Day Twenty (Saturday)
Beti woke them up around seven-thirty in the morning. She then proceeded to make little whimpering noises at the bottom of the bed, to indicate she was hungry. Edward was slightly surprised to find himself in Jill’s bed, but he didn’t say anything. It was probably best not to draw attention to their new domestic arrangement.
‘In a minute, Beti, I’m just waking up,’ Jill told her faithful dog. ‘So, who’s opening the shop today?’ she asked, turning to Edward.
‘No one,’ he announced, cheerfully.
‘What do you mean, no one?’ Jill repeated, sounding mystified by what Edward had to tell her.
‘Exactly what I said. Neither of us. We’re having the day off,’ Edward said.
‘But it’s Saturday, our busiest day, and we had yesterday afternoon off,’ Jill reminded him.
‘I know. Don’t worry. We’ll leave a sign on the door saying we’re on holiday,’ Edward explained. ‘I’ve actually been thinking we shouldn’t open at weekends. Monday to Friday is plenty for us at our advancing ages. Instead, we’ll increase our web presence and concentrate more on the mail order side of the business. Long term, we can sell more books on the internet through specialist bookselling sites than to customers in the flesh. We just don’t get enough of them in anyway, to justify being there most of the time. I was also thinking I could set up an eBay shop, to boost sales. Eventually, we could just open the shop by appointment only.’
‘I’m glad you’ve got it all worked out. At least one of us has. You’re in charge now. Do what you want, dear. And I’m not being sarcastic either. I mean that in a nicest way possible,’ Jill told him. ‘So, if we’re not getting up, I may as well roll over and go back to sleep.’
‘You can’t do that. I have a busy day planned for us,’ Edward said.
‘How so?’ Jill asked.
‘We’re going to have a day of culture,’ Edward declared.
‘Sounds interesting. So, what will that involve?’ Jill enquired.
‘I thought we could start at the Glynn Vivian Gallery in the morning, get a spot of lunch somewhere, then do the Dylan Thomas Centre and the two museums in the afternoon,’ Edward revealed. ‘What do you say?’
‘I’ve not been to any of them in a while. That’s absolutely fine, as long as I get to choose where we have lunch,’ Jill answered.
‘Of course, where would you like to go?’ Edward wondered.
‘There’s a little vegan place in the market. It’s only small but they do amazing coffee and donuts,’ Jill said.
‘Do they have anything savoury too?’ Edward asked.
‘Oh yes, a few things like vegan pies and pasties. But their donuts are simply divine. They make them fresh on the premises every morning,’ Jill said.
‘A pasty and a donut would suit me perfectly,’ Edward said. ‘So, shall we get ready? Do you want to shower first, or do you want me to?’
‘You go ahead,’ Jill said. ‘I’d better get Beti something to eat.’
‘Don’t worry about her walk. I’ll take her out when we get back,’ Edward promised. ‘It will help me walk off any donuts I have,’ he laughed.
Edward and Jill set off just after nine-thirty, leaving Beti to mind the bookshop and home. They intended to get to the Glynn Vivian in time for opening at ten. They wanted to beat the crowds, not that they were expecting any. They knew perfectly well they’d probably be browsing the exhibits virtually on their own. That was the best way, without distraction and interference. Edward couldn’t think of a better way to spend a Saturday morning than in an art gallery with Jill. He’d value her take on the paintings he’d already seen several times. Would she like the same ones? Would she prefer different ones?
Edward and Jill took their time looking around. They went from room to room, saying what they did and didn’t like about each exhibit. They did the rooms on the ground floor first and then proceeded upstairs. They paused longest at the striking images of the rugged, working faces in the depictions of the industrial landscapes and past of Wales, just as Edward had himself when visiting alone. They were still the works Edward liked best and moved him most, even on his third visit. Jill agreed. They left her moved too. Life had certainly been hard for those people not so very long ago in time. It was unlikely they had Saturdays off, to look round galleries and museums. They almost certainly would have had no such thing. They probably worked twelve-hour days during the week, with Saturday afternoon off for sport at best, and Sunday off to attend church. That was their lot. It was indeed a harsh, grim existence, not for the weak or faint-hearted.
