by Laura Kemp
‘Give over! You make me out to be like Cally Stevens from school. Remember when she went to Australia for a fortnight to see her cousins and she came back as if she was on Home and Away?’ This was the banter she loved with her sister. It was as if they’d never fallen out in their lives.
‘Ha! Yeah, sad cow. I hated her. She used to say horrible things about my dad. Probably all true, they were. But that wasn’t the point.’ Tash had a slurp and Ceri took a bite of cake. She shut her eyes blissfully, tasting plump raisins, buttery pastry and big grains of sugar.
‘Is it true then … about your dad? Jade told me.’
Ceri’s moment in heaven was cut short. ‘Yep,’ she said through a mouthful. Amid all the excitement last night when she was forgiven, she’d managed to put this drama in a sealed box, ready to open another time.
‘And the bar job?’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘And the surname thing? And the Village of Love?’
Ceri nodded, letting a smile come because it did sound ludicrous. Especially when Tash put it so bluntly.
‘I told everyone last night, I really thought they were going to chase me out of the village. But I underestimated them – once they’d got over the shock, they were so nice. You didn’t see if I was in the paper on your way down, did you?’ Ceri asked.
‘Strangely, I didn’t fancy checking if my sister’s breakdown made it into the news,’ Tash said, dunking her cake into her tea. She liked to suck on hers for some revolting reason. ‘Christ, you’ve never done things by halves. God, what was Mum thinking? Telling you he was Spanish? I used to envy that as well with mine coming from Scunthorpe. All that wasted jealousy.’
‘To make me feel safe, I suppose. I wish she hadn’t, I’ve spent my life feeling guilty because I can’t do the flamenco.’
Tash laughed, and their woes seemed to diminish when they got on like this.
‘Have you met him yet?’
‘No. Only in passing. I think … I think we’ve got a sister too.’
‘You have.’
‘No. We have. This is her place. She doesn’t know yet. I only just found out.’
‘Ruddy hell, like. What are you going to do?’
‘God knows. Because I can’t look her in the eye knowing what I know. But then what if this bloke doesn’t want to know? I’m of a mind to say nothing. What would you do?’
Tash raised her eyebrows. ‘Don’t ask me. I’m not getting involved, Ceri. How can I? We, you and me, we haven’t been involved since you left.’
Like that, the tone of her voice had become serious. The elephant in the room was flapping his ears.
‘The reception is shit here. I’ve tried to ring. Plus I’ve been working evenings. You’re never free in the day …’ It was so lame, Ceri thought, ashamed.
‘I didn’t realise you were running off to join the flaming circus! I thought it’d be a week tops. I got on with things, I had no idea you were going to have some sort of religious moment and jack it all in. It feels like you deserted me.’ There was no malice in her words: they were plain-talking which at least meant they could heal their rift.
‘I felt like you didn’t want anything to do with Mum. You couldn’t wait to get shot of the house. You didn’t even tell me it was sold, I heard it from Jade. And I know—’
‘You said to deal with it! So I did!’
‘I was about to admit that before you jumped in! Let me explain. I just felt it was the last bond we had, that’s all. That you didn’t need me. That you were sorted. I felt worthless.’
‘Those noughts in the bank were real enough.’
‘But they’re not much company. That’s what I found here. That’s why I love it.’
‘You’re not staying? I thought you were joking earlier. You, with all your Instagram and Facebook stuff, always on the phone. How can you like it here when it’s nineteen-bleeding-fifty?’
Ceri laughed. She’d had the same first impressions.
‘People talk here, face to face. They’ve time for you. You go to the pub and no one’s checking for likes or retweets.’
‘It sounds like a retirement home to me.’ Her grimace was over-egged, she wasn’t being mean.
‘It’s the people. They’re my friends. Mel, our sister, she’s gorgeous. Seren, who’s sparky as anything. Gwen and Gwil, the landlords, so kind. And Rhodri.’
‘Oh, I get it! It’s a man, is it?’ Tash rubbed her hands.
