CHAPTER 18
I was on another trip out to Bethesda around two years later when I got a serious surprise. The way time was flying was more than enough of a shock to start with, but then I was getting used to that as both Enfys and little Davvy seemed to change markedly on a weekly basis.

Kul and his boy were unavailable that weekend, so it was just me who loaded the bike for the run up to the bunkhouse. The forecast wasn’t the greatest, but I didn’t care. Sheffield was fine in its own ways, and the climbing was perfect for a thug like me, but I had always been a sucker for the call of real mountains.

The ride across wasn’t too bad, although my gloves were dripping, and I stood beside the bike as it ticked its heat away, stretching my back after I had doffed my lid and unzipped my jacket. Keith was there in a few minutes to help dump my bedding in the dorm, and then Penny with my little girl.

“Hiya, Enfys! How’s you?”

“Unca Mike! Menig! Got losyn?”

I knew both of those words, and shook my head as I handed her my soaked gloves for the ritual.

“Sorry, love. Not this time”

“No! Got losyn! Me!”

I realised she was waving a bag of jellies at me, and mentally slapped myself.

“What’s best?”

She said something I couldn’t follow, and Pen called out, “She says the coke bottles are the best, Mike”

I dipped a hand into the bag, only taking one ‘bottle’ so that Enfys could have more of what she liked, and after she had trotted off with my gloves, I raised an eyebrow to my friend.

“You all living totally Welsh now, then?”

She shrugged, said something else in Foreign, and grinned.

“Got to be done, love. Leaving the L-place well behind, like we said”

I laughed and shrugged simultaneously.

“Best thing to do with the place. Be a bit antisocial to nearby towns to nuke it. Anyway, what plans do we have? Getting a bit wet for serious stuff”

“Ah, club tonight, then see what the morning brings. Keith fancies a trip to Tremadog if it’s wet up here. Tends to stay drier down there. If it stops up here, he fancies exploring Craig Aderyn”

“Where’s that one?”

“By the hydro pipe down from Cwm Dyli. Bit obscure, but supposed to be a nice slab. Now, Enfys wants to help you lay out your bag”

Before I could argue, she held up a silencing hand.

“When children offer to help, best let them. Anyway, I do believe we may have a surprise for you tonight”

“In what way?”

“Wait and see, you impatient bugger. Enfys! [Welsh stuff]”

That summed up so well her utter commitment to making a new life for what was now a true family, and I had a sudden moment of utter loss. Despite her confidence issues, in the end my Caro had been at least as strong, in her own way. Hold it together, lad. You’re in company.

Tea was already brewed, and Enfys offered me the biscuit barrel, needing both hands to hold it. I had a sudden thought.

“Keith?”

“Yes, mate?”

“Folk club tonight?”

He nodded.

“As Pen and I really fancy a decent pint tonight, and we assume you do, it’s going to be too late for her and Davvy, so this time we’ve got a babysitter due, local girl. That’s who the other biccies are for”

“What other biccies?”

“The ones Enfys didn’t offer you because she’ll be eating half of them herself, no doubt. Anyway, Galadriel will do the two of them the pizzas we’ve left in the fridge, and we can eat at the Cow”

“Galadriel? Really?”

It was Keith’s turn to shrug.

“We did say this place was a sort of hippy colony. Her middle name’s even worse, so don’t ask”

I shook my head, settling into one of the armchairs, quickly gaining a passenger as Enfys clambered up into my lap for a cuddle, still clutching her bag of sweets, but thankfully without my gloves. Pen called out in more Welsh, from which I picked out the words ‘losyn’ and ‘pizza’. That exchange at least I could work out: if you don’t put the sweets away, you’ll get no pizza.

The bag went into a drawer, a little girl went upstairs for ‘Jimjams’, apparently the same term in Welsh, and I popped out to switch from leathers to jeans. When Galadriel turned up, she was reassuringly normal, bringing with her a small backpack of homework. After a quick confirmation of what was clearly the ‘usuals’, once again in Welsh, we each hugged Enfys in turn before setting off for the Cow. Keith matched his steps to mine.

“Got a surprise for you this evening”

“Penny said. Hint would be nice”

“Nope. Just asking you to keep an open mind. I know that’s who you are, what you are. Pen and I have some new friends, that’s all. And that is actually the real reason we haven’t got the kids with us”

I had to laugh at his comment about friends, as I had met so many of them the first time I had come up, along with Kul, his boy and a truckload of furniture, and Keith clearly read my mind.