Finally, they finished on the top floor with the fine porcelain and ceramics and interactive visual displays. Edward took photographs on his phone of a number of his favourite works. He hoped they might inspire his own humble artistic efforts. He hadn’t brought his new camera. He’d bring that into use another day. They didn’t stop for a tea or coffee, even though Edward was tempted. He was more tempted by the thought of a donut, so they proceeded straight to Swansea Market and the vegan café Jill knew there. They’d had a light breakfast and decided to opt for an earlyish brunch/lunch.
The café in the market was pleasingly quiet. They had no trouble finding a seat. Edward observed most customers were just after takeaway coffees and donuts, just as they were at the vegan coffee shop round the corner from the bookshop. Edward was instantly struck by the amazing range of vegan donuts on display. They were all kinds of flavours – chocolate, pistachio, lemon, blueberry, strawberry, cherry and more. They looked fabulous. It was almost impossible to choose one. Eventually, Edward ordered a vegan pasty, a chocolate and hazelnut donut, and a latte. Jill ordered a falafel salad, a lemon donut, and a fruit tea. Edward paid, even though he’d paid for lunch the previous day. He insisted Jill put her purse away. The food barely took any time to come out. Edward made quick work of his pasty. He wanted to get straight to his donut, which appeared to be staring appetisingly at him, demanding to be eaten.
‘You’re right about these donuts. They’re absolutely delicious,’ Edward said. ‘My God, I’ll want one every day, until I’ve tried all the flavours.’
‘You won’t keep losing weight then,’ Jill joked. ‘Have another one now if you want just in case you’re not back for a day or two.’
‘I am tempted,’ Edward admitted.
‘Go on, you know you want to,’ Jill encouraged him.
‘OK then,’ Edward gave in. ‘Do you want one?’
‘No thanks, I’m absolutely stuffed,’ Jill said.
Edward went back to the counter and bought himself another donut. He was almost apologetic in doing so. He was told they were for sale by the box if he wished to buy that many. He’d better not, he said. Two was probably plenty. This time he chose blueberry. It was looking longingly and temptingly out from behind a glass cabinet, he thought. If anything, it was even nicer than the chocolate one. What had Jill done to him? She should never have brought him here. He’d be back every time he came into the shopping centre in future. He might even have to forsake poor Meredith’s coffee shop. He couldn’t do that. He’d just have to take it in turns. That was the only fair thing to do from now on. Most mornings, he’d be too busy in the shop for donuts or cakes anyway. All in all, that was probably for the best if he wanted to maintain his slight weight loss.
‘I’m surprised you didn’t buy a box,’ Jill teased, as they left the market.
‘I could have been persuaded,’ Edward confessed. ‘It was probably a good job she didn’t press too hard. I might have, except I didn’t want to be carrying them around with me.’
Edward and Jill proceeded up Oxford Street, before turning right into Wind Street, after passing Castle Square. It was the first time he’d been into the shopping centre with Jill, he realised. He’d walked the length of Wind Street a number of times by himself. It was better with someone else, particularly a female of comparable age, if a few years younger. They walked hand in hand. Edward had got used to that, even if he didn’t know exactly what it meant. Were they girlfriend and boyfriend now, or were they still just good friends? They’d spent the previous night together in the same bed, though nothing sexual had taken place. Even so, did that mean it was definitely over with his wife, Alice? Edward wasn’t quite sure. They arrived at the Dylan Thomas Centre and went in. They started looking around. Jill looked enthralled.
‘He’s my literary hero. I love it here,’ she said, as they examined the various exhibits, highlighting the life and work of the late, great Welsh writer.
There was a black and white photograph of Dylan, with his wife Caitlin.
‘That could be us,’ Edward joked.
‘Except they weren’t very kind to each other,’ Jill pointed out. ‘We’d never be like that.’
‘Does that mean we’re now an item?’ Edward asked.
‘Figure it out,’ Jill replied, and then laughed.
Edward let his question pass. It would become apparent soon enough, he thought.
‘He looked much older than his thirty-nine years,’ Edward commented, looking at one particularly bloated picture of the poet.
‘That’s what happens when you drink too much,’ Jill observed. ‘Besides, everyone looked older then. They all wore the same clothes as their parents. There was no youth fashion.’
