by Laura Kemp
‘Why didn’t you say anything? I’d have put you up. My God, I can’t believe you felt like you had no other options.’
‘I cause so much trouble, wherever I go.’ Annie was sobbing silently now, as if she’d be a pain to cry out loud.
‘You don’t! You’ve never caused any! Not you, never you! You need to let people help.’
‘But I can’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because … I don’t know how to. Nanna and Bampy looked after me lovely, they did, but I was a burden to them; when they were done with raising their daughter, my mam, they had to do it all again with me. I can’t be a burden to anyone else.’
‘Right, well, tonight, you and Teg, you’re coming in with me and we’ll work this out. When I think of you out here …’
Wanda took her into the living room, away from Mam and Carys, who, once they’d been briefed, rallied round to make a bed and find a nightie. Teg was offered some ham and cheese, and she sat so very nicely that she convinced everyone that Under A Starry Sky should be immediately dog-friendly. Then, after Wanda had knocked up a quick pasta and Annie had made a phone call to Blod to say she was staying the night, the pair hit the wine to chew over the day.
‘Bloody men,’ Wanda sighed, kicking back on the sofa.
‘Aye, bloody men,’ Annie agreed from the armchair with a roll of her eyes. ‘I’m off them for life.’
‘Good luck with that! Because …’ Wanda hesitated, wondering if she should go there. But damn it, it’d give Annie a boost. ‘… I think you and Spike could be good together.’
‘Spike? No. No way.’ Annie shook her head rather too emphatically. ‘I thought he was into you!’
‘I don’t think I’m his type – or Arthur’s! Not worldly enough. I don’t fancy him anyway, he’s lush but …’ He wasn’t Lew. Wanda caught a flicker of something like relief on Annie’s face. Ha! She knew it! She did like him. But she didn’t want to embarrass her so she carried on. ‘I don’t have a clue about kids. Arthur’s quite the education when it comes to our Welsh lessons, he keeps looking up rude words in the dictionary. I’ll have to practise motherhood on the twins. That’ll be as close as I ever get.’
‘Yeah, well, I’ve given up on kids myself.’
Wanda felt an idiot for bringing that up. But hang on … ‘You’re only forty. Women have them much later than that.’
Annie shook her head far more convincingly now. ‘You have to meet someone first, get to know them, prove you’re not just after impregnation and that can take years.’
‘God, the age-old biological clock thing.’
‘I know. But at least I’ve got my Teg.’ Teg heard her name and sat her chin on Annie’s knees for a bit of spoiling. ‘What about you then, Wanda?’
‘Oh well, you know …’ She shifted in her chair and tried to ignore the quickening inside her when she automatically thought of a certain someone. ‘I’ve got commitment problems, I think.’
Annie stared into her glass for a moment, then looked up at her as she fought to control a lazy smile.
‘What?’ Wanda said, not liking this at all.
‘I wouldn’t say that.’ Annie gave her a knowing look. ‘I’d say you’re very loyal and in for the long haul.’
‘Or stupid and delusional.’
‘Lewis Jones, eh?’
‘What about him?’ Wanda failed spectacularly to keep a straight face. This was ridiculous! Just his name made her go all funny. But then she remembered where she was at with him and her face fell. ‘We’re only just friends again. And he’s currently lined up to become Blod’s nephew-in-law.’
‘Don’t assume anything.’
‘Right, so he’s said something to you about me, has he?’ She said it knowing the answer would be a ‘no’ – but that didn’t stop a tiny bud of hope that he had.
Annie see-sawed her head on her shoulders.
‘No, I didn’t think so.’
‘But he’s different around you than he is round me.’
‘But that’s because of Ryan.’ It felt weird saying his name and realising she didn’t feel that old hatred.
‘That’s true, we are like brother and sister. But still … he wouldn’t have helped you if he didn’t feel something.’
‘He’s helping because he wants me to go travelling! To leave! He said so himself. Several times.’
‘Maybe that’s because he can’t be around you if he can’t be friends with you. Maybe he thinks you wouldn’t take a chance on him.’