“No. Not quite like that. You’ll understand when we get there, but this time, tonight… Just go with the flow for now, please”

“Got me worried now, mate”

“Ah, nothing to worry about, really. Just play nicely. Hiya, Nansi! [Welsh stuff]”

Nansi finished locking her door, smiled at me and wagged a finger at Keith.

“Babysitter’s with him. And I know this one, and I also know he’s linguistically challenged, so stop showing off. Hi, Mike. Your mates not with you this time?”

“Not this time, no. Kul’s got some big family thing on over in Doncaster. Something about feeding folk. They all get together and set up a sort of Sikh soup kitchen for the homeless. Or is that a curry and samosa kitchen? Anyway, busy. Just me this time”

“And you brought the rain. Very uncivil of you”

I spotted the twitch to her lips just in time, and she waved a hand at Keith.

“Vic’s down the Cow already sorting a table for us, which was what Mister Practise-my-Welsh over there was asking. Gets busy on a club night, especially if you want to eat”

We carried on down the hill to the pub, and yes, Vic was there at a table, the bar meals menu to hand. Illtyd was at the bar, Owen behind it, and everything suddenly felt familiar and comfortable. I hadn’t known these people that long, in real terms, but they seemed to have taken me as I was. More importantly, despite the reputation of that area, they had welcomed my friends. Illtyd said something in Welsh to Keith, whose answer contained the word ‘Galadriel’, and Illtyd performed a classic eye roll before turning back to me.

“At least you have a sensible name, Mike. Could almost be Welsh, ah? Anyway, I’d go for the steak and kidney pie tonight. Good, it is. Floor spot? Me that’s doing the compere thing tonight, it is”

“Got room for a song or two? I doubt you’ll have heard them, but good chorus stuff. Industrial songs, er, ah?”

“Second half, then. Let you fill your face first. Guest’s another English fiddler”

“Thanks”

I went for the pie, as advised, and in a moment of instant generosity I paid for all five meals. Sod it: the Hiatts were doing all the rest of my food for the weekend, as well as giving me a bed and occasional loan of a little girl (return unbroken, in original packaging if possible), so it was nothing over the top. I was indeed feeling relaxed, and the first pint of Robinson’s helped.

The first floor spots went down just as well as the pint and the food, and it wasn’t until the third performer that I realised we still had two spare seats at our table, a couple of raincoats laid over the backs to mark them as taken, rather like the proverbial German beach towel. Just before the guest was due on, a short and very fit-looking man put his hand on one of the chairs.

“These ours, Keith?”

“Yes, mate. You lost her?”

“Nope, just her usual silliness with pots of tea. She’s in the ladies’. Anyone need a refill?”

Keith raised his almost empty glass.

“Popes and bears? Who’s driving?”

“Can we be cheeky tonight?”

Pen snorted with laughter.

“You parked there already?”

“Er… yeah. Couldn’t agree whose turn it was to be designated driver, especially with who’s playing. Too cheeky?”

She grinned.

“Don’t be silly. Now, don’t think you’ve met Mike, our friend from that place we lived…”

“…that mustn’t be named?”

“That’s the one. He’s moved away, though. Now lives in Sheffield”

“Oh! Bloody good climbing there, lucky man. We’re stuck in Surrey, near Gatwick. Anyway, drinks?”

We gave him a list, and as he went over to the bar, I realised I hadn’t caught his name. I looked back to the table just as Penny’s gaze lifted and a smile broke out.

“Here she is! Hiya, you, and yes he has asked, and you already know the answer, so he’s getting you a pint”

I was sat in front of a pillar, which made it difficult to turn, but I managed it just as a long arm placed a fiddle case onto the table, and a tall woman settled into one of the two seats.

Woman. Or not. My mind was screaming in confusion. Tall; ginger pony tail. Fiddle.

On the other hand, breasts. More importantly, a smile that reached eyes and voice.

Penny made the introductions, properly this time.

“Mike Rhodes, one of our best mates. Best mate indeed, when we all lived in That Place That Begins With An L. Mike, these two are Steph and Geoff Woodruff, and all the jokes have already been made”

I looked sharply at Keith, and he nodded back, just as sharply.

“Yes, mate. Same person. How’s it go, Steph? Same person, just better understood?”

She nodded, just as sharply.

