by Helga Jensen
‘Umm, no. Right, we have to go. Rupert said he wanted to watch the horse thing… Umm, I think there are horses somewhere. Come on,’ says Dick, pulling the boys in his direction.
‘Yayyyyyyyyyyy, let’s see the horses,’ says Rupert.
‘Horses, horses,’ chants Jasper. The boys shake each other in excitement. At least I think it is excitement and not another squabble.
‘See you tomorrow then, boys,’ I say, giving them a big hug. I shoot Dick a filthy look.
‘Oh my god, Jamie. Did you hear that about the shares? He did it on purpose, I swear. He knew those shares were going to do that and then he’d get his money back,’ I say.
Jamie puts his arm around me. ‘Come on, you know what he’s like. You can’t let him affect you. Dick is, well, you know, a dick.’ He laughs.
* * *
Jamie and I walk away and attempt to locate the part of the castle where the jousting is taking place to find Sian.
‘Now the boys are sorted, say you’ll come to New York with me and meet your famous Patrick. Sian and I have talked about it loads and both agree you desperately need this break. I think it will help you put everything into perspective and realise there is a big world out there. A world away from Dick and his dodgy dealings,’ says Jamie.
‘I really don’t have any spare money right now. I don’t think so. Perhaps I should start buying lottery tickets again,’ I joke.
‘It won’t cost you much because of the air miles, Amelia. Please come with me. To be honest, I’m being entirely selfish. I don’t want to have to walk around such a wonderful city alone; I really want your company.’ Jamie smiles.
He makes me giggle as he dances around in his tights, shouting, ‘Come to New York, come to New Yorrrrrk!’ Until we spot Miserable Megan coming towards us. Her face looks like thunder.
‘There you are,’ she says to Jamie. ‘I’ve been looking every-bloody-where for you.’
‘I’m so sorry, Megan. We bumped into someone and were chatting over the other side. You made it a bit earlier than you thought, that’s wonderful,’ says Jamie.
Her face softens at this.
‘Yeah, class finished early, luckily. Goodness, look at the state of her,’ says Miserable Megan, looking towards someone.
Jamie and I look in the same direction and see Sian leaning against the castle wall on the east wing. We have only been here a few hours. I knew the combination of a warm autumn day and half a gallon of mead would be disastrous for Sian.
‘What you think?’ says Jamie. ‘Time to get her home?’
‘Yup, I think so,’ I agree.
I don’t mind that our day has been cut short, as the appearance of Miserable Megan is as though a dark cloud has appeared.
Once I get Sian home safe and sound, I start in the direction of my house. It’s not a long walk from Sian’s, so I choose to take a detour. I don’t feel quite ready to sit in an empty home yet. I spot the park straight ahead; it is abandoned as everyone is at the castle. I plonk myself down on one of the swings; the gentle breeze whooshes against my peasant dress. It is nice to have the park to myself; I relish in the peace and quiet. I swing gently and think about the day and how emotional it was. Life is beginning to improve, but seeing Dick and Tanja with the boys, as if they are one big happy family, is something I still find difficult. However, I am pleased I got through it so well. I may have wanted to flog Tanja Tart, but at least there were no tears. I consider what Jasper said about the shares. Poor Jasper, saying that so innocently. I become more enraged with Dick and what he has put me through. So, his shares have gone up. Sky-rocketed probably. Dick and Tanja must have planned this all along. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had siphoned money into an account with her whilst I was busy helping mum. Now they have the money to take our beautiful boys on the holiday-of-a-lifetime. I, meanwhile, can’t afford a trip to a caravan in Porthcawl. It feels so unfair that I had to lose Mum’s house because of his choices, but I believe in karma. I hope that one day he will realise that he lost a beautiful family who loved him. He had everything he ever needed but was greedy. Nothing is ever enough for him. He may eventually realise that Tanja isn’t enough for him and, by that time, I will have happily moved on with my handsome New Yorker. This thought certainly cheers me up.
Chapter 18
A furniture store two months later – Fundraising
‘It’s been months that Patrick has been harassing me to visit,’ I say as my phone bleeps with yet another message from him. I must put my phone away, as Sian and I are trying to study the kitchen bins in Tremendous Value Furnishings.