‘Even in the photographs of Dylan in his twenties, he’s basically wearing what I am, and I’m sixty,’ Edward pointed out.
‘And Caitlin’s wearing summer dresses like mine,’ Jill noted.
‘I guess not everything has changed,’ Edward agreed. ‘Though the photos do make it look so long ago. I guess it is nearly seventy years now.’
‘Dylan will always be thirty-nine. He’ll never get any older,’ Jill said, with a hint of poignancy in her voice. ‘I suppose that’s part of the enigma and mystique around him.’
‘That and his love of Wales and alcohol,’ Edward added.
On the way out, Edward insisted that Jill select a book from the Dylan Thomas bookshop he could buy for her.
‘I’ve probably got most of them,’ she said.
‘You can’t have all of them,’ Edward objected.
Eventually, he persuaded her to have one. He was happy now. He liked to be able to treat her. He liked to spend money on her. One day, he’d buy her something really special when he knew her better. They walked slowly along the banks of the River Tawe towards the City Museum.
‘It’s lovely here,’ Jill said. ‘I’d walk here more often if I only had the time.’
‘You will be able to in the future,’ Edward assured her. ‘You won’t have to work so hard when the mail order really starts to take off. We’ll both be able to work part-time.’
‘What happens if it doesn’t take off?’ Jill pressed.
‘It will, but if it doesn’t, it’s not the end of the world,’ Edward said.
‘It will be if we’re penniless,’ Jill insisted.
‘We’ll never be that,’ Edward told her.
‘How can you be so sure?’ Jill asked.
Perhaps it was as good a time as any to tell her, even if it was sooner than he intended. She should know that she’d never be destitute, as long as Edward had a part to play in her life.
‘Let’s just say I was quite good at my work, and I was quite well off when I retired,’ Edward said.
‘How well off is well off?’ Jill pressed.
‘Some might say rich,’ Edward replied, remaining a little vague.
‘Rich? Does that mean hundreds or thousands in the bank?’ Jill wondered.
‘Millions if you must know, or a few million at least. I couldn’t say for sure without checking,’ Edward said.
Jill’s face was a picture. She looked quite aghast.
‘Well, the house is probably worth between one and two million,’ Edward continued. ‘Then I have investments and savings. I had a very generous golden handshake when I left. Exactly what it all amounts to is anyone’s guess. I’d have to sit down and work it out. Besides, half will probably have to go to Alice in time. Even then, I’ll never have to work again if I don’t want to. I’ll never want for money in any way. I’m a man of fairly simple tastes anyway. Apart from the house, I’m not extravagant. I doubt I’ll ever get to spend most of it.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Jill asked.
She didn’t look angry, just curious.
‘I didn’t want you to treat me or see me any differently,’ Edward explained. ‘I genuinely want to make the bookshop a success for you. Of course, the money doesn’t matter to me. It never has. But I want to show you that it could be a successful business in its own right, with a bit of effort and some better organisation. It’s given me a hobby and an interest, something to spend my time on, which I appreciate. Most of all, I just wanted to help you out. It’s my way of saying thank you for the friendship you’ve extended to me.’
‘That’s very sweet of you,’ Jill nodded, seemingly accepting Edward’s explanation for not telling her sooner. ‘I think I understand why you didn’t mention it now.’
‘In fairness, I haven’t told anybody,’ Edward said. ‘You’re the only one I have told.’
‘Now I feel like a gold-digger,’ Jill said.
‘You’re not that and never will be,’ Edward protested. ‘That’s exactly why I didn’t tell you before. I thought it best you didn’t know.’
‘Does that mean we can go on holiday?’ Jill asked. ‘I haven’t had a holiday in years.’
‘It means we can do whatever you like,’ Edward said.
They continued hand in hand to the City Museum. Edward took one or two photographs as they went. It was a pity there was no one to take one of them together. Perhaps he’d ask someone at some point, he decided. Inside the museum, it was decidedly quiet. It always had been on Edward’s many visits as a student. The quietness was one of the things he liked about it. That and the fact it hadn’t changed much in forty years. It had remained pretty much as it always had been. Edward suspected one of the upstairs rooms had been refurbished during that time, but he wasn’t even certain of that. It could just be a case of his memory letting him down. He was aware it did more and more as the years passed and he got older, and the memories slowly grew fainter.
