Day Eleven (Thursday)
‘So, where are you off to today?’ Alan asked Edward, as they chatted amiably at breakfast.
As usual, Edward was down in good time and had his favourite seat in the window, where he could look out at the passing cars and people. There were many more cars than people. The bay road was long and only the hardy and fit walked it generally. The guesthouse had been quite quiet all week. In truth, that was how Edward like it best, with just a handful of other guests. He preferred that to the busier weekends, when the noisier families arrived. He really did feel like a resident now, although he realised his stay might be gradually drawing to its end.
‘I’m staying quite local, I think,’ Edward replied. ‘I want to have a look at Brynmill Park and take a few pictures of the lake perhaps. I used to walk through there on my way into college from the house I was living in during the last term of my second year. It will be quite nostalgic for me. I don’t think I’ve been back since then. I’ve pretty much forgotten what it’s like, except that there is a big lake on one side.’
‘We occasionally enjoy walks there, as it’s not too far away. It’s lovely and quiet, one of Swansea’s best kept secrets,’ Alan commented.
‘Like the Botanical Gardens,’ Edward suggested.
‘We go to a little coffee house on the corner afterwards,’ Alan explained.
‘Funnily enough, that’s exactly what I had in mind,’ Edward said. ‘I’ll probably have the dog with me too. Do you know if they allow dogs inside?’ Edward enquired.
‘As far as I know, as a lot of people go there before or after they’ve been to the park. Dogs wouldn’t be unusual’ Alan said. ‘So, who is this mysterious dog you’re looking after?’ he wondered.
‘She belongs to a bookshop owner I’ve befriended,’ Edward answered. ‘I’ve been taking the dog for walks as a favour, as she has no one else to do it for her. It doesn’t greatly inconvenience me. Beti, the dog, is very well behaved.’
‘That’s very kind of you,’ Alan commended Edward.
‘It’s the least I can do really,’ Edward responded. ‘The bookshop owner, Jill, is on her own there, and the dog stays in the shop with her, unless I can take her out.’
‘I expect she’s good company on your walks too,’ Alan observed.
‘She certainly is,’ Edward agreed, realising he’d missed the loyal company of Beti the previous day.
Edward had been less loyal. He hadn’t taken her out the day before, whilst he’d been off on his strange, solitary wanderings to the town of Neath. He’d try and make up for it today if he could.
‘So, how was Neath?’ Alan asked, changing the subject.
‘Actually, it was very nice and much more interesting than it’s given credit for. There are some new, independent businesses there these days,’ Edward replied.
‘Well, I think you’re the first of our guests to go there by choice,’ Alan laughed.
‘It’s got some hidden gems, like the castle and Victoria Gardens, and there are a few nice shops and cafés. If you find interest in small, market towns, it has plenty to look at. I’d happily go back,’ Edward said.
‘I think Gwen and I will stick to Swansea and the Gower,’ Alan confirmed. ‘We quite often drive through Neath. I don’t think we ever stop there.’
‘Perhaps you should. You may be pleasantly surprised,’ Edward suggested.
‘Maybe next time, just for you,’ Alan agreed, smiling.
After breakfast, Edward readied himself in his room for going out. He hadn’t spent a single lazy day there, just reading and watching television, as he could have done. Every day he’d done something. That would continue until he went home, he was determined. Life was too short for wasted time. That had been his general principle during his working life. It was the same in retirement.
Edward picked out another book to read, from the small pile he’d brought with him. It was another comparatively short one, The Country of the Blind and Other Science-Fiction Stories by HG Wells. He’d read all the English author’s well-known classics over the years and enjoyed them – The Time Machine, The Invisible Man and War of the Worlds. He’d never read The Country of the Blind, even though its title had always intrigued him. It was meant to have had a biblical origin, and there were various other historical versions, amounting to the same thing, but the quote it came from was generally credited to the Dutch, Renaissance philosopher, Erasmus. In the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is king. Edward had always liked that concept, although it was Edward’s understanding that HG Wells turned the idea on its head in his famous short story. He’d have to wait to find out, he supposed. It wouldn’t take him very long to read, and then he’d be starting yet another book, he imagined.
