The Year of Surprising Acts of Kindness

by Laura Kemp

  ‘She didn’t, I did. Only when Melyn’s mam had left me. She met someone else, I couldn’t blame her. Our marriage became an arrangement, there had been love of a kind but never the real thing. So I went up to Crewe, this would’ve been, what, fifteen years ago? I sat outside the factory until I found her. She told me it was too late. She had two kids by then, one of whom was you, I now know, and you, Tash, love. Had I realised … well, I’d have tried harder. But I think she didn’t tell me because it would’ve caused so much disruption. She must’ve thought I’d have to have chosen between you and Melyn. She didn’t want to cause the hurt.’

  He fiddled with the neck of his padded checked shirt and pulled out the locket Ceri had known forever and opened it to reveal her mother’s headstone. It wasn’t the same photo though; she looked younger than that one taken by the rocks. It was a gift to see her in a picture she’d never seen before, as if she was alive again. ‘But I always had her in here. You know, every Valentine’s Day, I’d drive up to show I’d move heaven and earth to be with her. I’d ring the bell, she’d never answer. But her doorstep was always scrubbed so clean, I knew she was okay. I’d post a card, hoping …’

  The cards … they were from him. All those years he had been waiting for her.

  ‘She kept every one. I found them in her drawer. Although the last one, she never saw that,’ Tash said, just as overcome. ‘She never forgot you. Why did you sign them with three kisses and nothing more?’

  ‘It was our code, one for each word in I love you. Sometimes people can’t be together. You learn to live with it, you do, but you still carry it here,’ he said, patting his chest.

  ‘That was why she wanted to be scattered here. Even with her dementia, she didn’t get confused about that.’

  ‘Well, that means a lot, thank you,’ Emlyn said, as his dog bounded up again wet from the sea.

  Ceri let him alone for a while even though she was preoccupied now with what came next.

  ‘I don’t think we can do this to Mel, you know,’ she said. ‘She’s only just put Al behind her. What if this sends her backwards?’

  Her dad considered her point with a see-saw of his head.

  ‘It’d be like what Mum did, though,’ Tash said gently. ‘Keeping a secret.’

  ‘But what if she thinks I’ve stolen her father? I couldn’t live with it.’

  ‘What if she thinks she’s gained a sister?’ Emlyn said. ‘Lies backfire. I don’t see we have much choice. Look, I’ll go there now, wait for you. If you decide not to be a part of our lives, I will accept it. Bear in mind, your mother was afraid, you don’t have to do the same.’

  He got up, creaking on his hip, and waited, not putting his arms out because he was saying it was up to Ceri to decide. Instinct pushed her towards him, into his body, his solid shape which felt like a father. She wept into him and felt his tears fall onto her face as they hugged away the years of separation. After a while, they pulled apart but Ceri knew their bond would forever remain.

  He went to leave but Ceri had to know if his version of Mum’s life had been true.

  ‘Wait!’ she said, fumbling open the letter. It had been written on a sheet of her mother’s special cream Basildon Bond she used for school notes – just because she was a single mother, she had standards. It was dated more than twenty years ago. Why? She’d thought it had been penned in the weeks leading up to her death.

  ‘What happened in December 1996?’ she said quickly.

  He scrunched up his forehead to remember. ‘When her father died, I believe. No bugger turned up for his funeral. I did, though, in case she was there. She wasn’t.’

  As he left, she read on …

  Dear Ceri

  I’ve no idea when this will reach you. I don’t want to be maudlin because there’s lots of life left in me yet. But I want you to read this when I’m gone.

  Today my father died. I’m not sorry, he changed the path of my life, made me frightened to follow my heart. I am what I am because of him. He’d say you couldn’t polish a turd but it didn’t stop me trying.

  This will be a shock to you and I can only tell you I did this to protect you from my shame but your father is Emlyn Thomas, my first and only love. We grew up together in Dwynwen. Perhaps you will know when you read this, perhaps I will have told you and you’ll understand how much I wanted to be with him. But it was impossible. I couldn’t take him away from his duty.