‘We used to come here on school trips, but I haven’t been here for years,’ Jill remarked. ‘It isn’t very different to how I remember it. I thought it might have been modernised a bit since then.’
‘That’s why I like it,’ Edward explained. ‘I’m a Luddite at heart. I always have been. Change is the Devil’s work,’ he claimed, but in only semi seriousness.
‘That’s why you feel so at home here. You could be an exhibit yourself,’ Jill laughed.
‘I actually wouldn’t mind that,’ Edward agreed. ‘If I wasn’t already working with you at the bookshop, I think a little, part-time job here might suit me down to the ground.’
‘I do believe you’re right,’ Jill said, giving his hand an affectionate squeeze.
They browsed in the costume room first, before continuing into Edward’s favourite room, which housed the natural history exhibits. He pointed out the taxidermy examples of British wildlife that he liked, including a faded stoat and a polecat, that had seen better days. As a vegan, Jill was less impressed.
‘They look a hundred years old and full of moths,’ she joked.
They passed the famous wooden carving of the Swansea Devil, and impressive black and white photographs of the West Coast of Wales from the early twentieth century, before continuing into the ceramics room, and then to the palaeontology room. They finished in the upstairs gallery, which celebrated the cultural past and social history of Wales. An impressive penny-farthing bicycle hung on the wall. A gleaming, miniature steam engine sat proudly behind a glass case. Finally, they came to the rural, Welsh, cottage kitchen. The old lady in traditional Welsh costume was still sat at her table, just as she’d been sitting patiently for the last forty years. She hadn’t moved once in all that time. It remained Edward’s favourite single exhibit in the whole museum, even more than the dusty, stuffed animals, and the one he remembered best. It remained a fitting tribute to the rural, village past of Wales in the pre and early industrial age.
‘I like to wonder what she’s thinking,’ Edward remarked to Jill.
‘She has a pretty impressive spread of food laid out in front of her,’ Jill observed.
The kitchen table indeed boasted a plentiful supply of bread, meat, eggs, cheese, and vegetables, among other items of farming produce.
‘She does, but I doubt it was always like that, except in the years when the harvest was good,’ Edward said. ‘When it wasn’t, they probably had very little to eat and went without.’
‘I expect some sadly starved in rural communities back then,’ Jill speculated.
‘I’m sure they did. It makes us realise how very fortunate we are today. We never go hungry,’ Edward said.
‘Thank goodness,’ Jill agreed, as they made their way back down the stairs to the main entrance and exit.
She found their next destination, the National Waterfront Museum, a little more to her taste and liking. It had the modern feel absent from the City Museum, not that she hadn’t enjoyed that, in its own slightly musty way. She had enjoyed it, in Edward’s pleasant and informed company. Its dated ambience and atmosphere were still appealing in a fashion, even to Jill.
‘The marina looks lovely at this time of year,’ she commented, as they examined the historic ships moored to the harbourside. ‘The water looks so enticing I could almost get in.’
‘I wouldn’t do that, but we could go out on a boat one day,’ Edward suggested. ‘The thought had already crossed my mind.’
‘I’ll hold you to it,’ Jill declared.
Inside the museum, they toured the main upstairs gallery first, celebrating the maritime and cultural history of Wales, before admiring the larger industry-related exhibits on the ground floor. Edward took a selection of photographs on his phone, to add to several he’d taken earlier at the older museum. When they’d finished looking, they stopped at the museum café and shared a well-deserved pot of tea. They took the coastal route home, continuing to the end of the marina and harbour, and then past the prison and civic buildings, before joining Oystermouth Road. A little way further, they passed Alan and Gwen’s guesthouse on the other side of the road. They crossed over shortly after and turned right into St Helen’s Road. They took a small detour, so Edward could point out the house on the corner of Rodney Street, where he and Angela had shared a house with fellow students in their final year of university.
‘I’d like to see a photo of you then,’ Jill said.