I am not quite certain why we are in the bin section, as we are here to look for a new bed for Sian as Rob wants to move in with her. What is everyone’s rush at the moment? Although Sian has always rushed into things headfirst. She is so ecstatic that she is considering purchasing a remote-controlled massaging bed in preparation for her new housemate. I had never heard of such a thing before and it’s almost £3,000!
At the moment, though, I feel like pushing her onto the bed and putting the massage on high-speed until she tells me exactly what happened with Patrick on the phone. For months now I have tried to get it from her. I did try and squeeze it out of her at the castle, when she had drunk far too much mead, but to no avail. I am also tempted to stick her in one of the super-speedy rocking chairs and not stop rocking her until she tells me. Both thoughts have crossed my mind. Sian absolutely refuses to divulge what she said when she spoke to Patrick all that time ago and insists that she has done me a favour and that’s all I need to know. I will never get it out of her.
‘You have to visit Patrick. It’s in your destiny,’ Sian keeps repeating. ‘I know he’s gorgeous, but he’s obviously lonely and has something missing in his life. That thing missing is you. This is so romantic, Amelia. You’re made for each other. Imagine Dick’s face when he finds out that someone so gorgeous has fallen in love with you. Just maybe make sure Tanja never meets him though, hey,’ she adds.
I know Sian wants me to go to New York and it’s all super exciting for her, but it isn’t quite as easy as she feels it is. She isn’t a parent and doesn’t understand that the boys are my number one priority.
‘It’s impossible for me to visit him and not on the cards,’ I say.
‘Come on, you can easily go when the boys are in Disneyland, but you’d better hurry and organise something quickly,’ says Sian.
‘I don’t know. I want to be home in case the boys need anything. What if they forget something?’
‘But they’ll be away, Amelia. If they forget their favourite sweater, or teddy, you won’t be able to get it to them anyhow. Do you want to sit at home pining for the boys the whole week they’re away? I think not.’
‘No, I agree it would help having something to take my mind off an empty home, but I don’t have spare cash lying around for a holiday either. I have other priorities. Jamie said he might have some air miles for the flights, but I’d still need a hotel, spending money – it all adds up.’
‘Money is the easy bit. You sell the picture. It’s going to be worth millions.’
‘No, I meant to tell you that I got the estimate back ages ago. It’s bad news.’
‘They said it’s worth two million pounds and not three,’ laughs Sian.
‘No, it’s not worth anything.’
‘Are you serious?’ she asks.
‘Yes, that’s why I’ll definitely not be going to New York in the near future,’ I say.
‘Oh sweets, there must be something you can do. You can’t let this opportunity pass you by. You deserve a little holiday. What about the other things you found in the attic? Obviously, the ankle warmers aren’t worth anything, but there has to be something of value… I have an idea, your record collection? Are there any collectables?’
‘Apart from a Haysi Fantayzee picture disc, I very much doubt it.’ I smile.
‘Come on, you have a good selection there. I saw hundreds of records in that box. Ev
en if you sold all of them to a second-hand record shop, they must be worth something. Look, let’s forget the bed,’ says Sian. ‘Let’s go back to yours and go through that box. I won’t give up until I get you the money, and then perhaps you’ll agree to splurging on a well-deserved break.’
* * *
Opening the box at home, Sian is frantic to find something of value. She puts the records in heaps. Novelty songs in one pile and anything she thinks could be of any importance in another.
‘Nik Kershaw, everyone loved him,’ she says. ‘Let’s see how much it’s worth on eBay.’
Flicking through her phone, Sian looks disappointed. ‘What? How can Nik Kershaw start at 79p? He’s a bloody legend. Wham! Fantastic. Let’s try that,’ she says hopefully. ‘Oh, well, that’s £10. Look, one seller’s asking £65 for it!’
‘Sian, even if I put them together, I’m never going to make enough and there are bigger priorities right now,’ I say.
I admire Sian’s tenacity, but I have to be realistic.
‘This is about you for once; not electric or gas bills, but YOU.’
