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Chapter Seven

James

The banging on bedroom the door woke me quickly and rudely. “James, there’s a parcel here for you!” Nain shouted.

I pulled on a spare pair of boxers from the little bedside table Nain had brought in and took the only other pair of jeans I had.

There was a white polo shirt in my drawer that I hadn’t seen before which gave me a feeling Nain had been back out to the shop without me, and I pulled on the teal jumper I’d neglected to wear the night before.

It seemed Nain was trying to give me a whole new look without me noticing, and I didn’t hate it.

I was used to the corporate world of suits and brogues, but comfy jumpers and jeans made me feel more at home in the country.

Picking up my phone with a little feeling of dread, I re-dialled my boss.

“Hello, James. I trust you’re well?” My boss’ voice drove a little spike of fear into me that it never had before.

“I’m very well, thank you Arthur.” It was far too easy to slip back into the corporate tone.

“Good. I trust you’re still on track to come in on Friday?”

“Yes, I am.” It was strange, I’d never loved work. But I’d never hated it, but the thought of leaving now filled me with dread. And fear.

“Good. We’ll have a Return to Work form filled out in advance, so that we don’t complicate anything. It’ll be good to have you back.”

“Thanks, Arthur.”

I put down the phone and sighed out loud. Was it the attack that was making London feel so unsafe to me now, or was it something else? I couldn’t tell. I just couldn’t believe that I’d only been in Hiraeth for two days, and would only have three more.

“Did you want a cuppa, cariad ?” Nain called. It broke me out of my stupor, and I quickly pulled on my socks.

“Yes please, Nain!” I got up and opened the bedroom door. Once I was in the kitchen I sat down at the table as Nain boiled the kettle. On the table was a brown paper bag with my name written on it. There was no address.

“Gwyn dropped it off earlier. Said it was from a not-so-secret admirer.” Nain put down a cup of tea in front of me. Seconds later, she was back with toast. I reached over both to see what was inside the package.

There were two wooden knitting needles and two balls of yarn, a deep emerald green that was soft to the touch. “Beautiful,” I muttered. Llywelyn , my brain supplied instantly. It must have been from him.

“That boy knows how to treat someone right,” Nain supplied. She had come to the same obvious conclusion, it seemed. “Shame he’s never found anyone. He’d make a wonderful husband.”

I felt something coil in my belly at the thought. Of course he deserved someone good to him. I idly stroked the ball of yarn as I thought. He would make someone incredibly happy someday, and it wasn’t fair for me to want it to be me.

I ate my toast and drank my tea, took the dishes to the sink and washed them. The entire time I kept glancing back at the wool and needles on the table. It had been so long since I’d picked up a pair of knitting needles, but it would be impolite not to use them.

I took the bag with the needles and wool and walked to the living room where Nain had already ensconced herself in one of her comfy chintz chairs to watch daytime TV.

I cast on a few stitches experimentally, then a few more.

Before beginning, I pulled my jumper over my head and checked out the cabling that ran all the way from the top to the bottom.

Should be easy enough to replicate, I thought.

I started knitting slowly, but it was like riding a bike — impossible to forget once I had started. The old stitches and purls came easily, and I was almost at the end of my first skein of wool when I became aware of someone calling my name.

“Sorry?” I looked up, dazed. Nain stood in the doorway with another old lady at her side.

“You remember Beca, don’t you?” Nain asked. I examined the old woman’s face, and then a memory came to me.

“You argued with my mum in the street once!” I said. “The last time I came here…”

I noticed Nain’s sharp glare at Beca then and wondered if I’d put my foot in it. “You never mentioned that,” she said quietly and maliciously toward the other woman.

“Strange that,” Beca said and then looked at her watch. “Oh, would you look at the time. Must dash.”

Beca’s feet carried her out of the front door as fast as they could at eighty-years old.

“Well.” Nain shook her head as if dazed, and then looked down at what I was creating. “Oh, isn’t that wonderful! It seems true talent is never forgotten, is it.”

I looked down at what I had been creating.

I had been so engrossed in the little pattern that I had concocted that I hadn’t even looked down to appreciate it.

The cables twisting up the emerald pattern made it seem to coil like a snake, and the delicate ribbing either side made the cabling stand out even more.

“Wow,” I said. I hadn’t realised that I could make something so beautiful after so long.

