The Green Hills of Home (9 page)

It never failed to amaze Gwen how
the same landscape could appear to change so dramatically from day to day. Now,
with the dark cloud eclipsing the tips of the tallest hills and blocking out
any hint of sun, the land looked fierce, wild and faintly foreboding, just as
she loved it most. Of course the valleys were also beautiful when the sun
shone, particularly in the early morning, when the dew still lay glistening on
the grass, but Gwen thought it far more romantic and full of character on those
less conventionally perfect days.

As they entered Tonnadulais Gwen
directed John to the tiny car park hidden behind the high street. They were
lucky to find a free spot; most of the places were already taken. John
positioned the car perfectly in the small space and seemed happy to follow
Gwen’s lead as she directed him towards the shops. She could see him looking
around, taking in the little town. He didn’t comment about the area but merely
asked: "Where’s the supermarket?"

"There’s a little Co-op just
down the road," said Gwen. "I need to pop into the library and a few
smaller shops first. Do you want to go for a coffee or something while I shop;
there’s a decent café just round the corner?" She was careful to steer him
away from the tearooms: she didn’t like to take business away from Bronwyn and
Brian but John in her workplace would be an absolute nightmare.

"No, I think I’d better
stick with you. I’ve been working you so hard you might run off on me."

Don’t think it hadn’t crossed my
mind, thought Gwen to herself, but merely replied: "Come on then."

They walked into the small, quiet
library; there was a young mother reading to her toddler in the children’s
corner and a matronly elderly lady browsing the handicrafts section. John
estimated that Gwen had more books in her house than they did here. It was
impeccably tidy and all the walls were covered with cheerful posters. There was
a large notice board by the entrance containing details of the library’s
opening hours as well as all sorts of local events and classes. He noticed that
the building was only open four half days a week and became completely immersed
in the board, what on Earth was a baby signing class? And what went on at the
Knit ‘n’ Natter’s weekly meetings? Pulling himself away from the notices, he
turned round to see Gwen walking towards the issue desk. The smiley middle-aged
librarian who served her immediately began quizzing her about him. John saw
Gwen blush as the woman gently tried to coax her into admitting that he was
considerably more than just her editor. Gwen glanced in his direction and he
turned quickly back to the notice board so neither woman would realise he’d
been watching.

Gwen was soon finished and came
over to tap John on the shoulder. They walked out together and he asked, "Why
do you bother going there? It doesn’t exactly have a huge selection does it?"

"Well, they can order in
books from the other libraries in the county. It was almost closed a couple of
years ago and I’ve got a lot of good memories of coming here with my Mam when I
was little, I like to give my support to help it stay open. It’s really nice
for the old folks and the children in the town to have something like it to
walk to."

John thought about her answer. In
London he demanded that everything be as simple and convenient for him as
possible. He never went out of his way to use a particular service just because
it needed supporting; if it wasn’t the most efficient option he shunned it.

They then went to the post
office, the general store, the bakers and the butchers before finishing with
the Co-op. In each business Gwen was welcomed warmly; the kind enquiries about
her mother came first and were closely followed by intense questioning about
John. Every time this happened Gwen’s face seemed to get pinker and it took
longer for her skin to return to its usual pallor. By Gwen’s fourth
inquisition, John was finding it highly amusing and was winding her up a
little, standing close to her and making it obvious he could hear. The butcher
was by far the most obvious in his suggestions and went as far as to give John
a wink as he was turning to leave.

Whilst Gwen shopped in the Co-op,
John took the opportunity of being away from the house to check his mobile
phone messages. He hated that he couldn’t get decent reception inside Gwen’s
house. He was so used to using his mobile constantly that it drove him mad to
have the inconvenience of not being able to use it whenever he wanted.

As he and Gwen began the short
walk back to the car, John spotted something that made him give a mischievous
smile.

"Are you hungry?"

"A little I suppose,"
replied an unsuspecting Gwen.

"Great, come on then!"
called John over his shoulder as he marched in the direction of a cheery little
tearooms – the very same tearooms that Gwen worked in. She tried to call out to
him to stop, but he was studiously paying absolutely no attention and continued
walking.

Gwen sighed and followed him,
there wasn’t much else she could do, but the last thing she wanted at the
moment was Bronwyn and Brian meeting John – they would tease her mercilessly
about him and would never believe the two of them were just work colleagues.