  I so desperately wanted to protect you from shame. Emlyn would’ve been torn between me and Sian. In Emilio, all I wanted to do was to give you a hero. Tash didn’t have that luxury, please look after her.

  I’m so very sorry.

  I was too afraid. Too proud.

  Don’t you make the same mistake.

  All my love, forever,

  Mum xxx

  She had been trying to be kind. She had been trying to protect her. From the shame her mother had felt. Shame, it was such an old-fashioned notion. But if it had been drummed into you as a child, well, it was nigh impossible to throw off. Hadn’t she drummed into Ceri how wonderful Emilio had been? And she’d done well because of it. Now she felt ready to end the pain of the past. Ceri picked up the caddy, holding it by the belly, and stepped beside the stream.

  ‘Tash, do you want to or shall I?’

  ‘You do it. Do it for us.’

  So Ceri opened the lid and as she shook and shook and shook her mother into the air, as the ashes swirled and fell and formed a dusty film on the water to be carried away to sea, she understood she was setting her mother and herself free. Over her shoulder, her father had made it almost to the cabin. It was time to look forward with her two sisters.

  35

  Mel’s counter was stripped bare already and it was only mid-morning. Ceri would have to divulge more secrets, she giggled to herself, if this is what it did to trade. Papers, gone. Bacon baps, gone. It was the same for her Welshcakes too. And the phone, she felt as if she was working in a call centre. Other journalists chasing up the story, nosy crows and strangers who wanted to know if they could book a cottage. She couldn’t blame the interest – it was an incredible turn-up.

  ‘Make-up magnate Ceri Price is spending her fortune on turning her mum’s run-down birthplace into a sexy seaside spot to seduce tourists,’ went the intro. Mel knew it off by heart having read it herself over and over. It wasn’t the whole story – the identity bit obviously hadn’t had legs and she was glad because it would’ve stained a magical few weeks. Ceri’s idea had brought so much happiness and excitement, she would be forgiven. It wasn’t even the bit of interest to her – it was all the stuff about their Ceri’s life as Ceri Price. It was ‘the glam YouTuber who’d started her cosmetic brand in her mother’s kitchen four years ago’; her sports car and penthouse flat; how she earned upwards of £10,000 a month and had signed a six-figure contract to be the face of her own lip gloss and blusher, mascara and eyeliner, some of which Mel applied in her bathroom mirror. Then there was the close-up of Ceri with a professional showbiz blow dry, her hair sleek and shiny, her contoured face done up to the nines with foundation, lashes and lippy. It just didn’t marry up with the Ceri they knew, who was windswept and freckly. Although one person had twigged – she’d seen Logan at the crack this morning driving his poser van onto the beach to empty his surfing station. It was good riddance to bad rubbish. And poor Rhodri, having lost a friend in the process but keeping shtum because he believed in second chances.

  A paw scratched at the door – it was Gelert coming in for a bowl of tea. And Dad, whose hip seemed to be playing him up.

  ‘Need a coffee?’ she asked, rushing to help him in as the dog looked around for dropped crumbs.

  ‘I do. But not a nurse!’ he said, before softening and kissing the top of her head.

  ‘Did you hear about our Ceri? She’s not who she said she was? And—’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ he
said, seating himself. ‘Seems she’s done the place a favour. Everyone’s talking about it down the harbour.’

  ‘I can’t get over it! Loads of interest,’ she said, which reminded her to switch on the answerphone. It hadn’t been used in forever. ‘I’m glad you’re here,’ she said, ‘we need to think about Ceri’s offer. She’s been hanging on for ages now to see if she can buy into the cabin.’

  ‘We do, Melyn, we do,’ he said, sighing. ‘Or at least you do.’

  ‘It’s not up to me … this is your place.’ She looked at him more closely now – he was wet in the eyes and serious when normally he was cheeky and bright.

  ‘Turn the sign to closed, would you, love?’

  She paused, her mind whirring. ‘You’re not ill, are you?’ The thought alone propelled her to the door. The tourists would just have to wait.

  ‘Noooo!’ He smiled at her fondly, held her gaze for a while, full of love. ‘Come and sit, will you.’