As always before leaving, Edward checked the weather forecast. Again, it was mixed. There would be some sunshine, but also clouds and the risk of rain showers. Edward had got very wet on his way back from Neath. A few rain showers he could cope with. It wasn’t too bad, as long as he didn’t end up wet to the skin. That seemed unlikely. Any rain that did fall was expected to be fairly superficial and not long lasting.
Of course, Edward wouldn’t head straight to the bookshop. He aimed to get there around mid-morning. First, he’d have to head into the shopping centre for a coffee and cake as usual and a few pages of his latest book. Edward walked down the Oystermouth Road on the beach side with a slight spring in his step. Was he walking a little quicker than he usually did? His legs and feet had hurt a bit during the first few days of his break, as he walked much further than he normally did. Perhaps he was getting used to it. Perhaps he was getting fitter. It no longer hurt so much. His legs felt stronger. He perhaps felt slightly healthier. The sea air of Swansea Bay was doing him some good. Perhaps it suited him better in some way than the airs of his Oxfordshire village. Edward headed straight for Meredith’s coffee shop. He wondered what treat she’d have in store for him today.
‘I’ve made a nice lemon drizzle cake,’ she told him, as he stood at the counter.
The thought of a slice of lemon drizzle cake certainly whetted Edward’s appetite and filled him with a mild sense of joy.
‘That sounds delicious,’ Edward said, approvingly.
‘I’ll bring it over, and a latte?’ Meredith asked.
‘Oh, yes please,’ Edward confirmed, passing her his money.
‘Another new book?’ she commented, as she placed his coffee and cake down before him.
‘I’m afraid so. I do read a lot,’ Edward said, almost as if it was something to be ashamed of. ‘I have time on my hands these days.’
‘What’s this one about?’ Meredith enquired, with a hint of suspicion in her voice.
‘I couldn’t really tell you yet. I’m just about to start it,’ Edward admitted. ‘I was attracted to the title. It’s based on a famous old saying. You’ve probably heard of the author, HG Wells.’
‘I have heard of him,’ Meredith said, her face suddenly lighting up.
She felt momentarily pleased with herself. Perhaps she knew more about classic fiction than she thought she did.
‘We studied The Time Machine at school,’ she remembered.
‘Very good. I expect this one to be not dissimilar, in style at least,’ Edward said.
Meredith then left Edward in peace. He wondered how many visits he’d already made to the coffee shop. He couldn’t quite recall. It must be six or seven easily by now. He’d only missed a few days. It could in fact be more than that. There might not be many more visits, however. It was Thursday and he’d been away eleven days. He’d have to return home at some point, perhaps this coming weekend. In the back of his mind, he had the vague notion that might be the right time to leave. It still wasn’t definite. He remained uncertain. He might stay longer if the mood so took him. He might hang around for another week. He could if he wanted. If he did, he might have to look at doing other things with his time. He might have to make trips further afield, to Cardiff and Newport, perhaps into West Wales towards Pembrokeshire, or inland to the Brecon Beacons. He could always hire a car. It would be no great expense for a man in his financial position. So far, he’d relied mainly on his own two feet to get about, with the occasional bus or train ride. It had always been his intention to keep things simple, to go back to basics. That was why he’d taken the train and not driven in the first place. He’d generally taken the train as a student, and as far as he could it had been his plan to do things the same way. He’d largely achieved that so far, and would continue to walk for the time being, whilst his destinations remained local.
‘Will I see you tomorrow?’ Meredith asked, when Edward brought his empty cup and plate back.
‘I expect so, though it could be my last time, at least on this visit. I may be going home at the weekend,’ Edward said, with a tinge of regret in his voice.
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ Meredith said. ‘You’ve become one of our regular and best customers.’
‘It’s not definite and I will be back to stay again in the future, I’m sure,’ Edward promised. ‘I won’t leave it so long this time. I’ll see you tomorrow anyway.’
‘I’ll see you then. I’ll have to make something special for you,’ Meredith said.
‘I can’t wait,’ Edward replied.