"Oh," said John,
feigning surprise as they got closer to the tearooms, "Isn’t this where
you work?"

"Yes," said Gwen,
trying to hide how cross she was.

Bronwyn visibly brightened as
John strode in. Gwen was pleased to see that John’s looks had their effect on
at least one woman other than herself.

"You must be Bronwyn,"
said John as he approached the counter. "I’m delighted to meet you."

Bronwyn looked momentarily
confused until she spotted Gwen looking mortified behind him and put two and
two together. She beamed at John as Gwen piped up with "This is my editor
John Thatcher," just in case Bronwyn should be in any doubt about their
relationship.

"It’s so wonderful you were
able to drop in," gushed Bronwyn, "Take a table and I’ll be over
straightaway for your order."

Gwen knew the only reason Bronwyn
was asking them to sit down rather than give their order at the counter was so
she had a chance to run into the kitchen and fill Brian in on what was going
on.

True to form Brian emerged just a
few seconds later and both he and Bronwyn came over quickly to take their
order.

John had settled himself down
quite happily at one of the little tables by the window, indicating to Gwen to
take the seat opposite him. He picked up the laminated, wipe-clean menu, making
a big show of debating what to choose from all the delicacies on offer. He
looked very comfortable and completely at ease under their scrutiny.

"What can I get you two
then?" asked Bronwyn cheerfully. She almost swooned when John asked if she
could recommend something.

Gwen was just about ready to curl
up and die. By this point Brian had given up any hope of being allowed to serve
them and so contented himself with informing the other diners of the presence
of their ‘celebrity guests’.

After taking their order Bronwyn
didn’t appear in any hurry to actually prepare the food; in fact she seemed
rather more inclined to stay around for a chat after handing their order over
to Brian who marched grumpily back to the kitchen muttering ‘I suppose somebody
ought to be doing some work around here."

"So, what have you too been
up to? Enjoying a nice walk around the town?"

"Yes, actually…" began
John but he was cut off by Gwen interjecting, "We were just getting a bit
of shopping in."

"How’s business today?"
she swiftly continued in an attempt to end the conversation and divert
attention away from her and her handsome lunchtime companion.

Bronwyn finally left them alone
once their food arrived, but only because the lunchtime rush was well and truly
underway and Brian was shooting her dirty looks from the kitchen.

Eventually, John finished his
meal, drained the last of his cup of coffee and smacked his lips with
satisfaction

"Shall we order a second
cup?" he asked mischievously.

"No" said Gwen tersely.
He must surely have disliked the coffee and only wanted to stay longer because
he could tell she was embarrassed and hating every moment. "Don’t you
think we ought to be getting back to work?"

"I suppose so," said
John with an exaggerated sigh. "I’ll pay and give my regards to our
delightful hostess," he said smiling over at Bronwyn.

Gwen felt an unexpected surge of
jealousy. Of course she knew he wasn’t interested in Bronwyn, but she felt
strangely possessive and really didn’t like him flirting with her boss. She was
in danger of slipping into a sulk, which would never do; John might work out
what was the matter and would never let her live it down. She had to try to act
normally.

"Fine, you go and say your
goodbyes to Bronwyn, but I’m paying the bill. I don’t need you to buy me lunch,"
she said crossly.

"I’m not buying you lunch,
the company is, I’ll expense it."

Gwen felt a little deflated as he
said this, but wasn’t sure why. What difference should it make whether a lunch
she hadn’t even particularly wanted was paid for by John or his company? What
they had was just a work arrangement, as she’d been so quick to clarify to
Bronwyn, so she should be glad their meal was being treated as purely business.

The weather took a turn for the
better the next day; bright blue skies with proper fluffy white cotton wool
clouds floating lazily through it, stretched as far as Gwen could see. She
suggested they eat their lunch outside, the gorgeous weather was only part of
her reasoning - the kitchen table was so covered with laptops and paper they’d
have trouble eating on it, and it would be far easier to just decamp into the
garden for food.

"You’re not wearing a tie!"
exclaimed Gwen in surprise halfway through the impromptu picnic.

"So?"

"But you always wear a tie."

"It’s warm."

"It’s been warm other days
as well," said Gwen teasingly.

"Well I’ll put it back on
again if you like," countered John.

"No, no, that’s quite all
right," said Gwen with mock-seriousness.

