Day Four (Thursday)
After his usual breakfast, Edward went out quite early. The weather had returned to how it had been on his second day. The skies were blue, and the sun was out. It was how the bay looked at its best, although it had a kind of rugged beauty even in the wind and rain. He hoped the rain would hold off, at least until he’d visited the university campus. The open walk along Oystermouth Road and then Mumbles Road left the walker heavily exposed to the elements. There was little protection, as the rain blew off the beach and sand dunes. As often as not, it seemed to blow into the face of the walker heading in the Mumbles direction. Edward had no such worries today. It was warm and there was only a very gentle breeze. He could barely feel it on his skin.
As had become his custom on such days, Edward sat on a bench looking out onto the bay for a few minutes, soaking up the sunshine, before setting out. The tide was always high in the early morning and the water’s edge was only metres away. Later in the day it would probably be a mile or so out, as the beach at this point was so flat. Edward felt strangely content, considering events of the last week. He loved to just sit and look at the bay, from the ugly outline of Port Talbot Steelworks in the east, to the comparative beauty of Mumbles Pier and lighthouse in the west. The lighthouse was located on a jagged outcrop of rock, the last point visible to the naked eye before the coastline turned inwards to Langland and Caswell Bays. Edward made a mental to visit at least some parts of the Gower Peninsula before returning to Oxford. Perhaps he’d get a bus out there at the weekend, if he was still here, if thoughts of Alice and Paul together hadn’t dragged him homewards, to confront them in their twisted deceit and their shoddy affair.
The occasional dog walker, or runner out on their early morning run, passed Edward, as he sat alone in his thoughts. He said good morning to those who happened to catch his eye and smile at him. He’d landed on his feet with the guesthouse where he was staying, he reflected. He’d been lucky to find Alan and Gwen. They seemed a nice, genuine couple. They certainly weren’t in it for the money, with the rates they were charging. He couldn’t complain about that. He’d be sure stay with them another time if he ever came to the city again. He thought he almost definitely would return. It felt wonderful to be back.
Edward kept his eyes focussed firmly on the beach. He and his friends had drunkenly played about on it many times, after pubs had kicked out in the nights of the spring or summer months, or they’d had too many beers at lunch in the college bar and decided to take the afternoon off. What better than to play in the dunes that led to the soft, smooth sand. Edward seemed to remember there had been many more pubs on the Oystermouth Road forty years earlier. There were still a number of guesthouses and hotels, but very few pubs to be seen. Edward recalled doing pub crawls from one end to the other as a student. The Bay View still stood proudly on the western corner. It was where Edward and his now long deceased father had eaten on their first visit to Swansea, when Edward had come for interview all those years ago. He’d no idea he’d end up at Swansea then. It hadn’t been his first choice, but he’d come on a fine day like this. He’d been impressed by the bay, the campus on the seafront, the shops, and the cultural heritage. Swansea had leapfrogged some of his other choices in England and he’d ended up there. Wales wasn’t so unfamiliar to him. He had relatives in South Wales on his father’s side. They used to come to Cardiff, Penarth, Barry Island and Porthcawl when Edward was a child. He had fond memories of his times there and the fun fairs, which had been a delight and something special to look forward to.
Before he knew it, Edward had let a whole hour pass. It was nearly ten o’clock. There would be no coffee in town today. It would mean going in the wrong direction first and then coming back. Edward didn’t have the energy for that. He was already planning quite a long walk ahead front of him, without adding to it further. Meredith would no doubt miss with him, with his predictable order of coffee and cake. See, he was already breaking his newfound routine. Perhaps he wasn’t quite as set in his ways as he thought he was. Perhaps Swansea was changing him.
Edward walked on the beach side, where he could retain a view of Mumbles in the distance. He could see St Helen’s Rugby and Cricket Ground on the opposite side of the road to where he was walking. Some groundsmen were busy working on the pitch. The rugby season was just ending and the cricket one was just beginning. Edward was surprised to pass a swanky new café-bar on the beach side. There had been nothing like that in his day. Café-bars of the type, so favoured in modern times, didn’t exist then. There were old fashioned pubs, greasy, local cafés, and expensive restaurants to choose from only. There was none of this casual dining. Eating out was either a practical thing or a rare treat. There was nothing much in-between, not like today, when any town or city of moderate size was overwhelmed with them.