‘That’s quite a stretch, Annie. And I’m not sure it’d do me any good to hold on to that. Maybe it’s best I fantasise about hooking up with my Spanish tutor or tango teacher. Or both.’
Wanda and Annie shared a tipsy cackle.
‘Anyway, what about the love of your life? What are you going to do with Teg? The offer of having her here stands.’
‘I know and I appreciate it, but I’ve had a think and there’s someone who might need her more than I do. I’ll sleep on it.’
‘In a lush comfy warm bed!’ Wanda said, holding up her glass.
‘All thanks to you,’ Annie replied, raising hers Wanda’s way. ‘It means everything to me to have you as my friend again.’
‘Same here,’ Wanda said, really meaning it. ‘You’ve made me see my world through new eyes and that’s been a gift to get me through it. You’ve dug me out of a massive hole, Annie, and it’s about bloody time you had some help back.’
21
The glow of the best sleep Annie had had for ages lasted all day.
Waking up in a proper bed with rosy cheeks instead of in a tent damp with dew had revived her spirits. Teg’s too, judging by her enthusiasm on her gardening rounds today – she’d detached herself from Annie’s side to roll outstretched belly-up onto her half of the duvet this morning because she was so cosy.
It wasn’t just the physical comfort though – it was the warmth of Wanda’s care: of picking Annie up, feeding her and welcoming her into her inner sanctum. Accepting help hadn’t been humiliating or degrading, she’d discovered. Neither had it meant relinquishing control. It had been meaningful for Wanda herself to step in, giving her a chance to pay back Annie’s efforts. And that gave the two friends an even deeper connection.
She’d carried it with her on today’s jobs: during the hedge-cutting at the high school, where she spied through a classroom window Arthur sat right under the teacher’s nose; and later during the weeding and trimming for her divorce lawyer, who’d scoffed at Dean’s brinkmanship and reassured her a judge would laugh his claim on Teg out of court. It was a profound revelation: accepting help was a strength, not a weakness, because she was no longer an island, there were bridges she could cross. When she’d wondered last night who could have Teg until she had her own place, her gut had suggested one person. That suggestion, after all the hours of thinking, had now become a no-brainer.
So here she was at their door, uninvited, which was a challenge in itself. Annie had quickly learned as a kid that turning up unannounced didn’t inspire ‘well, this is a nice surprise!’ but a ‘what do you want?’ Yet she had a reason: to ask for help here would also enable her to help somebody else. She hoped they’d see it as she did – as a win-win situation.
As she knocked, she noticed the wreck of the semi next door – it had the most beautiful waterfall of lilac wisteria over the porch. A classic sign that it was mid-May, it needed to be cut back, but she could imagine it resembling a draped stage curtain, a subtle introduction to what could be a lovely little cottage. Someone would spot the potential behind its cracked single-pane windows and sprawling ivy, the lucky so-and-sos …
‘Hey! This is a nice surprise!’
Annie was gobsmacked at the reception and almost forgot her lines as happiness threatened to burst out into laughter. But she squashed it down just in time – putting
her index finger to her lips, she gave a ‘shush’ and beckoned ‘follow me’ to her van. Once she’d outlined her plan, she waited for the verdict. And it was a heart-bursting: ‘You better bring Teg in, then!’
In the hall, Annie was given permission to unveil the surprise – with a nod directing her to the left, she crept into the lounge and let her baby go to her new master.
‘Teg! Hello! What’s this label on your collar? Please look after this dog … until she can live with her Mam again.’ Arthur’s face was a picture! ‘Teg! You’re mine!’
‘Just until Annie gets a place of ’er own,’ Spike reminded him, but then he too was down on his knees with his son and cuddling the new addition to their family.
‘What d’you say—’ Spike began, but Arthur was already grinning up at Annie, shouting ‘Diolch!’, which was thank you in Welsh, and which had to mean he was settling.