  She perched next to him. He was tapping the salt and pepper pots, a pair of china Welsh ladies in stovepipe hats and shawls. The other tables had dragons, corgis and sheep. She’d wondered about getting rid of them, exchanging them for something more in theme with the new look, but they were vintage and characterful. It occurred to her she had made such progress to consider keeping them for a good reason like that rather than out of panic.

  ‘Now listen to me, Melyn Thomas. You’re my daughter. My first-born. You’re special. Do you hear me?’ She loved the way he went gruff because he was of the generation who found love hard to talk about.

  ‘Dad, what’s this about? You can tell me. I’m not a delicate daffodil, like you think. I’m better, I am.’ As she’d said it, she believed it: Cardiff had cured her, perhaps not forever, maybe she would always be prone to hoarding, but now she would get back up if she was floored again. She’d worked late into the night bagging up her room, understanding she wasn’t harming Ali’s memory but making space for her future. And if she was to ever entertain a man again, somebody, say, like Carlos, then she’d have to get it nice. Seeing her father like this did alarm her, she wouldn’t lie, because she wasn’t sure what was coming, yet she felt older, as if there was a shift in responsibility happening between them. He’d been there for her before she was even born. She had to be there for him from now on; he was alone and, while happily so, he wouldn’t always be so independent. ‘It’s time to support you, if that’s what’s up. I’ve sorted things with Mam and Fi’s going to start officially tomorrow.’

  ‘Don’t you worry about me. It’s nothing bad. I’m the most blessed man you’ll ever meet.’ There was no laughter on his face, which was strange, because he was always one to give a little wink if they were talking important matters. But she found she didn’t need his reassurance. He put his warm palm on top of her hand. His knotted knuckles had seen so much hard work. She placed her other hand on his protectively and waited.

  ‘Melyn, I have something astonishing to tell you. I’m still … well, bewildered really and I’ve only known this for a few days. But it’s a wonderful, wonderful thing, for me, for you, for both of us, I’m certain of it,’ he said, not breaking eye contact, including her in his world. ‘You see … I’ve just found out you have a sister … I have another daughter …’

  It took a second for Mel to understand what he meant. He had a sister? She had a daughter? Then it righted itself and she felt her eyes bulging in shock. ‘Dad,’ she whispered, ‘what … how … woah, another sister … another daughter, that’s both of us!’

  ‘It is,’ he said, tickled. ‘Quite right.’

  ‘A sister … it’s not just Ffion and me …’

  ‘Yes. But it’s not quite as straightforward.’

  ‘What do you mean? How old is she?’

  ‘Just thirty.’ He gulped as he said it, knowing she’d be working out the maths.

  ‘She’s the same age as me? How is it possible?’ She got it and felt a bit repulsed, pulling her hands away to challenge him, feeling sick. ‘Dad, that means you … when you were with Mam. Doesn’t it? You’re not like that!’ Her voice was rising and she fought to control it because this wasn’t how their relationship was, not now, when the teenage hormones were years away. ‘Where is she? In some port town halfway across the world? From one of your cruises?’ It came out as an accusation and she felt sorry but she was in shock.

  ‘No … she’s here.’ He said it neutrally, as if he would allow her this anger.

  ‘Wales?’ Again, she was harsh. But confusion was making her anxious.

  ‘Dwynwen.’

  She took a sharp intake of breath. This was like some horrible game of hot and cold and she felt as if she was about to get burned. ‘Oh, Dad, this is just … well, it’s not astonishing, it’s all weird. I might know her. Does she know? I bet she’s been laughing at me.’

  He lifted his hands as if he was about to tell her to calm down but he put them back on the table, he was in no position to tell her how to feel.

  ‘She hasn’t. She’s very fond of you. And you’re very fond of her.’

  She saw herself dashing around her brain to work it out. Frantic, she was, and her ribs felt tight.

  ‘Melyn,’ he said, almost sternly as if she was being told off. But she knew she wasn’t – he was trying to put her out of her misery. ‘It’s Ceri. Your friend.’

  ‘Ceri?’ she spluttered. ‘Is this a joke? Her father was Spanish, he was called Emilio!’