Edward reached the bottom entrance to Singleton Park and continued walking. He actually walked straight past the main university entrance. He wanted to walk the whole length of the campus, before heading back inside. He walked to the traffic lights at the bottom of Sketty Lane. The athletic ground and football pitches he played on as a student still stood on the western side, just as he remembered them. Singleton Park Boating Lake still stood on the other. Edward had once fallen into its mirky waters, during an afternoon of high jinx in his final year. One too many lunchtime beers had led to the suggestion of a group of them going boating, with the inevitable consequences that followed.
Edward took the scenic route into the university grounds through the park. He stood in front of the main college house. It had changed very little. It was pretty much exactly as he remembered it. Halls of residence, including the one where he’d resided in his first year, towered over the rear. Geography and social sciences departments still lay to the left of him as he looked, or at least the buildings where they had been housed, and humanities and the main library to the right. It was Edward’s understanding that engineering and some of the more scientific and mathematical departments had now moved out to the new Swansea Bay Campus. Having graduated almost forty years earlier, he had little idea what the exact division was based on. He would only glean a little more information as he wandered about for himself.
What did strike Edward was whilst all the buildings from his day still stood proudly in place, a myriad of other unsightly buildings had popped up in every available space between. It created an odd, incongruous sprawl. The buildings looked mismatched and unplanned, at least to him. The original buildings had enjoyed a similar look and feel to them. The new ones were all different. They created a mishmash effect. Edward wasn’t overly impressed. He didn’t like it all that much, he realised. That was progress for you though, he reflected. More students needed more buildings. Naturally the numbers of undergraduates there had increased massively since his day. No doubt they’d only continue to increase. It was just the way of things.
It was strange really, walking round and taking everything in. Whilst the campus had changed in many ways, in others it hadn’t changed at all. Edward found it both comforting and disconcerting. Everywhere, new buildings had sprung up among the old. It made it hard for him to get his bearings and know exactly where he was. He decided to make his way to the old college bar in Union House. He assumed that would still be there. Some students still liked to drink. On his way, he noticed the main college refectory was still in its original location. He was almost surprised. It hadn’t changed as much as he’d expected. He’d half anticipated it would have been turned into one of those fashionable new eateries, operated by one of the popular casual dining chains. Whilst it was being run as a concession, at least it appeared to be an independent one.
The college bar was there too, just as it had always been. It was here Edward would have his morning coffee, though inside it had changed out of all recognition. It had a trendy new name, designed to appeal to students. It had been given a modern makeover. It still served alcohol, but it was less of a bar, more a chic, barista-style coffee house. It wasn’t at all as he remembered it. It bore little resemblance to the place that he, Angela and their friends had started many a misspent evening with a few pints. Edward ordered himself a coffee and a flapjack. He chose a flat white from the list on offer, although in truth he didn’t really know what that was. What made it different from a latte or an Americano? He had no idea. A coffee had been a coffee in his day. It still was in his mind.
Edward sat with his coffee and flapjack and took in his surroundings. Students were scattered at the tables round him, all with laptops, tablets, or phones in front of them. They’d had none of these electronic devices when he’d been an undergraduate. They’d had pen and paper or an old, manual typewriter if they were lucky. How times had changed. It really was another world. Edward got out his book and read a few more pages. He’d almost finished it. He’d have to start another the following day.
Forty years earlier Edward had felt very comfortable here. It had been his second home. He no longer felt comfortable, he realised. He was too old. Too many years had passed. These young people had no place in his life and memories, nor he in theirs. His thoughts were inhabited instead by the ghosts of forty years earlier, who’d all moved on. Edward had been young once, just as these students were. He’d had his life in front of him. Now he’d lived it. He’d selected his chosen path. It had worked out pretty much as he’d hoped and according to plan. He still had regrets. He remembered the carefree faces of some of his friends doing English, drama, and history degrees. They’d had even fewer lectures than he had and many less than the likes of Angela. Sometimes he’d been envious of their free time and lazy lifestyles, even more than his. Of course, most of them hadn’t gone on to earn as much money as he’d done. That didn’t mean of course that they didn’t have happy lives.
