CHAPTER 47
We didn’t see that much of either my uncle or his trout for the rest of her stay, which can be fairly blamed on some of us having to work for a living, but over the next few months it was noticeable that unless Hywel had that friend of Sar’s with him, he was mostly on his own at the pub. At least, that was what I heard from Dad via Mam.

I was also getting regular little updates from Steph about Sergeant Price.

“She’s got taste, Elaine. Not a bad musician, either”

“Taste? Music?”

“Men, girl. I mean, she dragged two of them round to ours when we tried her at the music, and they were both very easy on the eye, but one of them, if it wasn’t for being married, oh yes!”

“You are a hussy, Steph”

“Nope, just a lech of refined sensibilities”

She laughed, and then took a second or two to form her next sentence. “That’s the thing, Lainey. She slipped up on the phone, and the one I sort of fancy overheard”

Before I could get anything out, half-formed suspicions of another Joe uncoiling in my mind, she shushed me, literally.

“I know what you’re thinking, but this is different. She’s known him ages, Geoff rates him as well. I trust his judgement; it’s usually spot on”

Something else was there in her tone, something dark, but she perked up again immediately.

“Anyway, they’re coming with us in August to Shrewsbury. Place I met my beloved, so you never know”

There I was, fresh from being lectured about interfering, hearing another woman effectively admitting to stirring things with the biggest spoon imaginable.

“What are you up to, Steph?”

“Er… Look, there is something there. I see it. Geoff sees it. I mean, once you get Annie out of work mode, get her relaxed, what she is is so bloody obvious I don’t know how she’s managed to stay the course. I’ll be honest…”

Once more she paused, and I heard a distinct catch in her breath. “Elaine, what she’s been through she should be dead. Simple as. She has more strength than I have, that’s for sure, but she’s nearly broken. Shit, I don’t think she’s actually got any wiggle room left. Reserves all gone, aye?”

I made myself laugh. “Your hubby will complain if I get you doing that, aye?”

“Oh god, that’s not just you, that’s her. Welsh as Llanfair PG, she is. It’s infectious. Anyway, need to go. Work in an hour”

“No problems there?”

“I have a team around me, Elaine. No; no problems”

We hung up, and I savoured that word. I missed my team dreadfully, and at the same time I knew they had to be left alone. They were something I had created, a difference I had made to the world, a change for the better. Arwel and Alice were almost a metaphor for them: let them fly free.

Life settled down to a steady grind of 9 to 5 Monday to Friday budget allocations work, playing Management Bullshit Bingo in innumerable meetings and somehow seeming to spend less time with my wife than I had when we were both on shifts rather than just her. The only let-up was managing another villa trip, this time with both children in tow. Actually, the way Kev behaved around his kids, perhaps I should say ‘all three’.

Angharad Roberts was gone when we returned, just a short note on the dining table thanking Vicky and Kev for their kindness. By the back door were two bin liners full of clothing, with another note asking for them to be delivered to a local charity shop. How deep was the commitment needed at that place? Needed or demanded? I had a vision of her becoming some sort of Chapel-flavoured nun, and that wasn’t how it was done in Wales.

As I stared at the bags, an arm went round my waist, but it was Vicky rather than my wife.

“She talked a little, Lainey. Just sometimes, usually when we were out at the park with Taz. She is…”

Vicky was groping for words, so I supplied them. “Mean-spirited, a bigot, a miserable two-faced cow?”

“Well, yes, but there were times, times she’d be looking at my girl and I think she was remembering hers. I’d catch a look, a little crack in her shields. I think she really misses Siân”

“Then why did she act the way she fucking did when we met? Sorry, shouldn’t swear”

“I don’t think she really has a choice, love. She has her principles, and can’t let them go”

“Are you really defending what she did? What she said?”

Vicky sighed and turned her gaze on some imaginary stain on the work top. “No. I couldn’t do that. But I really think she wishes things were different. If Siân hadn’t been the way she is, for example, if you’d been a man”

“She would still have found fault!”

Her eyes went to mine, tears hanging. “And how much of what she did and said was driven by that arsehole of a husband? Did you know he was fully biblical? No thicker through than his thumb, wasn’t it?”