John ate his lunch just as
quickly as usual and then sat fiddling with his phone. Gwen didn’t think she’d
ever seen anyone look more uncomfortable in her life.

"Lie back and close your
eyes," she said bossily.

"How do I know I can trust
you?" asked John.

"Don’t be so daft."

John squinted in the sun and
undid another button on his shirt. Gwen raised her eyebrows questioningly.

"It’s hot," replied
John.

He managed to lie quietly for
about forty-five seconds before grumpily asking "Would you mind telling me
why exactly we’re doing this?"

"Because it’s relaxing, and
you are very tense."

"I’m not tense, I’m just
trying – "

"Sh," said Gwen
interrupting him gently. "Open your eyes. What do you see?"

"Sky. I see sky. Can we get
back to work now?"

"Look closer; did you never
play the cloud game as a kid? Look, over there, that big one looks like an
elephant, and there’s a dragon to your right. See?"

"Yes," replied John
reluctantly.

"What about you?"

John paused for a few seconds and
then answered "Nothing, just cloud shapes."

"Try harder" urged
Gwen.

John paused again, for longer
this time, then finally conceded, "That one could be an iphone."

Gwen was silent. "What?"
asked John, sensing she had something to say. She turned to face him.

"You are such a freak; let’s
get back to work shall we?"

She got up and he followed her
muttering "Thank goodness for that" under his breath.

The rain drummed against the
windows. Gwen checked the clock; she had about ten minutes before she had to
get ready to leave to see her mother.

She saw John had noticed her
looking at the time and said by way of explanation, "I’ll need to make a
move soon."

"I’d like to come to the
hospital with you if I may," replied John.

"Really, why?" asked
Gwen, too shocked to put her query more politely.

"To meet your Mother. Plus
I’m sure she’d be grateful to have another visitor as she’s been stuck with you
all the time."

"Oh, well…" Gwen tried
frantically to think of an excuse as to why John couldn’t come, ideally one
that didn’t hurt his feelings too much, but found she was all out of ideas.

John obviously sensed Gwen’s
anxiety and said "If she says she’d rather I went I’ll just go and amuse
myself in the gift shop until you’re ready to leave."

Gwen sighed, and once again felt
like he’d outwitted her. She wished she knew how he managed it.

As John finished up the paragraph
he’d been tidying, he wondered what had possessed him to ask to accompany Gwen.
He didn’t know her mother and certainly had no particular desire to see the
inside of a hospital, but he was intrigued to be meeting the person who had
such a hold over Gwen and meant so much to her. Did Gwen look like her mother?
Did they sound similar? John had gone with a sudden impulse when he asked to
come and on balance he was glad he had.

 "I’ll drive," said
John a moment later when Gwen got up and started gathering her things together.

"Are you sure?" asked
Gwen, "The roads can be a little difficult if you’re not used to them."

"I’ll be fine. How long will
it take you to get ready?"

"I’m ready now," said
Gwen as she let her hair down and shook it loose from the messy bun she always
wore it in whilst she worked.

"Really? Most women would be
at least half an hour before they thought they’d be presentable enough to open
the door and bring in the milk," commented John with a smile.

"Well I’m not most women. I
think I look perfectly fine and certainly good enough to visit my mother in
hospital where most people are wearing pyjamas! If I’m not smart enough to be
seen with you then please stay here!" said Gwen haughtily.

"I didn’t mean that you
don’t look ok, I was just observing that you’re different to other women I’ve
known. I like it."

John’s last remark silenced Gwen
completely and she walked compliantly to his car.

Gwen was a little nervous as she
led John through the maze of corridors that led to her mother’s ward. She knew
the way so well by now that she didn’t normally need to stop to check the many
signs and maps for directions, but her anxiety meant she double-checked every
turning today.

Gwen’s mother was watching the
door to the ward when they arrived, just like always. Her face broke into a
smile when she saw Gwen, and as she spotted John coming in beside her daughter
she visibly straightened and attempted to tidy her hair.

Gwen introduced John. "Please
call me Edith," she said cheerily bending forward to allow him to kiss her
on the cheek. "I take it I have you to thank for these," she
continued, indicating a stunning bouquet of purple gladioli. "They arrived
this morning and caused quite a stir, I’m sure everyone thinks I’ve got a fancy
man."

"Guilty as charged,"
said John smiling.

