CHAPTER 95
As he settled back down beside me, mug of tea in hand, Gemma called over.

“Oy! Not going to help put the tent up?”

Hr turned onto his side to face her, waving vaguely at our little camp.

“I do believe mine is already up, serf”

That was a moment that lifted my heart, as the shyest of my girls just turned to the young man beside her and shrugged.

“Could he get any smugger, love? Come on; let’s get it sorted. Any more tea on the go, Pat?”

Rachel and Emma hopped up with a grin to give their help, and in a very short time, we had another small dome erected, Gemma and Marty stowing their bedding and sundries. The tent wasn’t one I had seen before.

“Gem?”

“Yeah?”

“Where did you buy the tent? Looks like a decent one”

“We didn’t. Marty’s Dad offered us one, but when he got it out of the loft it was all smelly. We’d just put up the notices in the shop, about closing for a week, and your friends called by”

“Who was that?”

“Elf and Rockrose, I think they were. Had a van with all sorts of stuff in it, said to take what we needed and give it back when we didn’t need”

She held up a hand for me to wait, and reached into the var’s glove box.

“Nearly forgot! They gave us this for you”

It was an envelope, and it didn’t feel stiff in the way a card would have done. I opened it, to find a letter in a familiar hand.

Hiya, Sister Mine
Going to fly a kite here, but I suspect that you are on the first real holiday you have had since we said goodbye to your Mam and Dad, so I thought I would add a few thoughts.

First, it has taken you far too long to see what was right in front of you. Don’t fuck it up this time. We’ve checked him out, and he is sound, even if he is a straight. You’ve already had him on a bike, though, so there is hope for him. We’ve got eyes on both your place and his while you’re away.

Last bit of advice: that copper of yours, the hard cow. Watch her; she’s starting to crack. Got another nasty on her hands, and DO NOT TELL HER THIS but she is a sound woman, and I would rather deal with a copper I can understand than the usual shits. She might need some support soon, so you be ready to pay your obs, Sis.

This letter should have arrived with your man, so you make sure you fuck his brains right out tonight, but remember: leave some of his precious bodily fluids for other stuff. Go and climb your mountain, my love

R

I found my head shaking slowly from side to side, as Rosie’s class revealed itself to be greater than I could ever have aspired to. Frank was trying to read over my shoulder, so I just folded the letter away, falling back on the old standard “It’s about you, not for you”, before pulling off my socks rather than putting my boots back on. Barefoot, I stood and pointed at the car.

“You may have a tent, but there’s no bedding in it yet. Needs sorting!”

He grinned, rising to join me, and to my surprise, the bedding turned out to be a couple of duvets rather than another sleeping bag. Cheeky sod, but I could live with that sort of cheekiness. I caught a wistful look in Pat’s eye, but as soon as she realised I was looking her way, she smiled, shaking her head.

“I’m fine, Debbie. Plans for tonight?”

That threw me.

“Dunno. Big chip run? Frank?”

He was nodding.

“Sounds fine to me. Someone need to drive? Near a supermarket, the chippy?”

Alun called across from the far side of our little group.

“I know the way, Deb. Sort of traditional for me, isn’t it? And hello, whoever you might be, although Alicia has already told me”

Frank grunted something that sounded confused, and Alun laughed.

“These girls are like a coven, Frank. They know when to keep a secret, but everything else is like one of those internet things, viral? I’m Alun; my daughter Alicia. Say hello to the nice man, Alicia”

That girl looked at her father, open-mouthed.

“Dad, why are you talking rubbish?”

“Cause I can. Spent too long thinking it, didn’t I? Anyway, Frank, yes, there is a chippy and a supermarket, so if you fancy riding shotgun, we can cover both options. That do you?”

It seemed to suit Frank, and so a couple of hours later, we were all settled around a camping lantern as the daylight left us, beers and wine for the older people and a pile of chip papers and familiar cardboard boxes ready for the recycling bins. Whatever Frank and Alun had shared seemed to have delivered at least the start of some male bonding, and when Alun dragged out his guitar, several of the other campers joined us for an impromptu but very enjoyable singalong session.

No hangover the next morning, as we had opted for ‘refreshment’ rather than ‘wreckage’, but I had my own version of that morning after problem, as every single member of our own crew handed me grins, knowing looks and comments about my ability to walk any meaningful distance, the bastards. We kept it down to a much easier day, up Cwm Tryfan to the pass between Tryfan and Bristly ridge, then down past Llyn Bochlwyd and the circuit around Idwal that takes you to just under the Devil’s Kitchen. So much of that is on broad paths, and I will cheerfully admit that after a few more cheeky remarks, frank and I spent a lot of the walk holding hands.