“That looks long enough, doesn’t it?” Nain pulled the scarf from my hands and put it around her neck experimentally. “Yes, that would be lovely. Why don’t you finish it off and go and get us some sausage rolls from the bakery? I can’t be bothered cooking lunch now.”

My stomach rumbled. “What time is it?” I asked idly.

“Just coming up to 2 o clock now,” Nain said.

Wow. I must have been very into my work. Nain gave me the scarf back and took a ten pound note from her pocket to give to me. It felt strange, at my age, a successful financier, taking money from my nan for sausage rolls. But I wouldn’t have access to my savings for at least another couple of days.

“Thanks Nain,” I said. I felt ten again. She kissed me on the cheek and walked out, presumably to the kitchen.

I finished off the scarf, weaved my loose ends in and threw it around my shoulders. I had to find a way to thank Llywelyn for this gift. My mind flashed back to the night before. Perhaps not that kind of thanks.

◆◆◆

The air was cold once again, as it always seemed to be in Hiraeth in January, but the sun was shining.

I pulled Llywelyn’s coat around me for warmth and breathed into the scarf around my neck.

I headed toward the bakery. As I approached, I saw familiar van a few shops down and my heart thudded just a little bit faster.

I walked straight past the bakery and to where the van was parked.

The little shop was obviously no longer in operation, and the windows had been whitewashed on the inside. I pressed my face up to the glass to see if I could see anyone inside. Suddenly, a face appeared in my vision and I jumped back. Llywelyn grinned at me, and gestured for me to come in.

I pushed open the door, which tinkled to announce my presence. Llywelyn looked a bit grimy and sweaty, and wiped the sweat off of his forehead with one arm.

“Hi,” he said. He looked down self consciously at his messy clothes. “Sorry I’m a state, I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

I wanted to kiss him but knew that I shouldn’t. We weren’t together or anything, it might just be weird if I did. Instead, all I could manage was a measly “you look fine.”

“Liar.” Llywelyn smiled at me, and I felt like melting. I wasn’t a liar at all, and I really was still attracted to him when he was sweating. It was the thought of the physical labour that I’d never really been able to do in my jobs.

“What you doing in here then?” I asked, looking around the dusty place for the first time.

“A bit of a project for Mr Prentis, he used to run this place and he’s hoping to sell up. Fat chance as there are no buyers around here but he’s paying me 50 quid a day to get it done.”

“Fifty?” I balked. “That’s nothing!”

“Yeah, well…it pays the bills.” Llywelyn shrugged. “That, and he’s a really nice guy. He offered a hundred but I haggled him down.”

“You…you what?” I was amazed. “What did you say yesterday about wanting more in this town? And you’re haggling people down in price? That’s insane.”

“Well, thanks.” Llywelyn took a sip from a bottle of water. “But that’s the way things are in a small town, you wouldn’t understand.”

“I understand needing enough money to live on,” I replied. Things had gotten frosty quite quickly, so I took on a more conciliatory tone. “I just mean…don’t sell yourself short. You’re obviously providing a valuable service, please don’t struggle to survive just to do so.”

Llywelyn was quiet after that. I took an opportunity to look around. Llywelyn had obviously been fixing some kind of hole in the ceiling, based on the ladder that he stood next to and the brown plaster above, as well as speckled on his clothes.

There was opaque tarpaulin covering what looked to be tables and chairs laid out around the walls. In the far corner was a dusty brown wooden bar, and behind it, taps and sinks.

“Was this a cafe?” I asked.

“Yup,” said Llywelyn. “Mr Prentis has run it since the 60s and struggled for years before deciding to pack it all in in the end. It was still running great, but he got old.”

“It’s gorgeous.” Whilst Llywelyn had been talking I ran a finger across the dust on the bar. The dark mahogany beneath the dust shone. “Are you done on this end? Mind if I start cleaning up a bit?”

“I couldn’t ask you to…” Llywelyn started.

“If you can use the help, I’m all hands on deck,” I said.

“In that case, there’s cleaning stuff under the sink.” Llywelyn started to climb the ladder again, smoothing down the plaster above him. I found a rag and some surface cleaners and polish under the sink, and ran the hot water.

“Who does Mr Prentis think he’s going to sell to then?” I asked.

“No idea. But half these shops have been closed down for years. The problem is we’re far from everything, and the parish council.”

“What about the parish council?”

“They hold a lot more power than the usual,” said Llywelyn. “Always have. So every time a big organisation or company tries moving in to one of the shops, the parish council blocks it.”

“So no local Tesco?”