Edward’s dreams had been different once. Inspired by the creative individuals round him, he’d briefly dreamt of being a poet, a writer, or an artist. Now he was surrounded by a new generation of youthful, hopeful, eager faces, with their own aspirations. Some would be a success, others wouldn’t be. It was just the way of the world. Who was to know what would befall each one and what lay ahead of them? Edward had no clue. He couldn’t judge by looks alone. Of course, it was a much more cosmopolitan, multicultural place than it was in his day, as it should be. It had been largely dominated by Welsh students then, with a generous percentage of English thrown in. Now it was very diverse, reflecting the changes in society in the time that had passed since he himself was studying for a degree.
Edward finished his coffee and flapjack and left through the main college house entrance. He headed towards Singleton Abbey and Singleton Park. He wanted to view the whole campus, though he realised he wouldn’t return on this particular visit to Wales. He felt out of place there. There had just been too much water under the bridge to spend too long here. It was a young person’s institution, quite rightly, not for old men like him. Edward recalled the faces of the lecturers who’d taught him. Most would be dead now, or very elderly, he realised. Many hadn’t been young then. They’d be in their eighties or nineties now if still alive. He hoped the younger ones at least would still be living. They’d be in their late sixties at best or seventies now, he imagined. He presumed all would be long retired. He doubted he knew a single soul there now. Once, he’d known hundreds to say hello to and greet by name.
It was time for Edward to leave. He’d seen what he’d come for. He walked past Singleton Abbey and out into the wide, green expanses of Singleton Park. Once he’d have crossed straight over to the Byrnmill and Uplands areas. This time he was going a different way round. He wanted to see the whole park in all its glory for once. He remembered playing football and rugby there with friends as a student. He was too old and a tad too rotund for such games now. That had been mainly at weekends or in the easy weeks after summer exams, when time had been their own to do with as they wished. Sometimes they’d gone for a quick game after lectures. More often then, they’d gone to the pub. He dreaded to think how many pints of beer he’d drunk as a student. It had been a lot.
It was a good job he’d cut back in recent times, before it was too late, and his bodily organs suffered serious, long-term damage. Largely for health reasons, he now mainly restricted himself to a wine or beer at mealtimes, or a scotch and soda before bed. He couldn’t imagine giving up altogether. Alcohol had been too big a part of his life for too long. Not only as a student, drink had practically been compulsory during his working days. It was a way he and his fellow financial whizzes coped with the stress of their jobs. Liquid lunches and a few after work were the norm. Edward had been happy to go along with it. He’d always enjoyed a tipple. He thought little of the consequences, until he’d received the diagnosis of heart arrythmia. That had probably been caused by a combination of excessive drinking and work pressures. The damaging mix of both had in all likelihood played its part. It didn’t really matter which had been the biggest contributory factor. It was just something Edward had to learn to live with now. He’d need more complicated medical procedures if he ever wanted it cured entirely.
Edward took a circular route round Singleton Park, so he wouldn’t miss any part. He meandered his way through the ornamental gardens on the southern edge. He remembered taking occasional romantic walks with Angela there on quiet Sunday mornings forty years before. He wondered why they hadn’t come more often. Their priorities had probably been elsewhere. The prospect of a lazy lie-in or a pub lunch no doubt seemed more appealing at the time. Occasionally of course there were essays to be written at weekends, or assignments and mathematical problems to be solved in Angela’s case. Generally, she seemed to carry a higher burden of work than he did. Edward was expected to undertake a lot of extra curricular reading. Most of the time he didn’t bother. He considered attending the majority of his lectures, seminars and tutorials to be sufficient. Ultimately that had got him through.
It was this area of the park which Edward had come to most often during his final exams. It had provided a welcome break from revising. The quiet stillness and the gentle sound of birdsong had provided a calming distraction. It had helped to relax and revive him and keep him sane. He’d built regular coffee breaks and quiet walks into his revision routine throughout those last months. Some students had cracked under the pressure of finals. They’d found it too much. Edward had not been one of them. He’d always done the minimum to keep his head above water. That had stood him in good stead. Others had reached their final exams with the sudden painful realisation they’d done absolutely nothing for three years. They’d left themselves too much to catch up on. Edward had been sensible and practical enough to ensure his work was mainly up to date. That had proved a blessing and both he and Angela had left with creditable degrees.