‘No! I’m steering clear. Mrs Unlucky In Love got conned by the surfboard instructor. I know – what a cliché.’
‘What about this Rhodri? Because your eyes went all Lady Diana when you said his name.’
‘They did not!’ Ceri tried to protest. But Tash had always managed to call her out. ‘He’s just a friend, unfortunately. We’re from different planets. He’s into saving the earth, he’s passionate about where he comes from. He’s kind, grounded, solid, funny, caring, handsome.’
‘He sounds bloody awful.’ Tash rolled her eyes.
‘Yeah, well, there’s no point. He’s off to Sweden. He won’t come back.’ As she said it, her tummy lurched because she couldn’t imagine Dwynwen without him.
‘Closest Ikea to here, is it? Or has he got a thing about meatballs?’
Ceri couldn’t help but laugh.
‘He’s got a job lined up. It’s a great opportunity for him. I’m going to miss him so much. He’s been really good to me.’
Tash still wasn’t buying it – she’d have to introduce them, so she could see how unsuited they were.
‘What’s he look like?’
‘Six foot-odd, wide as a bus, in good shape.’ Very good shape … oh shut up, she told herself. ‘Big brown eyes, messy hair, freckles, smiley.’
‘My God, what’s wrong with you? Why haven’t you told him how you feel?’
‘Because he’s leaving!’ Ceri said firmly, to stop her going any further.
‘Don’t they all, cock,’ she tutted, referring to her deadbeat dad.
‘Yeah. That’s another reason why I don’t want to know any more about my father. If he walked away from Mum, left her with a kid. It’ll make it all worse.’
‘Maybe that’s why she tried to make it right, marrying my dad?’
‘I feel really sad she made up the story about Emilio. Like she thought she’d failed and she wanted me to think I’d been born out of love rather than a screw with a bastard from Wales.’
‘She was only ever human, Ceri. Not super-human. Look, I’ve been thinking about her house and we exchange on Friday. But if you really wanted to keep it, we don’t have to sell. We could rent it.’
‘Would you do that?’ Ceri said, so very touched by her offer.
‘Yeah. Kev and me, we’ll find another house. It was lovely, though. A new-build place, with a garden and a garage. Neat and tidy, no graffiti, close to a good school. But we could see it as an investment, run it between us, Kev could do repairs if and when and you could look after the accounts …’ She was thinking aloud now, trying to work it out. This was her all over – practical and hurdling emotion until it caught up with her. There was no way Ceri was going to let her down again.
‘Not a chance. Sell it.’
‘Yeah?’
Ceri took her keys from the coffee table and wound off the one for Junction Road, giving it to Tash to show she meant it. ‘Mum’s here with me now. And while I’m at it, here’s the one for the car in Alderley Edge. Kev can have it as a thank you for sorting out Mum’s house.’
‘You can’t give him your flash wagon!’
‘I can. It’s not me anymore. He can sell it or whatever. What do I need a nippy thing for when I spend most of my time behind a tractor? I’m happy with Mum’s Fiesta.’
Tash’s hand curled and uncurled round the keys as if she was checking they were real. ‘Thanks, Ceri. Th
at’s really thoughtful. Kev will be made up.’
‘My pleasure. Now, while you’re here, shall we go and scatter Mum?’
‘Haven’t you done that already? And there’s me been weeping thinking I’d missed it. Funny, though, she’s everywhere at home. In the park where I take the kids, where she took us. The bingo hall. The pound shop. I find myself crying sometimes when I’m getting bin bags.’
Of course she cried. How could Ceri have thought she was over Mum? She had a lot of making up to do.
‘Will you stay tonight with me?’ Ceri wanted nothing more than to spend some time with Tash. ‘We can twosies the bed.’
‘As long as you don’t kick me like you used to when we were little.’
Ceri giggled at the memory when they were forced to share because Mum had given up her room for a guest and she’d slept in with them. ‘Cheek! It was you who took up the room!’
She licked her finger and ran it over the pastry crumbs before she got up and pulled her sister to her feet.
