Day Eighteen (Thursday)
‘Thanks again for a lovely evening,’ Jill said to Edward, over breakfast.
‘It was nice, wasn’t it?’ Edward agreed. ‘Hopefully we can do it again sometime.’
‘If you’re paying,’ Jill joked. ‘I noticed it was quite expensive, and it will be my turn next time, I suppose.’
‘If I choose somewhere expensive, I should pay,’ Edward insisted. ‘You can treat me at the pub sometime if you like. I’m not short of a bob or two. I got quite a hefty golden handshake when I retired.’
It was quite hefty indeed. Jill would probably have been shocked at exactly how much it was. Of course, Edward had earned his company many more times that over the years, as well as making himself a significantly rich man in the process. He’d been told he well and truly deserved it, by his appreciative bosses. It was more money than many would perhaps see in a lifetime. It wasn’t as if Edward even needed it. He consoled himself with the thought that in all likelihood half would probably go to Alice. It was also the first small indication he’d given to Jill that he wasn’t exactly hard up. Perhaps she was beginning to suspect as much.
‘This evening I’ve got a meeting of the book club I’m a member of,’ Jill announced. ‘Why don’t you join us? You can make a case for George Orwell, JG Ballard or Kurt Vonnegut being the greatest English-speaking writer. We can all tell you you’re wrong and it’s Dylan Thomas,’ Jill laughed.
Now Edward had taken his first few tentative steps towards writing poetry, she could be his Caitlin Thomas and he could be her Dylan. Was there something of the Caitlins in Jill? Like Caitlin, Jill was a bit chaotic, but not as volatile and belligerent as Dylan’s wife had a reputation for being. Theirs had been a stormy marriage by all accounts. Edward’s relationship with Jill was calmness personified, if indeed it was a relationship. He wasn’t truthfully sure exactly what it was. It was a friendship of two mature people, he imagined. That was probably the best way to describe it. He still hadn’t got it precisely worked out in his own head. More importantly, he remained unsure where it was going and where it would end up.
‘I’d forgotten you were a member of a book club,’ Edward remarked. ‘Though you did mention it once, come to think of it.’
‘It’s all very casual. There are only six of us. We take it in turns to meet in each other’s houses. They’re coming here tonight. They like to meet in the bookshop, as it gives the club more atmosphere and resonance than meeting in someone’s kitchen or front room.’
‘I can see that. It’s the perfect setting for a book club,’ Edward observed. ‘What book or books are you presently reading?’
‘We’re discussing Salman Rushdie’s latest novel. It’s good, but to be honest it’s quite long and I’m finding it slightly hard going,’ Jill admitted.
‘I have a copy of The Satanic Verses somewhere at home, I believe, but I’m not really familiar with his work,’ Edward confessed.
It was the only book by Salman Rushdie he was sure he had. He’d probably only bought it because of the religious controversy its publication had caused at the time, leading to death threats to its author. Edward had never actually got round to reading the book, however. He made a mental note to do so when he returned to Oxford, or perhaps he might read one of the less controversial ones, the one Jill was reading for example.
‘The good thing is we’re all allowed to bring something else along that we’re reading just for fun, to share with the group,’ Jill continued.
‘What will you take?’ Edward asked.
‘I don’t know. Something light probably, a whodunnit perhaps or something random from the shelves of the shop. I’m actually rereading Jane Austen at present, but they’ll all be familiar with that, so there’s no real point taking it,’ Jill explained.
‘I need to start a new book,’ Edward said. ‘I may take a look at what we’ve got in the classic literature section. Don’t worry, I’ll pay for any I take,’ Edward assured her.
‘You really don’t need to. We are business partners, remember,’ Jill reminded him.
‘I wouldn’t want you to be out of pocket,’ Edward protested.
‘Anyway, are you coming tonight?’ Jill asked. ‘We’ll probably go for a quick drink after.’
‘I’d love to, but I can’t tonight,’ Edward said enthusiastically, whilst keeping some minor reservations about attending to himself. ‘I was thinking I should pop in on Alan and Gwen at the guesthouse and see how they’re doing. I’ll be sure to go next time. How often do you meet?’
‘At least once a month, sometimes every fortnight,’ Jill answered. ‘We’ll set a date for the next one at the end of the meeting tonight.’
‘Definitely count me in for that,’ Edward said.
‘I’ll warn them to expect you.’ Jill said. ‘They’re a bit of an odd bunch, like me probably, but nice in their own different ways.’
‘I look forward to meeting them,’ Edward said, graciously.