A little further on, Edward passed the beautifully constructed, highly ornate, 19th century, wooden, Swiss cottage, with its bold, carmine red panels and pale blue and cream decorative frontage. It was the park’s most famous landmark and he remembered it well. There was now a mobile coffee shop outside. That hadn’t been there in Edward’s day. People hadn’t felt the same need for constant takeaway coffees when he’d been a young man. Now, for most working office folk, it was a daily routine they couldn’t survive without.
Edward took one or two photos on his phone as he went. He had done on the day of his arrival when he’d taken some of the ruins of Swansea Castle. He’d turned his phone off after that to avoid any unwanted calls or messages from Alice. He’d since relented and turned it back on again, so he could at least have some of the benefits it provided. He’d deliberately left it on silent and not checked his phone calls or texts. He didn’t want to hear from Alice, though he could tell from his screen notifications she had now texted and tried to ring. He would have been a bit surprised if she hadn’t at some point. No doubt she wondered where he was and what he was doing. He just wasn’t ready yet to listen to what she had to say. He would do eventually in his own good time.
It would be a shame, however, not to keep some visual record of his trip, he decided. For that reason alone, he’d turned his phone back on. A few pictures would just be something to enjoy when he got home, he reasoned. It would be a small memento and reminder of the places he’d been to and visited. They were just snapshots he was taking, not works of art. They weren’t intended to be that, but they’d provide a few pleasant memories of what he’d done he could look through and treasure at some later date in the future.
At the northern edge of the park Edward encountered a small stone circle he had no recollection of. He could see the arrangement wasn’t historically authentic but a more modern reproduction. A quick Google check revealed it had been erected to celebrate the 1925 Welsh Eisteddfod. It was almost a hundred years old, unlike the neolithic ones he and Angela had observed on a walking holiday on Dartmoor they’d once enjoyed in their young, energetic days of early marriage, before Victoria and Henry had been born. In some ways the recollections of that holiday now seemed even more distant to Edward than the days he spent at Swansea. Swansea and his time as a student suddenly seemed comparatively recent and no longer a thing of the distant past, now he was back visiting the locations he’d formerly considered a home from home.
At the top end of the park, where the entrance there continued into the residential area of Sketty, Edward took a left turn towards Swansea Botanical Gardens. These were something of a hidden treasure of the city and a feature Edward had little recollection of as student, though he may well have visited at some point as a student. He’d read of the gardens since and had always been keen to visit. Now he was finally doing that. As he walked past the neatly landscaped and well-maintained flower beds and formal, floral arrangements on display, they stirred no memories in Edward. He suspected he’d never visited them before, although he couldn’t be absolutely certain. He was only guessing that, as the gardens were slightly concealed from view and not on an obvious way through the park. From at least one of his student houses, the park had been a natural route to the campus. Edward didn’t recall ever taking this particular path, though he might well have done. If he had, he’d forgotten.
Edward was impressed by the park and took a few more photographs. He was fortunate he’d come on a fine day. As well as the outside flowerbeds, there were greenhouses housing the exotic and tropical plants. These would die exposed to the elements, but were flourishing in the warm, humid air behind glass. Edward thought he was the only visitor enjoying the delights the garden had to offer, but once outside he encountered a retired couple also making the most of the floral beauty on display. He guessed they were in their late sixties, early seventies, a decade or so older than he was himself. They stopped him and asked if he’d mind awfully taking a picture of them.
‘Of course not,’ Edward replied. ‘It would be my pleasure.’
‘I used to come here as a child,’ the lady explained, handing Edward her phone. ‘I lived just around the corner. We still come here when we can. It hasn’t really changed in all that time.’
‘I was at the university, but I don’t think I’ve been before,’ Edward admitted. ‘I didn’t realise it was here.’
‘It is well hidden,’ the lady agreed. ‘Lots of people who’ve lived here for years don’t know about it.’
‘I wonder, would you be so good as to take a photograph of me too,’ Edward asked, after taking a couple of pictures of the couple. ‘I’m by myself, you see,’ he explained.
It would be good to have at least one photograph of himself on holiday, he thought.
‘We’d be delighted,’ the gentleman spoke, returning the favour and taking Edward’s phone from him, to take his picture.
‘Well, enjoy the rest of your day,’ Edward said, after he’d posed for his own photograph.
‘You too,’ the couple said. ‘Enjoy your time in Swansea.’
