The Year of Surprising Acts of Kindness

by Laura Kemp

  She hugged the package, deciding she may as well get him to spread the word on his rounds. ‘Just the pub, if you or anyone else fancies it? Maybe ask on your shift?’

  ‘Cool,’ he said, looking pleased. ‘I’ll see you there, around seven, maybe?’

  ‘Perfect,’ she said, closing the door, returning upstairs and examining the brown cardboard box in her hands. She knew exactly what was inside: it was as if fate had decreed its arrival on her last day in Dwynwen. It would come in handy for when she was gone, she sighed. She went upstairs and made a brew, fearful of what would come her way when she told everyone the truth. Perhaps she’d even be gone by tonight – Mel might ask her to leave. The meaningful ceremony she’d planned for Mum’s ashes wouldn’t take place: it’d be scatter and go.

  Maybe in the circumstances, after her mother’s lies, it was for the best. She was as bad as her, after all, wasn’t she? Escapism was really just a form of dishonesty. That’s why, deep down, she could never have told Rhodri how she felt about him: if there’d ever been a chance, and she was sure there never had been one, he could never have trusted her. Her dream of a new venture here, her bid to buy the Green House, was gone. The label on the parcel briefly blurred as she saw it through tears. Then she sat up, gasping as the realisation hit her. It was obvious. It’d been obvious all along. She knew who had tipped off the papers.

  32

  ‘To Rhodri

  For when you’re away, so you’ll never miss a sunset,

  From the Village of Love’

  Rhodri was just getting to the really incredible part of his story about the future trend of turning human waste into biodegradable plastic when he heard the ting, ting, ting of metal on glass.

  ‘This better be good,’ he said, annoyed to be cut short especially when Mel had been so interested, apart from when she kept dropping this Carlos from Cardiff into the conversation. She was absolutely besotted – and by the sounds of it, he was too, having rung her three times at the cabin today already. Rhodri was very happy for her: it would make leaving less sad if he knew she was in a good place. And it was coming sooner now that he’d decided he’d take some holiday to explore Sweden before he started his sabbatical. There was nothing left here for him to do: the forest was saved, he was back on good terms with Dad, Dwynwen was jam-packed with tourists and short of going out on a boat to tempt the dolphins back into the bay, he’d done what he could. Ceri had made it quite clear she thought he was a geek when she hadn’t come back to his pizza night: that had been as much as he’d seen her alone in weeks. Logan would, inevitably, get the girl. He didn’t want to be around when Ceri fell into his arms. The thought sat like a turd in constipated bowels. It would be better all round once he disappeared: he was almost looking forward to getting on the plane and worrying about offsetting his flight emissions rather than enduring this heartbreak.

  ‘It’s Ceri! She’s by the bar!’ Mel said, waving and smiling at her from their seat on the pub banquette. ‘I haven’t seen her since Friday! I mean, we only live together!’

  ‘How come?’ He couldn’t help but stop and stare. But this wasn’t the Ceri he knew. She hadn’t returned Mel’s hello – instead she was staring around seemingly everywhere but at nobody with a strange look on her face. Troubled and pained, but of course still beautiful with it. Each time he saw her now, even if it was just through the cabin window, he felt it even harder – to know he was going made these moments more precious.

  ‘She was in bed when I got back yesterday and she was up and out before me this morning. I’ve been working all day, see. I’m dying to tell her about Cardiff. And Carlos. I wonder what she’s got to say?’

  ‘Thanks, everyone,’ Ceri said to an unusually quiet bar. The heatwave was over and a cold wind was blowing in, keeping the tourists inside their cottages, caravans and tents. He saw her chin wobble as she drew breath and his arms ached to lift her face to his, to put them around her and tell her he’d make everything all right. What on earth could it be? Mel gave him a concerned look, she had noticed the change in her too.

  ‘I just wanted to say a few words … a thank you, really. For everything.’

  What? This sounded as if she was going somewhere. He waited for her to crack the punchline. Any minute now, she’d stick on her smile and put on her jazz hands. But no, Ceri was still downcast and now she was searching for someone … then she locked her eyes on Rhodri and began.