As on other days, having taken the coast road into the shopping centre, Edward took the inland route back to Jill’s bookshop, passing the myriad of takeaways, many Middle Eastern, along St Helen’s Road, before meandering through the side streets behind King Edward’s Road to the shop. Edward wasn’t quite certain in his own mind if he really planned to return to Oxford that weekend. Was it too soon? Had he already stayed too long? Perhaps he’d ask Alan and Gwen for their opinion that evening. They seemed like sensible, down-to-earth people, who’d give him good advice. Perhaps he’d consult Jill. She might have a take on the matter. She didn’t seem in the least surprised to see him when he walked into the shop.
‘Beti missed you yesterday,’ she said, by way of greeting. ‘I missed you too,’ she added.
‘And I missed you both,’ Edward said. ‘I got a train yesterday and I wasn’t sure about taking Beti on with me.’
‘She’d be fine,’ Jill said, nonchalantly. ‘I’ve taken her on trains a few times in the past.’
‘Another time then,’ Edward promised.
‘Where did you go to?’ Jill asked.
‘Only a short distance, one stop to Neath,’ Edward said.
‘Why did you go there?’ Jill enquired, looking slightly confused by Edward’s unusual choice.
‘Why not? Just to look about really. Actually, I found it an interesting, old town, with its own unique character. It wouldn’t be for everyone, but I find places like Neath quite fascinating,’ Edward explained.
‘Where are you going today?’ Jill continued.
‘I thought I’d have a look at Brynmill Park. I used to walk through it going to college as a student. It will be nice to go back, to see if it’s changed at all. I thought I’d get a bite to eat and then bring Beti back after,’ Edward said.
‘Not going too far then,’ Jill commented.
‘Does that sound all right?’ Edward asked.
‘It sounds perfect. It’s a nice park. Beti likes it there. She probably knows her way around by now,’ Jill said, jovially.
‘She can show me then,’ Edward laughed, as he took hold of Beti’s lead.
‘I’ll make you a cup of tea when you return,’ Jill promised.
‘I look forward to it,’ Edward said, as he led Beti out of the shop and up the road.
From the bookshop, Edward walked to the end of King Edward’s Road. He was saddened to observe another pub he used to drink at had now been converted into accommodation. It was a sign of the times, he reflected. Pubs were closing everywhere. Students didn’t go out quite as much perhaps as they once had done. In Edward’s day, students drinking both at lunchtime and in the evening had helped to keep the local pubs going. It was where they normally met up as soon as lectures and tutorials had finished. There had been no all-day drinking back then, however. Licensing laws had forced pubs to close in the afternoon, before opening again for the evening session. It had been a case of getting a few pints down before three, and then resuming at around six. It had been possible of course to go to an off-licence in between, and sometimes Edward and his friends did that. He rarely turned down the opportunity for a drink if it was offered to him.
The pubs around King Edward’s Road had once overflowed with spectators flocking in their droves to watch matches at St Helen’s Rugby and Cricket Ground. It no longer attracted the crowds it once had. That in turn had a knock-on effect on the quantity of pints consumed in the local pubs on match days. As a result, many pubs that had been there forty years earlier hadn’t survived to the present day. Edward crossed over by the rugby ground and continued with Beti on her lead along Bryn Road. He’d never lived there, but other friends had during Edward’s time in Swansea. It had been a popular place to rent a room or get a place in a shared house. At the end of Bryn Road, Edward turned right into Brynmill Terrace, which ran adjacent to the eastern edge of Singleton Park. Edward remembered Byrnmill Terrace as being quite a steep road, which took longer to walk than logically it should have done.
Eventually, Edward emerged by the corner coffee shop, where he planned to have his lunch later, and the bottom access to Brynmill Park. It was quite narrow at its entrance. This was deceptive, however. It was much bigger than it appeared at first sight. Edward led Beti along the path, passing neatly tended, ornamental flower beds on either side. Edward suddenly had a flashback to a winter many years before, when he’d taken photographs of fallen snow, blanketing the park’s trees and vegetation. Snow had been a rare occurrence in Swansea. In one year only whilst he’d been there, it had snowed quite heavily. Edward remembered it being late January, shortly after he’d returned from his Christmas holiday. Lectures had been cancelled for the day. Instead, Edward and Angela had headed to their nearest park, to take pictures for posterity and to record the moment. Being back in the park, Edward was struck by a wave of nostalgia that almost knocked him over.