Eventually, Edward left the Botanical Gardens and re-joined the main park. It was time for him to move on. He departed by the top gates and meandered his way through Sketty and into the middle-class Uplands neighbourhood. He passed pubs, shops, and cafes he remembered visiting as a student. In his second year, he’d lived very nearby. He could have walked past the house he used to live in, but he decided to do that another day. It would require a minor diversion. He could do it another time. Instead, he continued past the shops towards town. He passed the road where Dylan Thomas had lived as a boy. Again, Edward didn’t stop. His long walk had made him hungry. He was ready to get back to the city centre and to eat. The time he normally ate lunch had elapsed some time earlier.
Edward could have found his way into town with his eyes closed. He hadn’t done it for years, but he’d done it so many times in the past, it remained ridiculously familiar to him. It was engrained on his mind. He was almost surprised by the familiarity of the buildings he passed. Although a few had changed purpose, in general this particular area of Swansea had barely changed at all. It was much less changed than some parts of the city centre and the marina area for example. By comparison, the road into town from the Uplands was little altered, though there were more elegant café-bars and eateries than there had been, Edward observed.
Eventually, he dropped back down onto the Kingsway and made his way to a café on the side of Swansea’s Grand Theatre, that had caught his eye on a previous stroll. He passed Meredith’s coffee shop. He wouldn’t be in today. She’d wonder where he was, he reflected. At the theatre café he found a table and enjoyed a leisurely late lunch in the elegant surroundings. He’d always been fascinated by old theatres and cinemas. He could picture himself on the stage or working as a theatre director or manager. Perhaps in another life, one he hadn’t lived. He’d always been keen on films, even as a student. He’d been less of a theatregoer. To his shame, he hadn’t been a regular at either of Swansea’s main theatres as a student. Some of his more artistic friends had gone from time to time. He hadn’t joined them. He’d been more dedicated to Angela and to drinking. He partly regretted that now. They could have gone together. Neither one of them had suggested it at the time.
Of course, they’d been many times since, in and around Oxford. Subsequently, he’d gone with Alice after Angela’s death. Theatre hadn’t meant that much to them as undergraduates. Neither had eating out. They’d saved most of their money for alcohol. They’d occasionally gone for a fry-up in a local café or a curry in a late-night Indian restaurant. In those days some stayed open very late in Swansea, so they could be open for drinkers after the pubs had kicked out. It was one way of getting round the more rigid licensing laws of forty years ago. Once or twice, he and Angela dined out as a couple somewhere nice, but those occasions had been rare. It was hard to imagine, but eating out wasn’t such a thing then, not as it has since become.
By the time Edward left the café, it was gone 3pm. He decided to go to one or two shops before returning to the guesthouse. In Marks & Spencer, he bought some functional clothes to add to those he’d brought with him in his travel bag. Alice liked him to buy expensive, designer labels. He considered it a waste of money. She wasn’t with him now. He was happy to settle for the kind of practical, timeless quality he knew Marks & Spencer would provide him. Edward bought socks, underwear, several shirts, and a pair of trousers. He anticipated they’d see him through a small extension to his planned stay. If he stayed longer, he might need another jacket too. That could wait at present. Edward was unconcerned if he couldn’t carry all the new clothes back to Oxford with him. Any he couldn’t carry he’d leave behind with Alan and Gwen or give to charity. Alternatively, he might buy another bag to carry them in. He wasn’t worried either way. The money didn’t matter to him. He had plenty to live on. A few pounds spent on clothes was of no great consequence. Neither was the forty pounds he was spending every night on bed and breakfast. He could stay as long as he liked, forever if he wanted.
Edward didn’t dine out that night. Instead, he popped to a Chinese takeaway he’d noticed when walking past the Brangwyn Hall. He ordered a selection of savoury dishes that he knew he’d enjoy but would be no good for his waistline. He then took them back to his room to eat alone. He didn’t go down for a drink that night. He decided to leave Alan and Gwen in peace. He’d join them again another night at the weekend. After he finished eating, Edward read for a bit. He finally finished his book. He’d start another one the next day. Edward found himself identifying a little with Dostoevsky’s protagonist, though he wasn’t quite so introverted, paranoid and reclusive. Edward was happy in his own company, as he was now, but could be a social creature when he needed to be. That was the big difference. Edward knew how to play the game. That skill had served him well in the world of work. It had made him a rich man. It didn’t stop him being alone now. With that thought in his head, Edward rolled over and fell asleep.