“Aye, exactly. Mike, you have an odd expression on your face, so I am going to make an unnecessary guess. You met me before? Oh, thanks, love. Need this”

‘Geoff’ was handing out the drinks, and I turned slightly to accept mine, my eyes having temporarily lost the battle to correlate sight and memory. I took a long drink from my pint as Geoff slid onto the seat next to… her, casually draping one arm over… her shoulder as he raised his glass.

“Cheers, all! We ate at the tent, but we’ve got a load of extra brekkie stuff for the morning. Not a veggie, are you, Mike?”

“Er, no. Um”

“Ah. How do you know my lovely wife here? Nothing to worry about; just like the air clear”

I took some slow breaths as I worked on my perceptions.

“I remember seeing her here a few times. Climbing and fiddle playing”

He gave his… My mind clicked into gear. I had managed with John and Hal, and I was a bloody adult, after all. He gave his wife a quick look, and me a quick “Ah”, before she started her own explanation.

“Back before we met then, love. Told you what I was like back then, didn’t I?”

As he grimaced and nodded, she turned directly to me, her eyes startlingly green, with brown centres, but clear and in the there-and-then rather than the thousand yard and year stare I had seen in the past.

“Mike, I was in a very bad place back then. Did some stupid things. Got drunk a lot”

I found myself getting angry, for some reason.

“Stupid things like soloing Tennis Shoe when probably still pissed from the night before?”

She reached up to take Geoff’s hand, holding it to her shoulder, murmuring a reassurance to him.

“Yes. Bloody stupid things. All in the past now. All I needed to do was find someone to help me see the way out, and I was very, very lucky there. And no: it wasn’t Geoff, but he was there for me just when I needed him. Now, don’t want to be rude, and it is rude talking over the music. We are sharing the bunkhouse tonight, if that is your bike there. Jimmy’s due on, and we have all night to talk, if you want. Sup up and listen in, and sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable”

I could argue with none of that, so I settled down to listen to another ‘name’ act, a fine fiddler who was also a ‘professional Geordie’, and who seemed to know the two newcomers. I did my best to settle myself down and go with the music, and that worked up to the half-time break, when Jimmy (Kerr) came over to hug Steph properly. He slipped past her to the bar, and Penny grinned once more.

“He’s got the separate bedroom in the bunkhouse, Mike. Now, what are you doing in your spot?”

“Ah, two of Graeme One’s. ‘Brickmaking’ and ‘Chemical Worker’s’. I mean, I know the second one isn’t, but the first one, well, you know what I mean”

Pen turned to Steph to explain.

“Lad who was sort of leader at our old folk club, Graeme Meek. Great songwriter, and did original trad stuff, if you see what I mean, all about the local area. Lots of clay pits and brick works there. Other song’s from Teesside, by Ron Angel. It was a club tradition to sing it each session”

I realised what she was doing, as she talked down my confusion with excess detail, and all too soon, Illtyd was bilingually demanding my presence in the little stage area. I saw the little fiddler staring at me, Steph whispering in his ear as his eyebrows lifted, and he shouted out to me as I waited for Illtyd to give the word.

“How, bonny lad…”

I puzzled out the rest as meaning something like “Do you want accompaniment with that song?”

Why not? I nodded and turned back to the room as Illtyd finished introducing me. I took a little bow, and began.

“First, a song from a friend of ours. That’s me and the Hiatts, that is. Then another from the North-East of England. First one’s about hacking clay out of wet pits to make bricks, and there is a chorus”

They were in good voice, and as I finished the altered final chorus, “And there’s no more work and there’s no more pay, it’s a hard life not working in the clay”, they gave me a decent round of applause.

Jimmy stepped up beside me, fiddle in hand, accompanied by Steph with her own and Geoff on what looked like a bouzouki or octave mandolin. Jimmy simply said, “Gie’s the first line, just that, so we can get the key, like”

I replied with “And it’s go, boys, go, they’ll time your every breath”, to a shout of recognition from someone other than the Hiatts, and Jimmy just said “Aye, that’s canny”, and we were off.

I could hardly hear myself by the time the final chorus was bellowed out, and while I took the applause as I made my way back to the table, the other three just carried on into Jimmy’s second set.

Keith put a hand on my shoulder.

“I know, mate, but, well, like ripping a plaster off. Lots to talk about, but not now. Just enjoy the evening; talk later”