Oh hell. Vicky wasn’t finished, though. “He even had sodding books about it! What to make the rods from, where to strike, how not to leave visible marks for the authorities to get upset about. Shit, Lainey, you’ve seen enough domestics. Did you really believe it was just knuckle-dragging thickos that smack their women about?”

She slapped her hand down on the work top in obvious anger, and then turned to stare hard at me again, the tears falling. “He had books on it, he had found bloody WEBSITES. It’s big in the States, Lainey. Christian fucking domestic discipline they call it. Traditional as, and Bible-sanctioned. I rather suspect it wasn’t just her ex that did it: I think it was a family sport. Her dad’s dead, though, so I can’t go round and put his bloody windows in. Remember that Essex girl joke about two black eyes? Told twice, wasn’t it?”

I stepped forward and she almost fell into the hug I offered. The tears were flowing well, and she simply held on to me for twenty or thirty seconds till she could find her voice again.

“I thought I had it bad, Lainey, with that one arsehole. Yes, he killed our baby, but, well, look what I have now. Who could ask for a better man than my Kevin? Two lovely kids, a man who would give me the world if he had it, and all he has ever asked in return is that I love him back. You’ve got just the same, except for the kids, and Angharad, well, what has she got? One moment of satisfaction with a slurry trailer. No family, no child. Nothing but her bloody religion, and look what that’s done to her!”

She held her silence again for a little while, then whispered into my breast.

“I really hope she finds some piece in that place, Lainey. I really do. I think… sod it, I KNOW that if we see her in a little while, she’ll be a different person. Sorry I went on so much. Sorry for the stupid tears”

I realised my wife had been absolutely right about her cousin: how could anyone know her and not love her? At the same time, I felt the anger that always lay so close to the surface simmering again. It was always men, men with a need to stand above and piss down on those below them. Not all of them, by any means, for my own extended family bore ample evidence that most men were nothing like Carwyn Roberts, or the Evans family, and I fought the anger down with a mental photo album of Tony and Dad, Arwel and Geoff, wondering how much of this crap was learned and how much of it was passed down genetically from arsehole to son and whether it mattered. The end result was the same.

Vicky whispered once more. “And I’m sorry about talking about you two and kids. I know what you want, so it wasn’t fair to say that. You can always share ours, yeah? Any time you want”

I squeezed her as hard as I could without breaking anything, long enough to frame my words properly.

“Siân and I have been making enquiries, love”

She pulled back so she could see my face. “What? Adoption?”

“Er, no. Our own”

“Oh! Ah, you were thinking of Kev, weren’t you? Does he know? Have you discussed this without me?”

“Vicky, my sweet, we haven’t discussed it with him because we aren’t looking at your hubby. We have someone else in mind. It’s Sar’s hubby, Tony, we’re thinking of. And he’s agreed”

“Oh wow! When are you…?”

“Nothing is decided yet, Vicky. I mean, we need to consider whether we’ll be doing this like synchronised swimmers, or in tandem, sort of thing”

She was hopping now, tears forgotten. “Synchro, of course! Ooh! I get to be an aunty!”

“Not strictly, girl”

“Who cares? Aunty Vicky, yay! Seriously, it will be great to hear my own name again. It’s always ‘Mam’ or ‘Mummy’ now, even from ‘im indoors”

“Oh dear. My parents were never like that, except when Mam was telling us off and threatening us with Dad”

“Was he---“

“No, he never did. I don’t remember him ever hitting me, nor Sam, aye? He just has a way of explaining the detail of what you’ve done wrong that makes you want to dig a hole and crawl into it. He can still do it to me”

“Sam?”

“Sar as was, aye?”

She nodded. “Lainey?”

“Aye?”

“Thanks. Thanks for an awful lot. If… if it doesn’t work with Tony, Kev will try. No--- I am not saying it like that. If you are happy, I will tell him about it, and I know my lover very well. He will say yes off his own bat. But not the traditional way”

I pulled a sour and disgusted face, we both laughed, and we steered the conversation away from shoals. Six months were to pass before Sarah gave me the news.

“The daft old bugger’s only gone and proposed to her!”

“And?”

“She’s said yes, of course. Can you tee up the cousins? We need to organise a hen night!”