My mind was wandering a little as we ambled, for while Rosie’s letter had been short and to the point, the points raised were valid ones. My first stay in the valley had been with Mam and Dad, as had the break in Scotland. My other trips up had mostly been with the girls, as a minder, in effect, or as an escape, running from rather than to. Here I was now, walking in a beautiful place, the air warm, even if the wind was being a bit of a sod, fair weather cumulus scudding past the tops as meadow pipits did their thing along with ravens, and a single common sandpiper shot zig-zagging across the surface of Llyn Idwal.

A beautiful place, lovely weather, and sharing it with the man I loved.

I stopped walking, just for a second. Where the fuck had that thought come from? The man in question stopped as my hold on his hand tugged him back, and looked back.

“You okay, Debbie?”

“Just thinking, love”

“Oh”

I smiled at him.

“Yes. Exactly. Now, tonight is the Spotted Cow, so it is music, and I think we can guarantee a lot of it will be in Welsh, so you have other duties to fulfil”

He burst out laughing.

“This is Gog Central, love! I can get about one word in three, and that’s when they are being sensible. Sensible for gogs, that is. Bloody weird accent! Come on; all down hill now, and there used to be a little tea place in the car park”

Three steps in, he whispered, “Yes I heard, and yes, me too. Shaping up to be the second best day of my life, this”

“Only the second best?”

“Aye. The best one was at a Rumney folk club”

I grinned.

“And not afterwards?”

“That, I do believe, was the same day, my love”

My soul may have been floating, but there was still a slog of a walk along the road back to our tents. Boots off, a classic mass-cook of stew and rice, the perennial fallback, and as Pat and I synchronised our loo visit, she took my arm.

“You have a good one there, Debbie. Girls have been gossiping, and sometimes they forget canvas isn’t as soundproof as bricks and mortar. Not going to say much…”

She stopped, turning me to face her.

“Deb, we have been through an awful lot together, and yes, I did work out what happened that night… Owen told me where the money went, and he told me what you said, and that is something that has stayed with me for years. You have given so much to others, including me, that I look at my life and, well…”

She took my shoulders, squeezing gently.

“I have been lucky, love. I found the best man possible, and I had years and years with him, until… Until. No children, not that lucky, but. Got all of these now, same as you, and I can now look back at him, at how we were, and you know where we went, and how we made our memories there. Had my life, I have, and I have seen you from such a young girl, playing with a pet lamb, and you have had your kids, but never, ever, what I had. Never that life companion. Helped me see how lucky I have been, so don’t you let this chance pass you by”

I took a little while to get my mouth working, but what it said wasn’t what I had intended.

“We said we loved each other today”

Pat’s mouth worked, before she found a grin.

“So why did you let me come out with all that bollocks, woman?”

I made it a hug.

“Because it wasn’t bollocks, was it?”

We were still hugging when we got back to the tents, and once more, that day continued to be one to file under ‘Life: how it should be lived’. We managed to squeeze as many people as possible into the minibus, Alun and Pat offering to drive the rest on the respective grounds of being a performer who needed to be sober, and of being elderly and so not on the pull. That last came with the broadest of winks to Frank, but I didn’t care. The day was getting better and better, and a small and cynical part of my mind was asking when reality would return.

Down to Bethesda, into the Cow, and the fruit of a phone call was a set of tables for our group. Alun did his usual approach to the MC for a floor spot, followed, to my astonishment, by Marty. I looked across at Gemma, and she looked even smugger than she usually did when her man was discussed.

“Got a good voice, has my beloved. Couldn’t end up with somebody unmusical, could I? Not with you for a Nana”

“You can stop that---ah, sod it. What’s he going to do?”

“Couple of Oysterband songs. Coal miner stuff”

“He nervous?”

She grinned.

“Shitting himself, Nana”

I looked at her, and while there was no way whatsoever she would ever be in the running to be described as ‘pretty’, she was there, the full Gemma, so clearly herself that I almost wanted to weep.

“You are happy, aren’t you?”

She grinned.

“Fuck, yeah! Who wouldn’t be?”

Her grin vanished, and her tone became far more serious.

“Marty and me, Debbie, we are going to get married. He’s asked, I’ve said yes, details are… I was going to say ‘details aren’t important’, but they are, and you know how I meant it. Just need to get myself sorted, yeah? Like Cathy?”

She suddenly laughed.

“Ah well, confession night, isn’t it? Debbie, I heard what you said to Frank when we were walking round that lake. About time, I say. He has changed my life, changed it so wonderfully, better than my dreams, and don’t even THINK of mentioning George North!”

I found myself smiling.

“You wouldn’t, then? If he was available?”

She shook her head.

“No. Because Georgie wouldn’t be standing behind you ready to ask your blessing”

I turned, and of course Marty was there, and I will skate over his sweet hesitance, but he was genuine, and all possible consideration of asking Gemma’s father could be summed up in the simple hope that he depart for the purpose of self-fulfilment of his sexual needs.

Or, as Gemma put it, “He can go fuck himself”

I turned away from the couple, as Marty seemed to need to show how much he was attached to Gemma, realising it was most certainly a day to savour. Alun was at the bar, Frank beside him, and there was a clear twitch from some local boy next to them. Fuck. I started to push my way over to them, the realised that Alun was laughing.