‘So here’s her bag: she gets a dental chew in the morning, a crust of toast if she’s lucky; ideally she’ll need a walk first thing but don’t worry if you can’t, just throw her a ball in the garden. I’ll be along to get her if I can take her to work, then after school you’ll need to take her out, give her her tea about six p.m. and then she’ll flop out after that.’
‘Can she sleep with me, Dad? Can she? Please!’
‘’Course! If it means you stop creepin’ in to me in the night and wakin’ me up with your snorin’!’
Bless that little boy – he needed so much love and so much comfort. Spike had leapt at the opportunity: it would never fill the gap Arthur’s mother had left, but Teg would give him some company – and get him off that bloody screen! It wasn’t only that; Annie had mentioned how dogs were an outlet – a way to express love easily when it was hard to do it to a person. Spike understood that; it was like having a fire burning in the home, a focus that pulled you in and warmed you right through. Teg had already unlocked Arthur’s heart and they were on the floor wrestling as giggles and barking mingled in a scene of sheer delight.
This was exactly what that boy needed. This was the icing on top of the cwtchy space Wanda had created with her cushions and throws and photo frames which had lovely pictures of Arthur and his super-smiley mam, Lucy, arms around each other on a hot beach somewhere. Annie put a hand to her throat at the injustice of Arthur’s and Spike’s loss, the tragedy that Lucy would never see her son grow up and that Annie’s own mother had walked away from her daughter, from all this, from a role that other people would kill to have. Including Annie.
‘Stay for tea if you’d like,’ Spike said. ‘Just a spag bol, but there’s some red wine goin’.’
Spag bol was her favourite – it smelled delicious. But was this too much to accept? Would she be outstaying her welcome?
He saw her waver. ‘You’re stayin’! Five minutes and it’ll be ready.’
‘You sure?’ she asked shyly.
‘Yes, don’t go now, Teg needs you to bed ’er in.’
How could she refuse!
Over a lush bowl of pasta, all three of them at the table, Spike praised Arthur for sitting up.
‘You’d rather have it in front of the telly, wouldn’t you?’
‘Yeah but this is … all right,’ Arthur said, giving Annie a smile before glancing down at Teg, who was by his side like a sentry – not least because she was hoping for a titbit.
It was strange, but sat here she felt as if she fitted in amid the colour of the kitchen, with its fridge magnets of holiday destinations – Turkey, Spain and France – holding up mementoes of a younger Arthur’s stick-man drawings, a photo of a uniformed Spike holding his baby son and a thumbs-up selfie of Arthur with a trophy. There were schoolbooks on the counter, a couple of spanners on the windowsill and the washing machine was rumbling away. It was just how her home would feel, not messy but a sign of work and life entwined. Wanda didn’t fancy him and she’d said Annie and Spike could be good together … maybe she was right? And yet it felt unfamiliar to Annie to have any such expectations. Hope for the best but prepare yourself for the worst, that had always served her well. To have him as a friend would be more than enough; she should stick with that, she decided. How could she think anything more – it would be inappropriate, obscene, to think beyond that … Lucy was irreplaceable.
‘Anything good ’appen at school today?’ Spike said, crunching on some garlic bread.
‘Nah.’ Arthur kept his head down, twirling a huge fork of spaghetti and shovelling it into his mouth.
‘I saw you through the window today, I was up at the school doing some hedge-trimming,’ Annie said.
He shot her a nervous look mid-munch. She suddenly realised why – being put at the front of the class was something that had happened to her. It was so the teacher could keep an eye on you. She wouldn’t say anything. In fact she wished she hadn’t mentioned it just now. His barriers had gone back up and she felt responsible. How stupid and clumsy of her. She needed to make it up to him.
‘Saw you playing football in the yard after, you’re a natural attacking midfielder.’
Arthur rolled his eyes, unconvinced.
Ha! But what Arthur didn’t know was that Annie had grown up watching Match of the Day with Bampy and she knew a bit. ‘You cut the defence open and that goal was pretty good. Reminded me of Maradona against England in the 1986 World Cup. Some say it was the best goal of all time.’