Sian pulls out a few more records as my WhatsApp bleeps with another message from Patrick.
Did you get the article I messaged you on the NY hotels? XXX
No, I didn’t get anything XX
Oh, technology, hey. Always lets you down. Never mind, Well, anyhow, why don’t you look at flights and keep me updated? XX
Ok. Will let you know. Xx
I return to Sian and the records, putting some of my favourites in a pile to keep. It will be nice to have some spare cash, and I don’t have the space to keep all the records. Regardless of any New York trip, selling the records is a useful thing to do.
‘There must be over a hundred records, so even if we sell each one for an average of a pound, it’s more than a hundred pounds – it’s better than nothing, Amelia,’ says Sian excitedly.
Finally, with the records all bagged up in bin liners, we pick the boys up from school and head straight into town.
* * *
‘Can’t we go straight home?’ complains Rupert.
‘No, we won’t be long. We need to get rid of the records and then we can go home,’ I reply.
We head to Zebedee’s Vinyls together, struggling to carry the massive number of albums and singles. The four of us have a couple of bags each, each one extremely heavy.
A feeling of relief hits me as I put them down onto the counter. The grungy-looking guy, wearing a Led Zeppelin T-shirt, gives us an amused look.
‘Where the hell did you find this lot?’ he says, peering into one of the bags. ‘In an attic somewhere?’ He looks at us half jokingly, half suspiciously.
‘Yes, we did, actually, they’re my old records,’ I explain.
He looks through the records with disgust on his face.
‘Bloody hell, you liked some crap music. No Ozzy? No AC/DC? Alice Cooper?’ He’s smirking to himself now.
I wish he would say how much they are worth, instead of criticising my choice of music.
‘Yeah, okay. So we have different tastes. How much can you give me?’ I say, getting impatient.
He picks up a Nana Mouskouri record, ‘Only Love’.
The man laughs and slams it down on the counter.
‘Hey, careful. I used to love that record,’ I say.
‘I’m not sure I’ll give you anything much for this lot,’ he continues.
He starts putting some of the records in piles and suddenly stops at one of the singles that I don’t particularly recognise.
‘Sex Pistols. Now that’s more like it,’ he says, pausing to look at the cover. ‘This is a classic all right,’ he mutters to himself.
‘Okay, whatever. I only bought it second-hand to impress an ex-boyfriend. I don’t even like them. I prefer a-ha. Now how much will you give me?’ I ask, getting more annoyed with him by the second.
‘Tell you what. I’m feeling generous today. Give you five hundred quid for the lot,’ he says, finally smiling.
Sian looks at me excitedly. ‘Five hundred pounds! That’s more than we thought, take it.’
‘Okay, we’ll take it,’ I agree.
‘Wait, one second,’ says Rupert. ‘I think we should have more money. There are lots of records there. Did you check the prices?’
‘Yes, shhh, it’s okay. They’re old records anyway; five hundred pounds is better than nothing.’
He is so like his dad. Always determined to get every last penny.
‘Let me check the price on eBay,’ says Rupert. ‘You know, just to be sure.’
‘Sian and I already checked the prices on eBay, sweetie. The average price is about ninety-nine pence, so we are getting a good deal. Shh, let’s just take the money while he’s in a good mood,’ I say.
‘Give me your phone, Mum. I don’t trust this man,’ says Rupert.
I am so embarrassed.
‘Sorry about that. Kids, eh,’ I say to the guy, who is now giving Rupert evil stares.
‘Let’s look at this record…’ He picks up the Sex Pistols record. Oh no, of all the records to pick up. Why couldn’t it be Keith Harris, or the Roland Rat record underneath?
The man pushes the Nana Mouskouri single in front of Rupert.
‘Oi, kid, try this one.’
‘No, it’s okay. I have this one now,’ says Rupert. ‘Mummy, why would a record have the S word on it and why would you buy such a thing?’ he asks.
‘Long story, my darling boy, I have no idea. I agree that it is a funny name. Maybe you should try the other single instead and we will leave this at the bottom of the pile.’
I try to take it from him but he is determined, and when Rupert is determined nothing gets in his way.