He recalled he’d once come across the photographs many years later, when doing a bit of sorting out in the house. He and Angela had looked so young in them, little more than children. The pictures had seemed so tiny and dated, compared to more modern ones. They looked like they were from another era or lifetime. They were from another century, Edward reflected. All that really was so long ago. Angela was dead now. She was just nineteen or twenty then, with her whole life and her whole future ahead of her. They’d spent that future together. Now it was over. Edward resolved to find the photographs again when he got home. He’d take them out to examine again. He’d take a few now to see how the park had changed. It didn’t seem all that different to him. The path he and Beti were walking seemed just as it had when Edward had walked it to and from the university campus. He mainly recalled hurrying along in the early morning, keen to get to lectures on time, having cut things a little fine. No doubt, he’d been up late drinking. That was usually the case. It had been most days of the three years he’d spent in the city. That was how things were for students in those distant times.
Eventually, the park began to widen out. A huge expanse of water lay to Edward’s left. It suddenly came into view. Edward understood it had once been a reservoir, providing water for the city’s population. During the reign of Queen Victoria, it had formally been opened as a public park and open space, the first of its kind in the city. It was strange to think that such a huge volume of water existed there, as it was virtually hidden from the road that ran alongside the park. The trees that lined the water’s edge kept its presence a local secret. Gradually, the path meandered round to the left, following the contour and outline of the lake. There were benches at the top end. Edward sat with Beti to rest. He looked out across the gleaming, watery surface. It was an impressive sight, reflecting the sun’s orange rays back into Edward’s eyes. Swans and ducks skimmed about, looking for insects and other small creatures to eat.
Edward and Beti continued their way round. Edward occasionally paused, to take a picture or two on his phone. He imagined the texts and messages from Alice were continuing to build up, but he had no wish to check them. One day, he would, one day. At regular points, where the path opened out to reveal the full expanse of water, there were more benches to sit and enjoy the view. At one point, they passed a small kiosk selling drinks, snacks, and ice creams. Edward didn’t stop for one. It would soon be lunchtime. He’d eat then. He’d give Beti something too.
The park reminded Edward of the many times he’d taken Victoria and Henry to parks back in Oxford when they were children, in those carefree, joyous days when Angela was still alive. At this moment, Victoria would be busy at her public relations job in London, Edward imagined. Henry would be on his travels somewhere. Edward didn’t see enough of them anymore, not as much as he’d have liked. Victoria was too like him. She was anxious to get on and make a name for herself in her chosen profession. Henry was a wanderer, a bit of a lost soul, in truth. He’d been thirteen when he’d lost his mother, Victoria fifteen. They’d both put on brave faces for their father. It was the British way, stiff upper lip, and all that, to suffer in silence. They’d all done that, but it had been hard. They’d soldiered on as best they could and rarely spoke about it, each trying to come to terms with their own personal sorrow and devastation in their own individual way, but always failing.
It had probably hit Edward hardest. He had to keep going for the sake of the children. He had to look after them. Even now, he was still coming to terms with what had happened and how fate had cruelly cut short their family happiness. Perhaps Henry was also, he now realised. His son had turned inwards and internalised his feelings afterwards. He’d gone quiet for months, even years. Perhaps he was still working through it. His wandering would eventually cease when he finally achieved acceptance. Perhaps Victoria’s answer was to throw herself into work. Perhaps she worried the same fate of early death lay in store for her. She needed to do things now before it was too late. The pair were very different, but Edward loved both his children. He wished he saw more of them. He resolved to do that too on his return.