  ‘I came here without knowing a soul … I turned up alone, miserable and cynical. I was a stranger. But you took me in and your kindness has changed me. You taught me happiness, you made me trust again when the last few years have been so isolating. I’d come from a place which had once felt like home but became a cage. I didn’t belong there anymore and I so needed to belong somewhere. You gave me that.’

  The pub swelled with emotion, while Rhodri wondered why the hell she was directing this at him.

  ‘But there’s something you need to know … and I’m deeply ashamed I haven’t told you before …’

  Rhodri felt the mood shift as people swapped quizzical looks. Ceri looked up to the ceiling and swallowed.

  ‘There’s a story coming out in the papers tomorrow … about me, who I am. And I wanted you to know beforehand …’

  The hairs on his neck stood up as she focused on him once more.

  ‘My name, it isn’t Ceri Rees …’

  His jaw flopped down.

  ‘… It’s Ceri Price. I’m not a barmaid, well I used to be, but a few years ago. I’m a businesswoman. I’m what they call a YouTuber … I have two million subscribers, people who watch my videos about my life and my work, so I’m quite well known.’

  Somebody let off a low descending whistle and Mel let out a squeak.

  ‘I have my own line of make-up which you can buy on the High Street.’

  ‘I’ve got some,’ Mel whispered. ‘I had no idea.’

  There was a clatter – a can had fallen to the floor out of Gwen’s rigid hand.

  ‘I’m what you’d call not short of a bob or two …’ Ceri put her hand over her mouth to catch a sob. ‘It was me behind the bunting and the pub garden and the paint and the sign. I was the one who sent all of the gifts to the Village of Love.’

  Suddenly noise broke out as the locals digested her revelations. Not who she said she was! She’s loaded! And famous! The older folk wanted to know what this YouTube thing was. Rhodri felt a bubble of anger in the pit of his stomach become a fireball of fury at her deceit, at all their heart-to-hearts, when she could’ve told him. Why hadn’t she confided in him?

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, louder, trying to be heard above the clamour. ‘I never meant to cause any trouble. I just wanted to repay your kindness. To do good in my mother’s memory.’

  A few accusations of ‘You had no right!’ and ‘Taken us for a ride’ flew into the air. She had money and fame – and they were judging her on it rather than the person they knew … Rhodri realised remorsefully, himself included.

  ‘There’s no excuse for my lies. I never said I was Ceri Rees. I was misheard and I was only going to stay a week … but I started to love it here and I can only say I got carried away. I’ll be out of here first thing, you’ll never have to see me again.’

  ‘You’re only telling us because you’ve been found out. You’re just sorry you’ve been caught!’ shouted Barri.

  ‘Leave off, Barri, you can see she’s having a melt-down,’ Seren said.

  ‘There was a tip-off … that I was here. I know who it was but I won’t say who. There’s no good in that.’

  A fist went down on the bar and all eyes were on Gwil, who was turning puce. Oh Christ, the vein on his bald head was throbbing – he was going to blow his top.

  ‘Right,’ he yelled. ‘I’ve had enough.’

  Tears clung to Ceri’s lower lashes and she nodded. ‘Of course, I’ll just get my thi
ngs.’

  ‘No you won’t,’ he said to her calmly. Then he resumed his ire. ‘I couldn’t care less if she’s Ceri Rees or Ceri bastard Price. She’s a damn fine barmaid. And look what she’s done for this village too. All I care about is who grassed her up?’ He flipped the bar partition and strode out. ‘I want to know who’s turned in one of us. Who’s the Judas? Show yourself.’

  He glared around the room and people, Rhodri included, began to look at others for signs of guilt. And bloody hell, he saw a look which took him right back – and instantly he knew who the double-crosser was. His outrage had found its proper target: Ceri hadn’t gone out of her way to hurt anyone. He stared at Ceri for confirmation and she dropped her head, nodding gently.

  Rhodri cleared his throat. ‘Is it you, Logan?’

  The pub gasped in horror as Logan denied it with raised palms and a shake of his head.

  ‘Oh, come off it, Logan. You got a healthy sum, did you, for letting on who she was? That’s what it’s about. Money. Right?’

  Logan clenched his teeth.

  ‘Because he’s got form, ladies and gentlemen, and that’s why we fell out.’