Frank said something in Welsh, and the local man almost sneezed up his entire pint as Alun laughed. Frank caught my expression, and waved a calming hand.

“Did you know that Alun here has been learning Welsh?”

I raised an eyebrow at Alun, and he spread his arms.

“My daughter loves this place, so I thought I’d try and be polite”

The local man waved in turn.

“Sorry, mate, but was the treiglad, ah? Mutation. Should have been llais, you did meddal, so instead of asking for three pints, we got three Arab women, sort of. Sorry for laughing, and nice to see someone being polite enough to have a go”

His tone changed.

“Fucking sais, aye? Not all of them. You’re with the old woman over there, ah? Proper walker, that one. Respect, ah?”

Alun shrugged.

“Yes, but I am Welsh, not English”

“Yes. But your Welsh is shite”

“Um”

“You know how to improve it, ah?”

“Tell me”

“Immersion, ah? Keep coming up here, find a local to help, buy them a pint…”

The laughter was mutual, and then the local man turned a lot more serious as he caught sight of me.

“I’ve seen you here before. Remember Owen, used to be landlord here?”

I nodded.

“Nice man. Knew his customers”

“Aye, he did. I’m Illtyd, by the way. Anyway, one night, years ago, we had a couple of arseholes in”

He said something in Welsh, and both Frank and Alun nodded. Illtyd grimaced.

“Aye, arseholes, the pair of them. Anyway, this couple comes in, lad goes up to order the drinks, and he’s English all through. Arseholes tell him to fuck off, but in Welsh, all smiles, ah? Anyway…”

His grin widened.

“Anyway, his girl steps up to the bar, and she asks how much is the order, just in our language, ah? Then she tells then both ‘Yes, I understood you, why don’t YOU fuck off?”

He chuckled at the memory.

“The two arseholes got barred, and the couple, they are regulars now. Like your friend over there, proper visitors coming to be IN the place, not just look at it, or buy a chunk of it and then lock it up most of the year. This a school group, then?”

The conversation seemed to be moving onto dodgier ground, so I smiled, making some anodyne comment about him being right, private group, after-school club, whatever, and dragged my two away before they could end up being recruited into the Sons of Glendower or whatever. Besides, it was floor spot time.

Alun was the first of ours to step up, and once again his choice of songs was something I didn’t recognise, though it went down well with the girls and the younger locals. He was followed by a local girl, whose harp seemed to live behind the bar, a couple who sang something in Welsh, and then it was Gemma’s man.

He was trembling slightly, and doing the over-explaining business to the letter.

“Hi. Marty’s the name. Not really done this before, but as I’m from Cardiff, you’ll have to come a long way to pay me back. If you want to leave, now’s the time. My fiancée’s idea, cause she thinks I can sing, but as she said yes today, her judgement’s going to be off”

Suddenly, he was grinning, as he waited for the cheers from my girls to die down.

“Yup! Asked today, she said yes, so what could possibly go wrong tonight? Couple of songs here, you should know the second one.

“It stands so proud, the wheel so still
A ghostlike figure on the hill
It seems so strange there is no sound
Now there are no men underground…”

His voice was a surprisingly rich baritone, and there was silence in the bar as he sang, the crowd fixed on the words. He only left a couple of seconds between the end of his first piece before starting the second, which I recognised as an old Byrds song. That one got the audience bellowing along to it, and when Marty sat down after his spot, his grin was of a size to match the applause he had received. Gemma gave him a kiss, in as public a way as could be imagined, which brought even more applause, and then the girl with the harp was at our side.

“Hiya! Dil, at the bar, ah? He was asking if you wanted to do another bit, after the break? He suggested a song, but wants me to play with you. Local thing, sort of, to go with your first two”

Marty smiled at her, but made sure the hand holding Gemma’s was fully visible.

“What’s the song, Miss?”

She laughed, pointing to his and Gemma’s joined hands.

“Wrong bus, Marty! The song? One called ‘A Miner’s Life’; tunes ‘Galon Lan’. Got the words in English, if you need them”

“I know the tune. Can I have a read first, Miss?”

“Enfys, and yes, I’ll bring them over. Keep it for the last spot, if you’re happy”

She was as good as her word, and once she had delivered the sheet of paper, I found Frank and Alun reading over Marty’s shoulder. Frank commented that he knew the words as well, Alun nodding in agreement, and so when the time came for that last performance, it was three men and a young woman on a harp, and bugger me if they weren’t just singing in unison but harmonising.

What a music night should be. Our only problem at its end was in detaching Maria’s attention from a certain girl who may not have been on the bus Gemma and I were riding, but was most certainly on hers. That would have been one complication too far for us.

My weeks in the hills were always jewels in my memories, but that particular holiday outshone nearly all of them.