Edward was in a mood of quiet, melancholic reflection, when he finally led Beti out of the park. Some welcome nourishment at the coffee shop wouldn’t go amiss and would no doubt cheer him. He ordered a sandwich and a flapjack and a coffee to go with it. He hadn’t forgotten a tea was waiting for him back at Jill’s bookshop. Beti sat quietly at his feet. He stroked her a few times, telling her what a good girl she was. She was a good girl indeed. When his food arrived, Edward broke a few pieces off for Beti, which she quickly devoured. He also gave her a few of the treats he always carried in his pocket when he took her out. Edward continued to sip his coffee, after finishing his food. He looked about. It was a nice place, one he’d be more than happy to come back to, if he ever visited the park again. He had a feeling he would do. Edward read a few pages of HG Wells, before emptying the last drops from his cup and continuing on his way.
Beti left with him obediently, as Edward continued up Alexandra Terrace into Rhyddings Terrace. In Gwydr Crescent, he again paused for a moment outside his old house. It brought the memories flooding back and he felt another tinge of heavy nostalgia. Sometimes, the memories seemed to weigh him down. Other times, he gladly embraced them. Overall, they gave him a warm feeling. They were also tainted with a slight sense of loss, as he recalled days he’d never get back. Putting his memories aside, Edward led Beti down Rhyddings Park Road and eventually back to the bookshop. Jill already had the kettle on. When it had boiled, she handed Edward a cup. She didn’t inform him it was vegan milk. It then struck Edward that during all his visits he’d never once seen another customer.
‘They see you coming and run away,’ Jill joked. ‘No, I do have them. I just need a few more. It’s a lot of the same ones, a bit like you. I have regulars who come back time and again, always looking for that special, old book they can’t find anywhere. I try to keep lists of what they’re after in case any ever turn up. Occasionally they do.’
‘And I thought I got special treatment,’ Edward said, feigning a sense of hurt feelings.
‘You do. You’re the only one who gets a cup of tea,’ Jill told him.
‘Glad to hear it,’ Edward said, sitting down.
‘So how was she?’ Jill asked.
‘Perfect, as always. We had a lovely time,’ Edward replied.
‘Have you been to Clyne Gardens yet?’ Jill enquired. ‘It’s another place Beti likes to walk.’
‘It’s on my list. In fact, I’m thinking of going there tomorrow, if it’s another fine day. There would be no point going in the rain,’ Edward said.
‘I think it’s meant to stay like this until Sunday, so you should be OK,’ Jill said.
‘Would you like me to take Beti with me?’ Edward asked, knowing the answer before he’d even posed the question.
‘If you’re offering,’ Jill answered.
‘I’ll pick her up at a similar time then,’ Edward confirmed.
‘That will be lovely,’ Jill said.
‘You know I may have to go home at the end of the weekend,’ Edward said, raising the prospect cautiously, as if it were a slightly delicate matter.
In the short time they’d known each other, he and Jill had grown quite close in their own funny way, despite being very different people. Edward now considered her a friend. Jill paused for a moment, before responding to Edward’s announcement.
‘That’s a pity. Beti will miss her walks. But of course, you have to go back sometime. We knew you would eventually. It’s just we’ve both got used to seeing you most days. It won’t be quite the same without you,’ Jill said, with a touch of sadness.
‘I know. It won’t be the same for me either,’ Edward admitted. ‘It’s not definite anyway. It’s just a possibility. I may stay longer. It’s something I have to weigh up over the next day or two. There’s a lot to consider. I promise I’ll come back soon whatever happens. Hopefully, Beti won’t have forgotten me.’
‘I’m sure she won’t. I won’t forget you either,’ Jill said. ‘I didn’t realise how much I’ve missed having someone to talk to, until you turned up.’
Edward left the bookshop with much to think about. It was something he could chat about further with Alan and Gwen when he shared a drink with them later than evening. Perhaps they’d have some great wisdom to impart on his situation. Perhaps they’d know when it was a good time for him to leave and confront Alice. It was now Thursday. He had at least two more full days in Swansea and perhaps Sunday morning and afternoon. He had to make the most of the time. It was only right to mention it to Jill. He was anxious not to feel like he was suddenly leaving her in the lurch. He needed to give her some warning about his eventual departure.