He flicked his eyes up at her from under his fringe. ‘Was that the Hand of God goal?’
‘No. That one was the first he scored in that game. I’m talking about his second: he won the ball in his half then dribbled it past everyone and went round the keeper.’
He gave her a look of surprised respect. ‘Cool! I’ve seen that on YouTube.’
‘I would’ve been … a bit younger than you are now … we watched it and back then, everyone here in Wales supported whoever was playing England – some still do! But it’s just harmless rivalry. I remember my grandfather shot up out of his chair and shouted his head off! He called Diego Dai-ego; Dai’s the shorthand for David here.’
‘It’s like Arsenal against Spurs! We’re Spurs, aren’t we, Dad?’ The excitement lifted his defences, revealing the sweet little boy he really was.
‘Oh yes! Come on you Spurs!’ boomed Spike. ‘You should join the school team, mate.’
‘Maybe. Trouble is, they go in for me on the tackles. They don’t like me.’
‘Because you’re good, son. If you were in the squad, they’d love you.’
Arthur was rolling his trouser leg up, but even as he did so, Annie wondered if he might understand that there was a way he could make friends of them.
‘Look at this bruise! This is what they do to me!’
Ouch. Annie winced at the angry purple and green bang on his shin bone.
‘Got any vinegar?’ she asked.
‘You a zombie? You want to eat my leg?’ Arthur joked as his father went to the cupboard.
‘No!’ she laughed. ‘Kitchen roll?’
Spike handed her the Sarson’s with quizzical eyes, and then the kitchen paper. She folded a few sheets into a compress, doused it in vinegar and then told Arthur to elevate his leg.
‘On the table?’
‘Yep.’
He couldn’t believe he was being permitted to do something outlawed.
‘There,’ she said, ‘just lay this on the bruise and it’s like magic. It encourages blood flow to the skin and breaks down the bruise. Keep it there while I clear the table – no arguments, Spike! – and then wash it off when you have your shower. Arnica, aloe vera, witch hazel, they work too; my Nanna Perl used to stick cabbage leaves on mine! I’ve got a whole apothecary’s shop at home with potions and homemade remedies … lots are plant-based, very handy when you’re getting knocks on the job.’
Spike was agog – she thought it was at his son’s compliance, but it turned
out to be at her.
‘You’re a healer!’ he said, not taking his eyes off her as she made trips to and from the table for plates and a wipe-down of the surface.
‘Hardly!’ she said over her shoulder as she ran the taps to fill the washing-up bowl.
‘This is like the Lady of the Lake legend!’
She felt her spirits lower at the memory of Dean’s so-called term of endearment. Trust Pincher to invade her happiness. But then Spike began to tell the tale, and as she listened … Yes! Now she understood what he was getting at.
‘So, the Lady of the Lake and her ’usband, they had three sons and they were endowed with magical powers. They could’ve become great warriors, but instead they chose to be healers, using what they could get ’old of from the land. They were known as the Physicians of Myddfai. Just like our Annie!’
‘Oh yeah!’ Arthur said.
There was so much to be thrilled about. The comparison was complimentary and – and! – he’d called her ‘our Annie’. It was like having a new identity, away from the abused wife: she was soaring, onwards and upwards.
‘Tell you what, son, this one, she’s a woman of many talents. So many layers,’ Spike said with admiration. No one had ever said that to her before.
‘Dad!’ Arthur suddenly cried. ‘Can we play that game?’
‘What game?’
‘The layers one. With the bobble hat and gloves. Have we got any of that Dairy Milk left?’ Arthur was as animated as a cartoon.
Annie swung round from the worktop, drying her hands on a tea towel. ‘I love that game! I used to play that. The one where you roll a dice and if you get a six you have to put on the hat, scarf and gloves, then try to cut off a piece of chocolate with a knife and fork and eat it but if someone gets another six you have to take it all off—’
‘And you might be just about to eat the chocolate and you can’t!’ Arthur cried.