  The crowd leaned in closer. It was as if they knew he had reached his limit – he would protect Logan no more.

  ‘He copped off with my Ruth’s friend, who came down on a visit with her, just before we split up. Her mate lost her wallet on the Friday night. Had two hundred quid in it for the weekend. We searched everywhere but it never turned up. After, Ruth asked me if it could’ve been Logan. I said, “Oh no! he’s my buddy,” I stood up for him because I couldn’t believe bad types lived in Dwynwen. A few days later, I was getting a lift with him and there in the glove compartment, when I was looking for a pen, I saw it – her wallet. He’d nicked it and then shagged her the Saturday night. He said he’d found it empty on the beach. Yet he was the proud owner of a new surfboard.’ Rhodri felt the disgust anew. ‘The thing was, because I chose to believe he was innocent, when I said people didn’t steal things in Dwynwen, it made Ruth think I was one-eyed and parochial. I loved Wales more than the truth. She finished it soon after.’

  Logan had inched his way closer to the door, more or less conceding the game was up.

  ‘Oh my God,’ Gwen said. ‘My sister said she’d sent me a tenner in a birthday card last year and I thought she was being a tight-arse because it had disappeared when it arrived.’

  ‘And he owes me for a bacon sandwich from last year! He’s wicked, he is!’ Mel cried. ‘But I don’t understand how he knew who you were, Ceri, because I should’ve known out of anyone, being into make-up.’

  ‘Because I had post delivered to the cottage in my real name, work stuff and then invoices from the purchase of the gifts, plus a delivery yesterday, another act of kindness,’ Ceri said. ‘He wasn’t friendly to me at first, but then he must’ve googled the name and realised … because overnight he changed. All so he could get a sniff of the money.’

  Gwil jabbed the air with his forefinger. ‘Anything to say for yourself, Logan?’

  ‘She called this place a hole,’ he said, trying to get people on his side, ‘like she was better than us. Turning up here, saving the poor little village from itself, all so she could be the big saviour, the big—’

  ‘GET OUT OF MY PUB!’ Gwil roared.

  Logan puffed up his chest then thought better of it and dashed out like the coward he was. Applause rang out as the door crashed shut. Everyone fell on Ceri, who was apologising through her tears. Finally, she broke free and went straight to Rhodri.

  ‘I’m so sorry, really, truly.’ She meant it, he knew, and she knew he knew. And he knew she knew he didn’t care who she was. But he didn’t know how to say it without confusing himself any more.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell us?’ he asked.

  ‘Because I thought you’d treat me differently, like everyone did at home when I started making money. I didn’t want it to be about me. And I’d lose all of you, you wonderful lot … and this is what I had delivered yesterday, when I clocked it was Logan. It’s for you …’ she said, finding her bag and pulling out a box.

  ‘Me?’ He pulled open the cardboard flaps.

  ‘I see why you had your issues with Logan. I doubted you. I’m sorry.’

  But he didn’t care, he’d said his piece. He was too busy with this present.

  ‘A webcam!’ he said. ‘With full HD image, wide screen option, swivel head, day-night recognition, optical zoom, stereo audio and check out the pixels! It’s awesome. But why?’

  ‘So anyone who leaves will always be able to see the sunset.’

  He was about to blub like a boy, so thank goodness for Seren and Mel bouncing up.

  ‘Do you know, I had a phone call today from someone asking if there was a Geri Spice working at the pub and I slammed it down on them thinking it was a crank caller,’ Mel said. ‘It must’ve been a reporter asking about Ceri Price! To think I could’ve stitched you up myself without even realising. And what about spare make-up, have you got any?’

  Ceri answered with the biggest most grateful grin ever seen in Dwynwen.

  ‘I don’t know why you’re looking so pleased with yourself,’ Seren said, pulling all four of them into a group hug. ‘You’re done for now! We’ll never let you escape!’

  Caught up in the safety of numbers with Ceri’s skin on his, Rhodri wanted to tell her how he felt, no longer caring how he would come across. As much as he tried, he couldn’t hold it in anymore.

  ‘I will love you forever,’ he said, ‘if you can sort out super-speed broadband for the webcam.’

