. Her soaking corkscrewed hair deposited stinging sodium onto her face, her feet had gone blue and one of her ears was blocked. It wasn’t quite how she’d imagined this lazy Sunday to go. ‘You said it was like bathwater today.’

  ‘It is!’

  ‘Since when did anyone have a wash in water this cold?’ She shivered in spite of the full-watt sun. March had become April, but though it was bright and springlike it was still too early for real warmth.

  ‘Let’s get moving.’

  A series of instructions followed as she fought to keep herself straight with an oar which had a mind of its own. ‘Strong arms!’ and ‘left, left!’ then ‘right! Go right to stop yourself going in circles.’

  Eventually, when she’d got used to the bulk of her life jacket and past the rise and dip of the water as she moved away from the shore, she got into a rhythm of one-two, one-two.

  When he’d shouted, ‘You’ve got it!’ she began to trust she wouldn’t capsize. She’d looked up around her and a new sense of panic kicked in – they were what felt like miles out. The cabin and pub were dots in the distance and they were in very deep water. What the hell lurked beneath? She shot a nervous glance over the side and switched her gaze back to her sodden lap. What had she been thinking, coming out here? She wouldn’t be happy until she was back on land.

  ‘Jesus Christ! I’m not going any further out, Logan, I’ll tell you that for free!’ she’d said, past caring she was freaking out in the company of the prince of hotness.

  ‘Relax. We’ll head parallel to the coast now, to the waterfall. It’s worth it. Trust me.’

  ‘Oh, great. There’s only rocks and shit to crash into.’

  ‘We won’t go near them, don’t worry.’ He’d reached out a hand and brought her kayak to his so they bumped. Like kissing lips. ‘And I used to be a lifeguard, so if anything happens I’ll save you, all right?’

  Ceri felt the surge of gratitude that came when you felt helpless. She hadn’t experienced that in a long time. She’d been trained to fix things herself, to be the saviour of her own soul, learned from Mum who’d had two kids on her tod. Dave the ex had helped out if things needed doing around the house but she’d never relied on him. Self-sufficiency was king. No, it was queen. So she was appalled at herself when she felt her chest swell against the compression of her wettie as if it was heaving within a straining bodice. It had taken just a blip of vulnerability to turn her into a simpering maiden. Yet how could she be anything else when she felt so incapable and the man alongside her remained bone dry in the middle of the sea?

  ‘If you want to go back at any point, just say, okay?’ he said, his hand brushing hers, ‘You’re doing really well but I don’t want you to be scared.’

  Oh God, he had empathy and insight too. Emotional intelligence. Something she’d never discovered in Dave, who’d had the sensitivity of a dustbin. If she had to be rescued by anyone Logan would do very nicely.

  So on they went, the repetitive action of the paddle settling her down, and she started to breathe more easily as they crossed the bay until she looked up and saw the majesty of the waterfall.
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  This was where she was now, stunned by its awesome power: the spill of the stream she’d seen in the woods, at the crest between the trees, hurtling down over the cliff edge, splashing against the sheer rock face and spraying out white as it hit the sand. And it went on and on for eternity. It would have been here when Mum was a girl and it would be here forever … like love.

  ‘Can you get to that bit of the beach by the waterfall? On foot?’ she asked.

  ‘At low tide, yes. But not many know you can. It’s an insider’s secret.’

  She nodded, knowing she’d found the spot to scatter Mum. She didn’t want to do it but she was beginning to understand that life went on. Just like the waterfall.

  Mum’s request to be laid to rest here hadn’t made sense to Ceri. How could it when it was made in a meandering mumble three days before she’d died? Yet Ceri had wanted to honour it no matter what. Tash suggesting the garden as her final resting place had hurt her very much: it was as if her sister had wanted to do it out of convenience. And where was the meaning in it when the house was going to be sold?

  No, it had to be done here. Even though Ceri now understood there wasn’t some deeper reason hidden behind the request. She’d wondered if it had surfaced when Mum would think she was in the past as plain as day, telling Ceri to get ready for school and not to forget her lunchbox. Those conversations, though, had been fleeting: the reality was that Mum spoke rubbish more than sense. Perhaps she had remembered this place because it was jumbled up in her mind with the memory of Ceri’s father who’d died at sea. In her grief, Ceri had searched for meaning. Yet watching the torrent of water seemingly on endless repeat, she didn’t feel as wretched. What did people say? It is what it is. Don’t analyse, just accept. The kayak seemed to agree with her in its gentle sway.

  It was a breakthrough: she couldn’t ask her mother what it had all been about, if it had been about anything. What she would do instead was reunite her parents in the sea. At the least it was a lovely notion and could be a step towards closure. Take what she could from this experience. Checking out of her old life had given her wealth of a different kind: genuine people pulling together who shared a passion for their surroundings. In other words, things she couldn’t have bought for money. The realisation gave her a sudden sense of purpose: she had to make the most of it here … starting right now this very second.