He spent the rest of the morning beavering away in the bookshop. He checked the emails, answered a couple of phone calls, and even served a few customers. The rest of the time he spent gradually cataloguing and pricing up the unsorted books. He now had many titles on his spreadsheet, all in alphabetical order of course. He was also endeavouring to keep them cross referenced by subject. He wanted to at least have some idea of the stock they carried. At present, they still had little idea what they had on the shelves, except by looking. The customers could do that for themselves.
Jill came down to take over from him at lunchtime. Edward had a few errands to run in town. He offered to take Beti with him, so she’d have her daily walk. Jill readily agreed. It would be good for Beti to get out in the fresh air. Edward stopped at the vegan coffee shop on the way, to pick up a couple of baps. This time, he chose vegan bacon ones, as well as a cake and a takeaway coffee, to have for his lunch on the way. He bought two baps, as he was certain Beti would want some, just as Jill had done. He wondered if the dog would be able to tell the difference between that and real meat. He’d slowly got used to it. He imagined Beti would do. She’d already had a small taste of vegan sausage, he remembered, but no pretend bacon. It would be a first for both of them. So far, Jill had resisted the temptation to feed her dog a vegan diet, at least as far as Edward knew. It was just him she seemed intent on turning into an unlikely vegan.
Edward had intended to pop into the offices of the local evening newspaper, but it appeared the ones he remembered from his days as a student were now closed. He had found another address in the High Street, but it was unclear simply from googling whether they were in fact open. Instead, he found a telephone number to ring, that he hoped would put him directly through to their advertising department. Edward wanted to place an advert. If it was a success, he’d place another one. He was put through to someone and he gave them a rough outline of what he wanted. Regarding presentation and logos etcetera, he explained they didn’t really have any and he was happy to be guided by their design team. The person he spoke to promised to put something together and email it over for approval. Hopefully, it would be a pleasant surprise for Jill, not that she was a great reader of the local newspapers. Edward would have to ensure she read that one.
Edward had just about reached the main shops, by the time he finished his telephone conversation. He then headed to a small, local printers. He recalled passing several on the main road that led down from the Uplands into the shopping centre, before joining the Kingsway via a narrow side street. Edward went to the first of those. He hoped they’d be able to do what he was after. It was reassuring to know he at least had a back-up plan and other options, if for some reason they couldn’t manage what he needed doing, though he didn’t foresee it being a problem. He simply wanted some flyers drawn up, that they could distribute to local libraries, tourist information centres, the museums and art gallery, anywhere that would have them really. He was thinking of having a thousand printed, although he realised this might be too many. The additional cost compared to five hundred wasn’t really that much. He might just as well keep it at a round thousand. The person he spoke to at the printers was accommodating and agreed to design a simple flyer for his perusal and consideration. Edward left his contact details, so they could continue to liaise on the matter.
His final port of call was a discount furniture shop, where he ordered some basic units, suitable for the storage of books. He arranged to have them delivered. If nothing else, they’d be a small gift from himself to Jill. He also ordered one slightly grander bookcase. In his mind, he pictured it housing those few rarities and special editions they had, which over time he planned to add to. One of the things he’d kept an eye open for in the charity shops were interesting first editions. He knew if he could find the right ones, their value over time would only increase. Customers paid a fortune for scarce books by certain exclusive authors, he’d observed.
As Edward completed his various tasks, Beti dutifully trotted along at his side. She was never any trouble. Mostly, she followed him into shops without anyone even being aware of her presence. Edward was reluctant to leave her tied up outside. He knew not all shops welcomed dogs, but Edward possessed a presence and an air of authority that meant he could go about his business virtually unchallenged, in almost anything he did. He had a look of natural correctness and superiority about him, even if he didn’t intend to. It seemed to give him permission to do almost as he wished. Righteousness was on his side. As a result, even in premises that weren’t keen on dogs, Edward was never once asked to take Beti out. He himself recognised the unjustness of the situation. He was aware that if a homeless person entered the same shops, with some flea-bitten mutt, they’d almost certainly be asked to leave.
Edward took the bay road back, past the council offices and prison and the Oystermouth Road guesthouse that had been his home and which he planned to return to later that evening. He didn’t stop to warn Alan and Gwen he’d be coming just in case something came up. Perhaps Jill would drag him to the meeting of the book club. He wouldn’t have entirely minded. He wouldn’t have minded much at all if she’d really wanted him there. He’d definitely go to the next one, assuming he was still in Swansea. He couldn’t see any reason why he wouldn’t be. When he got back, he sat with Jill in the shop for a few moments. He let her make him a cup of tea. He no longer even bothered to comment about the non-dairy milk substitute, or oat or soya milk, as she called it. His daily latte was now made with it, and he’d got used to the taste.