I am cringing when my innocent eight-year-old types in the words ‘Sex’ followed by ‘Pistols’ and waits for the page to load.
We all stand around awkwardly for a while. The man is drumming his fingers along the till impatiently when Rupert starts making a scene.
‘This man is trying to rob us,’ he shouts. ‘It’s selling on eBay for eight thousand pounds.’
The man turns his head away. I’m sure I hear him mutter the words, ‘Little shit.’
‘Show me the page, Rupert,’ I say.
Rupert shows me the listing, and I see what he means. There is the exact same record on there, selling for £8,000.
We show it to the guy, and he looks at us horrified.
‘Smart kid you’ve got there,’ he says, making a face at Rupert. ‘Look, I’ll have to speak to my boss. Give me a minute.’
Rupert high-fives the three of us.
‘Told you, didn’t I?’
‘Yes, you little clever clogs. I’m very proud of you. I’ll give you extra spending money for Disneyland for that,’ I promise.
Five minutes later, the man opens his office door and pops back out.
‘Look, boss says we’ll need to check over everything, but he thinks we can give you £7,850 for the lot. That’s fair enough. Some of your other records aren’t worth wasting the vinyl for. We can transfer the money to your bank account later.’
Rupert goes to open his mouth, but I tell him to be quiet. I know what he’s thinking. If we try and sell it directly on eBay, we could make more. I am completely satisfied with the £7,850 though, and there are no fees.
‘I really didn’t like that guy,’ says Sian on the way out.
‘Me neither,’ says Jasper.
‘He was a horrible man,’ says Rupert. ‘You’re lucky I was there.’
‘We were indeed, my little munchkin.’ I give him a hug.
‘I think you two boys deserve a big ice cream before going home.’
‘With sprinkles?’ Rupert asks.
‘Definitely with sprinkles.’ I grin.
‘Yayyy!’ They both shout.
‘And, after that, you, Amelia Simpson, need to think about planning a holiday. Time is running out,’ says Sian.
‘I don’t know about a
holiday, but I’m glad you made us go through the records,’ I say. ‘I only wish we’d have done it sooner. Then it could have been me taking the boys to Disney.’
‘No way. It’s meant to be,’ says Sian. ‘Dick is supposed to take the boys because you need some fun of your own. You need to chill a bit. Go to New York and live a little.’
‘Oh, I don’t know. I still don’t think I’ll book anything. Imagine what this could pay for around the house? The boys need new school shoes and…’ I say.
‘Stop making excuses,’ says Sian.
I choose to ignore her and grab the boys’ hands.
‘Come on. Let’s hurry for that ice cream,’ I say quickly changing subject.
Chapter 19
Laugharne – all going wrong
‘Amelia, I’m so happy today that I bought you flowers.’
‘Flowers! Wow, that’s so kind of you, Patrick,’ I respond.
I don’t know when I was last given flowers. Probably on the day of Mum’s funeral, but they were obviously more for her than for me. It is a shame that Patrick hasn’t actually handed them to me, as I have a lovely vase for them. However, there he is on the other side of the Atlantic, holding out the most stunning bouquet of pink and white lilies. How beautiful. I wish I could lean over and smell them. Though maybe it is for the best. I would hate to get a pollen stain.
‘I chose them carefully, especially for you, Amelia,’ says Patrick via Zoom in my dark back bedroom.
‘Well, I love them.’ I giggle.
‘I will buy you so many flowers when you come over. I just want to hold you in my arms and never let you go,’ he says.
Looking at Patrick on the screen in front of me, this thought sounds very inviting. A lovely cwtch with this handsome New Yorker sounds just what this Welsh woman needs. However, there are so many things I could get the boys with my windfall. I’d feel guilty spending some of it on myself.
‘If you come to New York, I promise I’ll arrange the hotel for you, so you don’t have to worry. I may need your credit card details, but I’ll do all of that. If I book it for you, I’ll get you a cheaper rate. Hope that sounds good for you,’ says Patrick. ‘Umm, just so you know, though, I wouldn’t be able to pick you up at the airport if you do come – those transatlantic flights sure do arrive at difficult times – but the hotel, I’d arrange that for sure,’ he continues.