  She rolled the word Emilio around her mouth a few times but it became Emlyn as the penny dropped. Mel saw his eyes were Ceri’s eyes and how had she not seen it? How, with her gift, had she not noticed they had the same shiny shade of brown? Those flecks of Bournville which burned in the sunshine …

  ‘But she’s from Crewe!’ she cried, resisting but knowing it was pointless.

  His shoulders drooped and he looked exhausted. And seeing him like this reminded her she was no longer a child. She was breathing too fast, she had to slow it down and she did it, she forced herself to do it so he could find the words to explain.

  ‘This is all very fresh still so forgive me, but when you told me about your friend’s mother being from here and her name was Angharad, I worked it out straight away.’

  She cast her mind back to the pub and what she’d thought was indigestion. He’d been reacting to the discovery of Ceri instead.

  ‘There was never another Angharad in the village. There was only ever her, I loved her very much. We … once … thirty years ago.’

  Mel turned away. She didn’t want to hear this about her father, whom she adored. It was like his halo had slipped. He was supposed to be a good man.

  ‘But circumstances … I never saw her again, not to talk to. I never even knew she was pregnant.’

  ‘Oh, Dad,’ she said, appalled.

  ‘It wasn’t like that, Melyn.’ He had the gall to look put out by her reaction.

  ‘It never is!’ She wanted to throw the damn salt and pepper pots at him now.

  ‘I had just started out with your mam,’ he said, regaining his composure. ‘I wanted you both to be safe and warm. It doesn’t excuse my behaviour … I know I did a terrible thing.’

  Hearing him admit it helped to calm her. And she began to consider what he had done for her: raised her as his own and she had never once felt anything but cherished by him. He’d put his commitment to Mam and her before his own feelings, mostly.

  ‘You can’t be criticised for one moment when you put duty before anything else,’ she said bravely.

  ‘It wasn’t my duty,’ he said, ‘it was my choice.’

  ‘But what if you’d known Angharad was having your baby? Would you have gone?’ It was a horrible question but she needed to ask it, just once so she never needed to ask it again. ‘Because she’s your blood and I’m not.’

  ‘Oh, Melyn.’ His eyelids clamped shut in
agony, his terrier eyebrows tried to offer them comfort. ‘Would I have chosen her over you? It’s like being asked to select what kind of torture I’d prefer. It’s an impossible and meaningless notion. Angharad knew I was committed to you and Mam. She was trying to do the best thing, not telling me. And it was, otherwise I’d never have known you. You are my blood,’ he said, taking her hand in his and shaking it.

  ‘I know,’ she said, feeling the waterworks coming. ‘I just needed to hear it.’ She had never felt not his.

  ‘Biology isn’t everything. I held you in these arms the day you were born. I’ve only just met your sister.’

  ‘What about Mam, what will she say?’ She feared it would rock the new foundations she’d laid with her mother.

  ‘When you get to our age, you hear so much more terrible news, things happening to people you know. You’ve lost your parents. Nothing compares. It makes you embrace the good. We’re past fighting now. I’ll, of course, tell her today.’

  Her worry subsided but then it was replaced by ire. This time at Ceri. For she had been sleeping in her home without a word – no wonder Ceri had been in hiding.

  ‘I’m so cross with Ceri, she didn’t tell me. I had a right to know I was living with my own sister.’

  Dad shook his head. ‘She found a photo of you and me.’

  ‘She was in my room! She was going through my things on Friday. It feels like an intrusion.’

  ‘No,’ he said firmly, ‘she was worried about you. She saw it because she cares. It was Friday, like you said. Think about it …’

  Friday. The day before she’d gone to Cardiff. Where she would never have gone had it not been for Ceri. The tension in her forehead and in her neck and in her fingers began to fade as she realised no one was guilty of anything but love.

  ‘I need to see her,’ she said, getting up, bashing into a chair as her sense of space became overwhelmed by a frantic yearning to get to the door.

  ‘I asked her to come up and wait outside. I hope she’s there. If she isn’t, if she’s gone, don’t get upset, Melyn. People react to things differently. So now, you see, why it’s not up to me. The cabin,’ Dad said.