"Well, they’re very
beautiful, thank you," replied Edith, grinning back at John. Gwen was
surprised by his thoughtfulness and could see her mother was already well and
truly charmed.

Busying herself tidying around
the bed, Gwen refilled her mother’s jug of squash and washed the grapes she’d
brought with her. She felt slightly superfluous with her mother and John
obviously getting along so well and, if she were honest, a little put out. Her
mother rarely had any other visitors and, as an only child, Gwen was used to
being everything to her, especially since Gwen’s father had died. How dare John
come in and charm her Mam, whom he’d only just met, when he could barely manage
to be civil to her despite them working together in such close proximity.

"So, how long are you staying
in Wales for?" Edith asked John.

"Just until tomorrow. We
should be able to do any further corrections over email."

Gwen’s stomach gave an unexpected
plummet at the thought of John’s departure and she cringed as she heard her Mam
inquire, "What do you think of our Gwen’s book?"

Grabbing the water jug and
mumbling something about going to fill it, Gwen fled quickly before she could
hear John’s reply.

By the time Gwen returned to her
mother’s bedside the conversation had returned to the much safer (if more heated)
subject of whether Wales would beat England in the rugby match scheduled for
the following weekend.

 John left mother and daughter
alone for the last half an hour of visiting and went to get a coffee, asking
them both first if they wanted anything and kissing Edith on the cheek again
before leaving. Gwen had to admit that he was being the perfect gentleman.
Actually, if she was honest with herself, it unnerved her a little; she’d never
met this side of John before. It seemed so far removed from his usual self that
she wasn’t sure how much to trust it.

 Gwen stayed until the very end
of visiting as normal, but she was unusually anxious to leave and had to stop
herself from hurrying her goodbye. She came out of the lift to discover John
waiting by the main door, tapping his foot and typing into his Blackberry
impatiently. Gwen was relieved; at least she knew where she was with grumpy,
irritated John.

John nodded when he saw her and
put his Blackberry away. They walked in silence back to the car, both of them
preoccupied with their own thoughts.

 "The hospital staff seem to
be very busy," said John tactfully as he drove them home.

"Yes. There used to be a
really lovely nurse on my mother’s ward but she’s got a job somewhere else now.
None of the others really seem to take the time to get to know the patients.
Though I suppose it is hard for them with everything they’ve got to do,"
replied Gwen. She paused, then added, "You certainly turned on the charm
for my mother."

"Didn’t you want me to be
nice to her?"

"Of course I did."

"Well what are you
complaining about then?"

Gwen didn’t answer: she was cross
because she didn’t understand why John seemed so at ease with everyone except
her, so friendly and gracious. But she wasn’t about to tell him all that.

She heard John sigh deeply and
was sure he muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "Women!"

John drove in silence and Gwen
let herself drift away in her thoughts, her memories playing on the melancholy:
her mother, the past, and her dearly missed father - how her life had changed
since he’d passed away.

Gwen was a resourceful girl and
had never been afraid of hard work, but realised she was tired of always being
in charge. Without her father around all the little chores he’d always done
naturally fell to Gwen.

Before he’d died Gwen had hoped
to one day get married and have children of her own. Since then, however, Gwen
had come to terms with the fact that she now thought it very unlikely she would
ever achieve that dream. She loved her Mam and was determined she’d always do
her best to look after her. She would never even consider shirking what she
believed to be her responsibility as a daughter, but how would she ever be able
to meet somebody to share her life with if she was spending all her time looking
after her mother? Then, when her mother had her stroke Gwen knew it really was
time to shelve her dreams. There was still hope that at some point Gwen’s
mother would be able to leave the hospital and Gwen would willingly step up to
her role as her mother’s full time carer. At least she’d still be able to be a
published author, and, hopefully, writing was something she’d be able to keep
up, even if it was only on a part-time basis.

Before the news that the house
was being sold, Gwen had planned how she could rearrange the home for her
mother when she finally returned to where she belonged. She thought her study
could become a bedroom, like it had briefly been for her grandmother, so her
Mam could be downstairs and be wheeled into the kitchen in her chair for at
least some of her meals, then moved into the sitting room for a change of scene
if she fancied watching the television. That had been what Gwen had hoped, but
what to do now?

She still had no idea what to do
about the house, she’d tried calling round mortgage companies again, but
without an established income, no one was interested. She had nothing to sell,
and only a modest amount of savings. Who knew where she and her Mam would end
up?