‘Come on, let’s go to the beach.’
‘All right, you’re on.’ Tash grinned and they went downstairs for Ceri to get dressed and pick up the tea caddy and their mother’s letter from her room. ‘By the way,’ Tash said, as Ceri held open the front door for her, ‘you’ve got real colour in your cheeks from living here. It suits you.’
Ceri put her arm through her sister’s and they started off for the bay.
‘I’ll have to get a carrier pigeon to let Kev know I’m staying over.’
‘Oh, there’s no need for that,’ Ceri said, laughing, ‘I’ll do some smoke signals. Or spell it out on the sand with sticks. The police helicopter will see it – it’s always on the lookout for people who want rescuing from this asylum.’
34
The beach was as bare as a bed with the blanket pulled back to give it an airing.
It was low tide and the dimpled sheet of sand stretched out in all directions but the waterfall was calling out to Ceri. If anything was going to make Tash understand the draw of Dwynwen, that would be it.
Away from the few holidaymakers who were all-weather beach devotees, they walked towards the rocks to do what she’d come here for six months ago, but had put off for so long. There was no telling where the sea met the sky: they merged as one in a starchy overclouded whiteness Mum would’ve approved of. Ceri found a spot where the stream from the waterfall met lazy lapping waves; here, her mother could make her last journey. They parked their backsides on a shelf of barnacled black stone and leaned over to place the caddy on the sand, deciding against an elaborate ceremony. There had been too much emotion recently: Ceri was drained of energy. Tash sensed it and her chit-chat dropped away like the clifftops themselves. Having confessed her secrets last night, there was no rush. How different it could’ve been: had she hot-footed it out of here before anyone realised what she had done, who she really was, she would never have been able to return and wouldn’t be able to stay here forever as she planned.
At least now she could do this without looking over her shoulder in fear and slip away. Because she’d decided she wouldn’t put Mel or the village through any more drama. She’d be robbing a friend of her security. She could deal with having an errant father, just as Tash had. There were other, more important concerns now: what she would do next in her working life. She had enough in the bank to keep her going until she decided. In the meantime, she would give Jade Cheap As Chic, sell her flat, stay on at the pub and devote herself to the Green House. The only thing remaining was to read her mother’s letter. She took the envelope out of her hoodie pocket and held it, studying the solicitor’s neat handwriting: On the occasion of scattering the remains of Ms Angharad Bronwen Price.
Tash squeezed her arm and Ceri took a breath.
‘I’m not sure I want to know what’s inside,’ she said. ‘It could be anything. A poem or an explanation or—’
‘A shopping list even. She wasn’t right when she wrote it,’ Tash agreed.
‘Maybe she just brought me here to find out about my father. She couldn’t bring herself to tell me. Then leave it up to me whether to find him?’
A wet nose dabbed her hand and she let the very waggy dog snuffle in her palm.
‘Hello there,’ she said, stroking his head, turning to his owner, who was approaching slowly with a slight limp from the shore on her left. The envelope flickered between her fingers in the breeze and she imagined herself lightening her grip until it was taken from her to fly away.
‘This was her favourite part of the beach,’ the man said, resting on a boulder several feet from her, staring out to sea. His face was weathered with deep lines as if he was made from the rocks himself. Thick silver hair and gnarled hands, and when he turned to her, she saw her own eyes. He was as far away from a bastard as could be. And she wasn’t recoiling from him as she’d thought she would. She felt still and calm, as if this was meant to be.
‘Angharad would spend hours making a dam of sand and stones to divert the stream, hoping it would be there the next day,’ he said, getting comfy. ‘That was her. Determined, hard-working, full of fight, she was. Not like me, laid-back, happy to just be.’
‘She said I took after you.’ It had all been part of her mother’s fairytale. ‘She said you were Emilio.’
‘It was her secret name for me because of my tan.’ His wrinkles creased at the memory.
Tash finally grasped who it was. ‘I’ll go if you want some privacy.’
