Page 29 of The Girlfriend

“A RE YOU SURE YOU DON’T WANT ME TO DO SOME DRIVING?

” ASKED Cherry as they sped down the highway somewhere near Birmingham.

She’d offered, cajoled, begged him to let her do the whole journey, but he said no, she’d been working and he’d had the day off.

So she had to be content with setting the GPS and picking the music, not an unpleasant side of the bargain.

She hadn’t told him exactly where the post code would eventually take them, it was to be a surprise, but its double L prefix gave visions of Welsh villages in the mountains, with snug country pubs.

It was important that she didn’t tell him, the surprise element adding to the memorability of the trip.

It had been timed carefully, not just to eclipse Laura’s birthday, but they had been dating nearly three months now and Cherry knew they needed a marker.

Something memorable. They got on well, but she wasn’t about to let things carry on, drifting pleasurably.

She was of the firm belief that events cemented relationships, took them to a new level.

The more you did together, the more memories you created.

The longer it felt you’d been together, the relationship would then move up a notch.

You couldn’t go on at level one forever; you had to progress. This weekend was progress.

The night before, they’d sat on the living-room floor wrapping Laura’s birthday present.

Daniel had been working crazy hours, so she’d offered to get something and he gratefully accepted.

They agreed on a silk shirt and she’d been let loose on the King’s Road with his credit card and PIN, a nice, dangerous feeling.

A taste of the future. It had given her a sense of self-possessed contentment, of superiority over the shop assistants.

There was nothing so pleasurable as spending other people’s money.

He liked her choice and was relieved she’d also thought to get paper and ribbon, along with a card.

She wrapped the shirt while he penned the card, and, of course, with them sitting side by side and her involvement so far, he asked if she’d like to sign it.

She hesitated, as if she were considering the probable rejection and then decided to be generous-hearted and offered the olive branch of her signature.

As she marked her name indelibly with a flourish, she knew it would cause real anxiety. Daniel and Cherry’s first joint card.

It started to rain. Soon the windscreen wipers were going at full pelt against the spray and the downpour.

“Think it’s raining in Wales?” said Daniel, an underlying excitement in his voice.

Cherry checked her phone. “It is,” she said, smiling. “We don’t want it too much, though, or they won’t let us go down the river.”

“True.” He let out a noise of exhilaration. “I can’t wait for this. Do you know, not one of my ex-girlfriends ever did something like this for me!”

Cherry pretended to be surprised, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to selflessly pick a weekend away that your boyfriend would love. “Honestly?”

“No. It was really always about them. I mean, they might have come up with the idea, but there’s no way they’d be sitting in the car next to me ready to give it a go. They’d be too worried about their hair or the cold or something.” He leaned over and squeezed her knee. “You are amazing.”

“I just thought, you know, it would be a good way to let off some steam, after all the pressure of starting at the hospital.” She could see her thoughtfulness really touched him.

“Thank you. ”

“My pleasure, Dr. Cavendish.”

He smiled and she knew conversations like this helped to make the trip even more memorable, highlighting her selflessness and reaffirming his feelings for her.

The rain continued all the way to Snowdonia, and the GPS eventually led them to a small, whitewashed, picturesque pub, at around half past nine.

Both peered through the rivulets on the windows as they parked, unable to see it properly in the dark and the rain. Daniel switched off the engine.

“Shall we?”

She nodded. “Go!” she yelled, and they jumped out of the car, while he grabbed their bags and they ran laughing into the pub.

It had been all of ten yards, but they’d managed to get thoroughly wet.

“You must be the Laines,” said the short, stout fellow behind the bar with a thick Welsh accent. “I’m Ted. We was wondering when you might get here. ’Specially in all this weather.”

Cherry blinked at him through the droplets on her lashes and smiled.

She’d made the booking in her name and didn’t bother correcting his assumption they were married.

In fact, she was delighted he’d said it, and something about the way the trip had started so perfectly made her think it was going to be a very successful weekend.

“Do you want to see your room and then come down and have a pint, something to eat?”

“Sounds great,” said Daniel, and Ted lifted the bar hatch and took them through the lounge area, which was populated with a mix of elderly locals, mostly men in worn green quilted jackets, and a few other young faces—people who’d also come to experience the white water on the River Tryweryn.

At the back of the room was a door that led to some narrow steps.

They followed him up and came to a long landing, off which were the bedrooms.

“How was your journey?” said Ted. “Came from London, didn’t you?”

He said “London” like it was a foreign country .

“That’s right,” said Daniel as Ted opened the door of room number 3.

“This is your place for the night. Everything’s self-explanatory, but if you need help turning on the taps, you know where to find me.” He nodded at them; then he disappeared back to the bar.

Cherry immediately started to look around.

It was a small room filled with a double bed, an old wooden wardrobe, a low table with some local leaflets, and two bedside cabinets.

The bed itself looked laughably small, as doubles did when you had a king or, in Daniel’s case, a super-king-sized at home.

It was covered with a thick duvet and a green-flecked throw was folded across the foot end.

Another door led to the bathroom, where to her relief, the towels looked clean, as did the shower.

And the suite, thank God, was white, not some awful aged pink or avocado green.

It had been the only place available that was close to the river and it was cheap—something she’d been relieved about, given she was already in so much debt.

She came back into the bedroom to see him bounce onto the bed like a kid. “Come on,” he said, holding out his hand.

She smiled and joined him. They tested out the springs, definitely some wear and tear, but not noisy, thankfully. Then they lay, side by side, for a moment, and Cherry felt herself roll toward the middle. She raised an eyebrow.

“It’ll be more cozy,” he said.

She laughed and jumped up, going to peer out the window. Outside she could just make out what looked like a stable and a lot of open fields.

“You hungry?” said Daniel from the bed.

“Starving.”

* * *

Ted had lit a fire; it was that nippy. The mornings had started having that autumn chill to the air, the seasons on the turn.

They found an empty table, with cutlery wrapped in a dark green paper napkin and place mats with black-and-white etchings of the pub on the front.

“It’s only lamb pie tonight,” said Ted, bringing over two steaming plates. “My wife got a touch of the sniffles, so didn’t get around to doing the chicken.”

“Lamb’s perfect,” said Daniel as Cherry glanced up at the blackboard menu. It seemed the pub only served pie. Lamb pie, and on a good day, chicken pie. The chalk also declared there was beef pie, and she wondered what had happened to that.

“Beef’s all gone,” said Ted, catching her look, and went off to get their drinks.

She looked at Daniel, but he seemed to be charmed by the place and Ted’s no-nonsense attitude.

The background Welsh lilt of the locals added to the ambiance, and the pie was delicious, and the pub toasty with that lovely intimate feeling created by the warmth of a real fire, and the rain beating against the windowpane.

Out of London, Cherry felt more relaxed.

She was easily more sophisticated than these surroundings and there was no need to be on constant guard or check she was maintaining Kensington standards.

Daniel raised his glass and she clinked it.

“To a wonderful weekend,” he said, then paused and looked at her with something deeper than fondness, something more meaningful than affection. “To us. I’m very happy to have met you, Cherry.”

She met his eyes and smiled. That was exactly the sort of look she had hoped this trip would produce. “Likewise,” she said softly.

* * *