‘So, how did you get on?’ she asked.
‘Well, I’ve been quite busy,’ Edward said. ‘Hopefully, you’ll be pleased with what I’ve done.’
‘What’s that?’ Jill enquired, sounding quite intrigued by the possibilities of what Edward might have taken upon himself next.
‘I’ve arranged to have some flyers printed, for local libraries and places like that,’ Edward said.
‘That’s a good idea,’ Jill congratulated him.
‘And I’m taking out an advert in the local paper,’ Edward continued.
‘How can we afford that?’ Jill wondered.
‘You don’t need to worry about that,’ Edward said. ‘I’m paying for it myself. Remember our deal, a share of any extra profits,’ he reminded her.
‘Anything else?’ Jill asked, assuming there wasn’t.
‘As a matter of fact, there is,’ Edward confirmed. ‘You’ll be getting a delivery of some new storage units. Hopefully, they’ll take most of the books we haven’t sorted yet.’
‘Have you gone mad?’ Jill asked.
‘Perhaps,’ Edward agreed. ‘I’m not a man who does things by halves.’
‘You really have been busy,’ Jill commented.
‘There’s one more thing. I enjoyed last night. I wondered if you’d care to join me for lunch tomorrow. I thought we could shut the shop for a bit and have a snack in the vegan coffee shop. What do you say?’ Edward asked.
‘Is that a date you’re asking me on?’ Jill laughed, with a cheeky grin on her face and the glimmer of a glint in her eye.
‘Call it what you like,’ Edward said, noncommittally.
‘I have an even better idea,’ Jill said. ‘We can go for lunch and then take Beti for a walk together after. The weather’s meant to be nice tomorrow. We won’t bother reopening the shop. We’ll take the afternoon off. I think we both deserve it.’
‘I won’t argue,’ Edward said. ‘You’re the boss.’
Jill laughed again.
‘I don’t think I’ll ever be that,’ she said. ‘I wasn’t really the boss when it was just myself.’
Around five, they locked up the shop and banked the day’s meagre takings. Whilst Jill prepared for the arrival of her eager book club members, Edward retired to his room. For about an hour he quietly continued with his drawing and even started a new one. The one he now presumed to be of Jill, sitting wistfully in thought at her desk, was nearing completion. He laid some light watercolour on top of his rough pencil outlines. He was adequately pleased with the results he was achieving. Not bad for a beginner, he thought to himself, as he worked. It was coming together quite nicely, though the effort and concentration of painting wasn’t entirely relaxing. He found it quite exhausting in truth, more so than he expected. He put his sketchbook down and opened his notebook. He continued with the poem he was writing. It now extended to six stanzas. He even had a few random lines left over that he quite liked, but which didn’t quite fit. He realised they probably belonged to a different poem; one he hadn’t yet started. Wearied by his creative endeavours, he went down to the kitchen, to prepare himself something to eat.
He could hear Jill busying herself in her bedroom too, presumably getting ready for the night that lay ahead. Her guests were arriving around seven. Edward planned to leave just before then. Part of him wanted to attend. Part of him was less keen. He was anxious not to steal her thunder, or worse still be the subject of any gossip. That was the deciding factor. He’d have hated that. There was nothing worse. He imagined there were already enough false rumours circulating back in Oxford over his sudden disappearance. He could imagine if Jill’s guests saw him, there would be a host of questions to be answered. Who was he? Why was he staying there? Was he her lover? He would be the sudden subject of intrigue. Edward was a very private man. He couldn’t have borne any of that. No, it was better to make his excuses beforehand and make himself scarce. He’d meet them another time on neutral territory. He didn’t necessarily want them to assume he was living there, under the same roof as Jill, even if he was. No, it was best all round to give this meeting a miss, on further consideration and reflection.
Edward had a snacky tea and quickly washed up his plates and cutlery. He never left anything out. If it was his mess, he should clear it up. That was his confirmed opinion, one he’d never waver from him. He cleaned his teeth and tidied himself suitably for going out. On his way, he wished Jill a pleasant and successful evening. It was ten to seven. There was no sign of any of her guests yet. Jill promised to text him if they went to the pub. Edward said he might join them there but was careful not to promise. He thought it might be a little early for all that. He didn’t really know what the situation between him and Jill was himself.