John noticed how far away Gwen
seemed during the journey back and considered it best not to disturb her
reverie; besides, he had plenty to think about himself: his own parents, his
life then and now, but most pressingly, that he really didn’t want to go back
to London the next day. Meeting Edith seemed to be like discovering the final
part of the jigsaw that was Gwen’s life. The more he got to know Gwen, the more
she drew him in and intrigued him. In fact, John found that he’d enjoyed his
time in Wales, almost despite himself.

On their arrival at the
farmhouse, Gwen and John were greeted enthusiastically by Oscar; Gwen took him
straight out for a quick walk. When she returned she found John making some
dinner for them both.  He gestured towards the glass of wine he’d poured ready
for her.

"I didn’t think I had lamb cutlets
in the freezer" said Gwen as she examined what John was cooking.

"You didn’t, I went to the
shops while you were at the tearooms. I had a very warm welcome from the
butcher, he recommended the cutlets."

"What do I owe you for the
food?"

"Oh" said John
surprised. "Nothing. Don’t worry about it."

"I want to pay," said
Gwen firmly.

"It’s fine. I chose the
food; I’m more than happy to pay for it."

"I can’t have my guest
buying his own food!"

"Well, firstly I’m hardly a
guest, and secondly, why on Earth not?"

"My mother would never
forgive me for one" said Gwen a little sheepishly.

"And how would your mother
find out?"

Gwen spotted a receipt on the
table and quickly grabbed it.

"Hey!" said John,
surprised by her underhand tactics.

Gwen was swiftly scanning the
list, a look of horror appearing across her face, "You spent almost £4 on
a packet of ham" she said incredulously.

"Give that back."

"And £20 on one bottle of
wine! Is that what I’m drinking now?" asked Gwen looking at the wine in
her glass suspiciously.

"Gwen, just forget it, it’s
fine" said John a little crossly. "You can buy your own stuff from
the bargain counter next time, ok?"

"I will," said Gwen
stubbornly, but she couldn’t help enjoying the wine.

"How did you learn to cook
so well?" asked Gwen as she peered into a saucepan.

"I spent a lot of time
perched on a stool in the kitchen when I was growing up."

"Watching your Mam?"

"No, our cook; my mother was
either entertaining my father’s business contacts or getting ready to entertain
them."

Gwen steeled herself to enquire
more about John’s mother but before she got the chance, he took a big gulp of
wine and, looking straight at Gwen, asked, "So, how come you’re single?"

"Who said I’m single?"
she blurted quickly.

"Well, you haven’t mentioned
a partner, and I haven’t noticed any men sneaking up the drain pipe and
climbing into your window at night."

"Well observed,"
laughed Gwen. "I am single. There’s not much hope of meeting a man when
you spend half your life holed up in a farmhouse writing and the other half at
the hospital or the local tea rooms."

"There’s always the internet."

"You’ve tried it have you?"
retorted Gwen with a smile, amazed to find how easily she was teasing and
joking with him.

"No!"

"So, why are you single?"

"I guess I’m just too busy
working to have the time to look around for a girlfriend."

"What about the women at
work?"

"I’ve had some bad
experiences of dating women who were only after two things – my wallet and my
influence."

Gwen would have questioned John
further but he took advantage of the brief pause in the conversation to change
the subject again.

"Couldn’t you grow salad
stuff in the garden?" he said tearing up some lettuce leaves.

"Before she was ill my Mam
used to grow most of the vegetables and some of the fruit we ate. It doesn’t
really seem worth doing anything with it now."

"But won’t she be upset when
she comes home to find her garden in a state?"

"It’s unlikely she’d come
back here."

"You mean she’ll need to go
into some sort of a home?"

"Goodness no! I’d do everything
I could to make sure that never happened. She won’t be coming back here because
it looks like we’re going to lose the house in the next few weeks."

"Lose the house! How?"
John sat up straighter and looked genuinely dismayed. He’d known that something
was wrong after Gwen had been so upset by the telephone call on the day he
arrived, but he hadn’t imagined this. Gwen and the house went together, even in
the short time he’d been staying here he could tell how much the house meant to
Gwen, and he could understand why. John wasn’t usually sentimental about
buildings, but he already felt more for this funny little Welsh farmhouse than
for his characterless apartment in London or any of the far grander houses
which he’d grown up in.