  33

  ‘Jesus, it would’ve been easier to find Victoria Beckham’s smile,’ Tash said, hands on hips, at the door of the Pink House. ‘Or Boris Johnson’s hairbrush … or … or … Donald Trump’s brain. What is this place? Atlantis?’

  ‘What the flip are you doing here?’ Ceri said, agog at her sister standing before her in Dwynwen. ‘How did you find me?’

  ‘I asked Lord Lucan on the way … he said this place was too remote even for him.’ Her blue eyes were icy, ready for a fight. Ceri was immediately on the back foot at this unannounced visit. Which was probably the best way to be, seeing as Tash was bristling like a broom, ready to wipe the floor with her.

  ‘You got here, though, eh?’ It had sounded snide. Ceri was annoyed at herself for taking part in this spiky sparring contest. Tash would’ve been working herself up for hours on the drive. But it was impossible to stop herself sliding back into how it had always been.

  ‘Oh, aye, eventually.’ Tash crossed her arms, she wasn’t finished yet.

  ‘A good morning, how are you, sorry I didn’t ring would’ve been nice,’ Ceri said frostily.

  ‘Er, pot. Kettle. Black.’ Tash’s booted foot was tapping ominously – she was revving up, ready to give her what for.

  ‘Go on then,’ Ceri said, presenting her chin, ‘say what you have to say.’ They could’ve been fifteen again, having a row about a missing body spray or an undeclared borrow of one another’s clothes.

  ‘I’ve been worried sick,’ Tash seethed through her teeth. ‘Jade rang me yesterday, I thought you were coming home last night. But you didn’t show, you didn’t even call. So I had to come and get you myself. Kev had to take the day off, unpaid, to look after the kids. And I left at five-thirty this morning thinking I could do a smash and grab and be home for the girls’ bath. Fat chance of that now.’

  ‘I didn’t ask you to come!’ Ceri regretted it instantly – she should’ve been pouring oil on troubled water, not setting light to petrol.

  ‘Oh, I apologise.’ Curdling with sarcasm, Tash was about to lob a grenade. ‘Have you got something else on? Like a shower because you look like you need one.’ Ceri got the full eyeing up and down of her dressing gown and messy ponytail.

  Boom. The pair of them glowered at each other with bomb-bl
ast faces. It took a minute for them to cool off, for their breathing to return to normal. They were at the bottom of a pit and they were going to have to help one another back up because this was no good. They had an awful lot to talk about, big stuff, so Ceri gave in first. She remembered the shock of arriving here when you were already spent from the mammoth journey.

  ‘You must be gasping.’ Ceri’s voice was low and quiet as she looked at her from beneath her eyelashes. ‘Fancy a brew?’

  ‘I’ve brought Eccles cakes,’ Tash said meekly. ‘The dead flaky ones you like.’

  Ceri’s absolute favourite treat in the world which beat Welshcakes hands down. It was the equivalent of a white flag, that. She stepped aside, calling a truce.

  ‘Oh, come here, you,’ she said, embracing her baby-blonde baby sister, whose stiff arms began to give way as the tension melted. How could they go from nought to sixty and back again in such a short time? How could they still be doing it at their age when they wouldn’t dream of treating anyone else like that? Because they were family: only they could infuriate you, dig up such raw emotion then forgive you. ‘I’m sorry I worried you.’

  ‘I’m sorry too, for having a go.’

  They rubbed each other’s backs, Ceri feeling Tash’s skinny-from-rushing-around-too-much frame, breathing in her trademark lily fabric conditioner, their heads resting on the other’s shoulder before it was declared tea-time.

  ‘So this is where you’ve been hiding,’ Tash said from the sofa, unwrapping the pastries, when Ceri came in from the kitchen with two steaming mugs. ‘That view’s a bit different from Mum’s, of Mrs Parkinson twitching her nets. Although it’d bring on vertigo if I saw that sea every day. You must like it to have been here so long.’

  ‘It took a while to get used to but I wouldn’t go back to my flat. Not for all the Eccles cakes in Crewe. Talking of which, pass me one.’

  ‘Do you know, you sound a bit Welsh,’ Tash laughed, doing the honours.