‘No,’ Ceri said. ‘She was your mum too. You need to hear this.’ And then to Emlyn, ‘This is Tash, my sister. Whatever there is you have to say, she can hear it too.’
Emlyn nodded and then he let out a small guttural noise and sniffed with emotion. ‘Goodness, you look like Angharad, Tash.’
He cleared his throat and continued. ‘She’d say the sun only came out to kiss me. That was as close as we got before she left. She said she’d only kiss me if we were married. Her father, your grandfather, was a hard man, got the stick out.’
‘She never talked about him,’ Ceri said.
‘He wasn’t worth talking about,’ he said, shaking his head and turning down the corners of his mouth.
‘But we kept in touch, writing silly love letters. For ten years, although they faded off as we did our own thing. In 1986, July time, her mother died and Angharad came here, turned up blaming her father for her death, the stress of him knocking her about.’
Tash let out a ‘no’ and Ceri placed her hand on her sister’s thigh. This was so difficult to hear, to think Mum had grown up with a violent father.
‘She came to find me. So I took her out on my boat, by here … it was as hot as a coal fire, she’d brought her swimmers and I got into mine … and she asked me to be hers just once.’
He picked a thread on his trousers in embarrassment and Ceri looked out to sea to give him room to recover. Her mother had been so proper, she must’ve been desperate to escape her grief to seek him out like that.
‘I was with Melyn’s mother Sian by then, she was expecting, three months gone, not by me. We were friendly, I had lost your mother, no one else compared. I wanted to get over Angharad. But then when the love of your life asks to be loved …’ His chin tremored and he wiped his face down to hide it. ‘What can I say? I was weak.’
Ceri swallowed hard as she heard Tash’s words again that their mother had been human. It seemed her father was too. But did she want that of her parents? She stared up at the sky and realised she wouldn’t be here if they hadn’t been human.
‘But I don’t regret it. Never. How could I?’
He made that guttural sound again, his composure falling away for a second, before he gave her a tender smile. Not hers, but his. She returned her own. ‘Not now there’s you, here.’
She had only ever known one parent: to hear the other, who was alive in front of her, tell her
she was loved revived her soul, kick-starting something she had lost when Mum had died. The tears began to roll. He had something in his eye too, he said, probably sand. It made her laugh out of nowhere and she longed to reach out to him, but they had to tread carefully while this was all so new and fragile.
‘I only ever had one photo of you. She kept it up on the mantelpiece, said it was taken in Spain.’
‘No, it was here on this beach. Afterwards … when we’d come back in to shore. One of the tourists took it. She had a Kodak, I remember, she got it with her fancy wages at the Rolls-Royce factory.’
‘You know, I realised you were … when I saw a photo of Mel and you in that same spot. It was in her room. I should never have gone in. But I was worried, it was full of junk.’
‘That doesn’t matter now.’
‘Did you …’
‘Know about you?’ he said grimly. ‘No. It was only when I saw you in the pub, when Melyn had said who your mother was, she’d told me your age, your father was a Spaniard called Emilio and your eyes … I just sensed it. It was like looking in the mirror. Minus all this,’ he said, rubbing his hair. ‘I didn’t even know she’d died. It was all a huge shock. I still hoped … love would conquer all, the old fool I am.’
‘Why didn’t she tell you? Because she loved you so much. If she had told you’ – Ceri’s voice cracked – ‘then I’d have had a father. I’m not sure I can forgive her.’
Tash put her arm around her.
‘She did it out of love, out of kindness. It’s hard to understand why, I know.’
‘Yes, it is.’ She was struck by an anger, which rose in her chest and made her eyes smart.
‘I had my responsibilities here. Sian was her friend. She was ashamed. And she didn’t want to take me away from my promise, to raise Melyn. That was the decency of your mother. She didn’t want you to suffer, that’s why she told you a story about Emilio. To give you no reason to feel unwanted.’
It must’ve been the hardest thing she’d ever done, Ceri saw now. ‘Did she ever get in touch? Did you try?’