Jill had laid out chairs in the bookshop for her guests to sit on. There were also nibbles and a number of bottles of wine. It made Edward wonder if the principal purpose of the evening was drinking rather than reading. It was up them. As long as they enjoyed themselves was the main thing. Jill was evidently a good host. She was clearly going to a degree of effort for those shortly to arrive, just as she had for Edward, in welcoming him into her home. After saying his goodbyes, Edward continued on his now familiar way down Francis Street, onto Guildhall Road South, before turning left into Oystermouth Road. The guesthouse came up very quickly. It was barely any distance at all. It was still only seven when he arrived outside. Presumably, the meeting of the book club would just be getting underway back at the bookshop, with Jill as chairperson. Was the host chairperson, Edward wondered, or was it a function performed by someone else? Edward had no idea, but he imagined Jill undertaking the role for the evening. Meanwhile, he rang the front doorbell of the guesthouse. He no longer had a key. He’d handed it in when he left. He hoped Alan or Gwen would get up to answer it. He imagined they would. Alan came to see who was there first.
‘I was just passing, so I thought I’d look you up,’ Edward said.
It wasn’t entirely true. He wasn’t passing. He’d gone out of his way to visit them, to see how they were doing.
‘What a pleasant surprise,’ Alan said. ‘Do come in.’
Alan led Edward into the lounge, that in the morning was the breakfast room. As always, Gwen was sitting on one of the comfortable chairs, watching the television. She looked up when Edward entered.
‘Look who’s come to see us,’ Alan said.
‘How delightful,’ Gwen commented.
There was a look of genuine pleasure on her face. She was evidently pleased he’d taken the trouble to call on them.
‘Can I get you a drink?’ Alan asked.
‘Yes please,’ Edward replied.
‘Your usual scotch and soda?’
‘Indeed,’ Edward said, opening his wallet to offer payment.
‘I wouldn’t hear of it,’ Alan said, beckoning Edward to put his wallet away. ‘You’re not our paying guest now. You’re a guest in our home.’
‘I’m very happy to pay,’ Edward said.
‘No, really, it’s very nice of you to offer, but we couldn’t accept,’ Alan said. ‘Have a drink with us, as our friend.’
‘If you’re sure,’ Edward agreed, somewhat reluctantly.
He knew Alan and Gwen didn’t charge enough for their rooms. He didn’t want them being further out of pocket on his account. At least, he could console himself with the thought he’d left them a generous tip when he left.
‘So, how’s it going?’ Gwen asked. ‘Have you settled in all right?’
‘Yes, thank you very much,’ Edward answered. ‘I have my own room at the top of the house.’
‘Have you started work in the bookshop?’ Alan enquired, passing Edward his whisky.
‘I have,’ Edward said, taking a satisfying sip.
His eyes lit up a little, as he remembered what he’d done in the shop so far.
‘It’s going quite well,’ he continued. ‘Business is slightly quiet. It’s only to be expected, but I’m optimistic it will pick up. I have some ideas to get a few more customers through the door.’
‘So, Edward, is it just a business arrangement or is it more than that?’ Gwen asked, with a mischievous look.
Being a woman of a certain age, she was willing to ask the questions Alan was too much of a gentleman or simply too embarrassed to ask.
‘I don’t fully get your meaning?’ Edward responded, appearing a little confused, or just pretending to be.
‘Surely, you know what I mean,’ Gwen said. ‘Is it a romantic thing between you and Jill or are you just good friends?’
‘That is a very good question. There’s certainly nothing improper going on,’ Edward said, giving the matter further consideration for a moment, but not refusing to answer. ‘The absolute truth is I’m not quite sure. I think we’re just friends at present, but there have been one or two hints we could become more than that. Nothing has been said by either of us, but we have become close, and we get on very well. There’s no denying that.’
‘How exciting,’ Gwen said, clapping her hands. ‘I thought as much.’
‘Oh, ignore her, she’s just a gossip and a would-be matchmaker. Pay no attention to her,’ Alan said dismissively, as if Gwen had touched on a subject that she should have been left well alone.
‘There’s nothing wrong with a bit of gossip and matchmaking,’ Gwen laughed.
‘More importantly, have you been in touch with your wife?’ Alan continued.
‘As a matter of fact, I haven’t,’ Edward answered. ‘I keep thinking I should, but I keep putting it off. I can see on my phone she’s both texted and rung, but I haven’t answered as yet. I’ve just let her know I’m OK and will be in touch when I’m ready.’
‘She’s probably wondering when that will be,’ Gwen pointed out.