‘I had more hair,’ Edward noted. ‘I’d kept it quite long in the seventies, but by the early eighties I used to have one of those public schoolboy haircuts. It was short at the back and sides and long on top. It was fashionable in those days, as it is again now, I suppose. In most of my graduation pictures, my fringe is falling into my eyes. I have no idea why I didn’t get it cut.’
‘I bet you were very cute,’ Jill said, giving him a little hug.
‘Hmmm, I doubt it,’ Edward replied, remaining unconvinced but nonetheless pleased by her unlikely suggestion to the contrary.
They continued back down Victoria Avenue, past the Brangwyn Hall, and then along Francis Street, with Victoria Park on their left, until they arrived back at the bookshop. Edward decided he wouldn’t stop and get comfortable. He’d take Beti straight out for her walk. He knew if he sat down, he wouldn’t want to get up again, after all the walking they’d already undertaken. It was better to get everything done, and then he could relax with a glass of wine in front of the television with Jill later.
‘Are you sure you don’t want a cup of tea at least before you go?’ Jill asked.
‘I’m sure,’ Edward said.
‘Well, thanks for a lovely day,’ Jill said, giving him a light but affectionate kiss on the cheek.
‘I hope you enjoyed it,’ Edward said.
‘I certainly did,’ Jill assured him. ‘I’ll find something for our tea, while you’re out.’
Edward was amazed how quickly they’d come to resemble a happily married couple. It had only been a week, but he felt entirely comfortable there in Jill’s house with her. Edward led Beti to the end of King Edward’s Road, right into Finsbury Terrace and left onto St Alban’s Road, where he recalled other friends had once lived. At the end of Park Place, they entered Brynmill Park and did a complete circuit of the woodland and lake, before heading out. They walked up Alexandra Terrace, into Rhyddings Terrace, and eventually back to where they’d started via Rhyddings Park Road. It had been an approximately circular tour.
Edward picked up another bottle of wine on the way, although he knew he had at least one left over from the previous night. With two sharing, it was easy to get through it, he reflected. A bottle was only a couple of generous glasses each, he observed. It wasn’t that much, he supposed, though he was aware he tended to have the lion’s share of each bottle. Jill wasn’t a huge drinker. She sipped, while he quaffed. Perhaps she was just drinking to humour him, though she appeared to quite enjoy a glass of wine. Edward hoped it wasn’t doing him any great harm. He wasn’t that bothered if it was. He was in that great tradition of educated, middle-class folk, who had a tendency to slightly overindulge in alcohol. Edward had cut back since the diagnosis of a minor heart condition. He doubted that he’d ever stop completely.
Edward spent a little time alone in his bedroom, working casually on his drawing and writing, as Jill prepared their evening meal. Later, he found himself sitting next to her on the couch in front of the television. Edward wasn’t really watching what was on. They each had a glass of wine in their hand. Jill snuggled into him. He made no attempt to stop her or move away. It had become the norm in their relationship. He’d allowed that boundary to be crossed and broken. There was no putting it back in place. They’d reached a level of familiarity, that was beyond normal friendship. When it neared midnight and it was time to go to bed, Edward made a move towards his own bedroom. Jill pulled him back.
‘No, you don’t, not tonight,’ she said. ‘You can stay in my bed.’
Edward didn’t protest, as she led him into her bedroom. She turned the light off.
‘Take your clothes off,’ she whispered.
Edward did what he was instructed, and Jill did the same. He got in beside her.
‘Hold me,’ she said, as she turned to face him.
Edward could feel her naked skin next to his. He was naked too. His hands accidentally brushed against her generous breasts. It was enough to arouse him, as he hadn’t been aroused in many months with his wife, Alice. Jill kissed him on the lips. This time her tongue entered his mouth. It felt warm and wet and tasted good. Jill pressed into him. He pressed back into her. She lightly touched his penis. He made no attempt to stop her.
‘Make love to me, Edward,’ she said, guiding him inside her.
It was an unexpected but very pleasant end to their wonderful day together. The genie was now well and truly out of the bottle, Edward realised, and couldn’t be put back. Afterwards, neither of them said a word. They just curled up quietly and fell asleep. Edward didn’t feel that bad about what had happened, even though it was technically adultery. It was nothing Alice hadn’t already done presumably many times over.