‘She probably is,’ Edward conceded. ‘Of course, I’d argue that she created this situation herself by having an affair. I doubt she’s pining after me anyway. She’s probably very happy I’ve gone and there’s nothing to get in the way of her and Paul.’
‘I expect she misses you really,’ Gwen suggested. ‘It’s probably quite a shock to her you’ve just upped sticks and left.’
‘Maybe, maybe not. I can only imagine it will all sort itself out in the fullness of time,’ Edward said.
‘Do you miss her?’ Gwen asked.
‘Yes and no,’ Edward said. ‘Sometimes I do. Sometimes I miss my life back in Oxford, or parts of it at least. Sometimes I don’t miss it at all.’
‘That’s always the way,’ Gwen nodded. ‘When you’re back in Oxford, you’ll probably miss Swansea.’
‘I think I will,’ Edward agreed. ‘That’s if I go back,’ he added, in a humorous but vaguely ambiguous fashion, almost as an afterthought.
Was it a joke or was he being serious? He wasn’t quite sure. Just then, he heard his phone beep. He pulled it out of his pocket. It was a text from Jill. The meeting had finished early, and they’d gone to the pub if he wanted to join them. Evidently, there wasn’t that much to discuss about Salman Rushdie. Of course, there was really. Edward was just being flippant to himself. He’d allowed Alan to top up his glass once already and he found himself accepting another whisky. For his own reasons, he didn’t want to meet Jill and her friends in the pub on this occasion. He’d decided against it, having initially thought he might wish to go. He’d stay with Alan and Gwen a while longer, before eventually heading back. Edward had consumed his fourth whisky, before he finally left them, promising to look them up again soon.
‘I shan’t ask if you’ll be wanting your usual cooked breakfast in the morning,’ Alan joked, as Edward departed.
Edward smiled back.
‘Jill’s a vegan and wouldn’t allow it,’ he laughed, as he proceeded from the guesthouse and stepped onto Oystermouth Road.
Edward had texted Jill to say he’d been detained and would see her back at the bookshop. He took his time, choosing the scenic way home, just as it was getting dark. When Edward got in, he found Jill slumped on the sofa in the lounge, watching television. She was hiccupping. She was clearly the worse the wear for drink. Edward wondered how many she’d had.
‘Edward, how lovely to see you,’ she almost shouted at him, as if she couldn’t quite control the volume of her voice. ‘Shame you couldn’t join us in the pub.’
‘Another time,’ Edward said. ‘And how was your evening?’ he asked.
‘It was very agreeable, but I may have had a little too much wine,’ Jill admitted.
‘Just a little,’ Edward repeated, smiling at her. ‘I thought you didn’t really drink. How many did you have exactly?’
‘Well, I’m not entirely sure,’ Jill said, examining her fingers, as if she planned to attempt to count on them. ‘I probably had over half a bottle before we left, maybe more than that. Then someone bought me a large one in the pub, to say thank you for hosting. Then I think someone else got me another one, but I didn’t quite finish it, or maybe I did. It’s hard to remember to be honest.’
‘That is quite a lot, for a non-drinker,’ Edward agreed, sitting down beside her.
Jill allowed her drooping head to flop onto Edward’s shoulder. The room was spinning a bit. She gripped hold of Edward’s hand for support. He made no attempt to stop her.
‘Would you like me to make you a coffee?’ Edward asked.
‘That might help,’ Jill said.
She wasn’t keen to let him go and seemed intent on holding onto him.
‘You look very handsome,’ she told him.
‘You look very attractive too,’ Edward returned the compliment.
‘Do you really think so?’ Jill asked.
‘I do, even if you’re drunk, but if you don’t let me get up, I can’t make you your coffee,’ Edward pointed out.
After making her a cup of nearly black coffee, he sat with her a while she sipped it and started to sober up.
‘I think we should get you to bed,’ Edward announced.
He helped her into her bedroom and into her bed clothes. She still had her underwear on underneath. He didn’t see anything too untoward. When she was in bed, Jill gave him a big kiss on his cheek.
‘Thanks for everything,’ she said. ‘You can stay a bit longer if you like,’ she added.
Edward suspected she was flirting with him slightly. She was in too much of a drunken state, however, for him to take advantage of her. It was best to leave things as they were, before he allowed them to get more complicated. He hadn’t forgotten they already had their coffee shop date the following day.
‘Very tempting, but I’d better not. You need your beauty sleep,’ he told her.
With that, he tucked her in, turned off her light and closed her bedroom door. He then slowly climbed the stairs to his own bed and much-needed rest.
