Day Eight (Monday)
Good morning and what would you like for breakfast today?’ Alan asked cheerfully when Edward appeared in the breakfast room shortly before 8.30am. ‘Would you like poached eggs or is it back to your usual?’
‘It’s a weekday, so back to a full, cooked breakfast, I think,’ Edward replied. ‘Perhaps I’ll try the scrambled eggs another day.’
‘A full, cooked breakfast it is,’ Alan confirmed. ‘A good choice, and would you like tea or coffee to drink?’
‘Tea would be nice,’ Edward said.
He’d have his daily coffee hit later that morning at Meredith’s. Edward was able to take his favourite window seat. Most of the weekend vacationers had returned home. It was quiet again. Just one other middle-aged man sat at another table. He had the appearance of a serious-looking businessman, about to conduct some important bit of business, but presumably not anxious to spend too much on his accommodation. If he had been, there were all kinds of state-of-the-art, high-rise, luxury hotels by the marina, which hadn’t been there in Edward’s day. It wasn’t what Edward wanted anyway. He’d had enough of those places, staying over in London in his working days. Where he was staying was simple and basic and much more to Edward’s taste. He didn’t greatly envy whatever meetings and deals the businessman had lined up in front of him that day to conduct. Edward was glad to have put all that behind him. To his surprise, he barely missed it at all.
After breakfast, Edward paid Alan everything he owed to date, before taking his usual early-morning stroll along the seafront, walking on the beach side of the Oystermouth Road, towards the shopping centre. It was grey overhead, so he’d taken his raincoat with him, and there was a slight chill in the air for May. He hoped the rain would hold off. It had most days so far. He’d just been caught in a few showers. Careful timing had enabled him to miss the worst of most of them. Rain had in part led him to see a highly entertaining film the previous day. He couldn’t really complain about the weather so far on his stay. He had to anticipate a bit of rain in South Wales, he reminded himself. It wouldn’t be Swansea with constant blue skies and no precipitation.
Edward made his way to Meredith’s coffee shop. He liked to start his day there when he could. He liked to have a routine. It was part of his plan for coming away. It was an idea in his head. For a short time, he wanted to establish and act out a sort of alternative life. It was more than just a holiday to him or a brief getaway. He wanted to get a flavour of what it would be like to live in another city again, one he’d once known well. Hence, he was renting a small room in a locally-run, private guesthouse not a suite at the Swansea Marriott Hotel. He could have stayed there. He had no doubt it was very pleasant. He just didn’t want to. He wanted something more akin to how his student life had been in a shared house. Of course, he could have rented a self-contained flat or a holiday let. It had just been a bit short notice for that. No, what he’d done was ideal. It was in fact perfect for his needs.
‘Good morning,’ Edward greeted Meredith cheerily, just as Alan had done to him first thing.
Perhaps Edward just wished to pass on a bit of that good humour and joviality. It was after all good to be alive, at least at his age. He was in his sixties now, no spring chicken. Some he’d known in his working life weren’t alive. Some of his colleagues hadn’t made retirement. Some had succumbed in their fifties. Stress of the job and other factors had led to cancer, heart disease and other ailments. The working hours they endured had also proved costly to marriages and relationships, as it had perhaps to his own. It had driven some of his colleagues to drink, heavy smoking, excessive eating, which had ultimately caused untimely death. He was one of the lucky ones who’d made it relatively unscathed. He should celebrate that fact, he realised.
‘How are you? Did you have a good weekend?’ Meredith asked, returning his sense of cheerfulness.
She was a naturally good-natured person, it was obvious.
‘I did, and I hope you did too,’ Edward said.
‘As a matter of fact, I did. It was very nice just to have some time off,’ Meredith admitted.
‘So, what do you recommend today?’ Edward asked, getting down to business.
‘The chocolate brownies are very nice and only just come out of the oven,’ Meredith said.
‘Do you make them all yourself?’ Edward asked.
‘Not all, we get a few in, but I try to make what I can. I aim to make a few fresh ones every day. People seem to like the traditional ones best here. The Welsh cakes always sell well, of course. I think I’ll be making Eccles cakes tomorrow,’ Meredith explained.
‘I’ll be sure to have one if I’m in,’ Edward promised. ‘A chocolate brownie would be lovely for now and my usual latte,’ he added.
He generally had a latte. He liked its milkier quality and smoother texture, although he occasionally asked for a cappuccino or Americano. In general, he didn’t really mind, and he was happy to have any kind of coffee with milk brought to him, however they chose to make it. He wasn’t an aficionado of the barista-style coffees sold by Costa and Starbucks and other similar outlets. He didn’t really know what most of those were. It had just been a black or white coffee in his day. Generally, Edward was happy with that. He didn’t see the point of all this choice, and it was largely lost on him.
Edward returned to The Rum Diary. He pulled it out of his pocket and began to read. He wondered what mess, Paul Kemp, aka Hunter S Thompson, would get in today. Would he be at risk of being fired for turning up drunk again, or worse still not turning up at all? Would he miss the deadline for filing his story and spend his day instead drinking rum in the nearest bar? Would he make moves on his friend and colleague’s attractive girlfriend? If only Edward could have been so impulsive and irresponsible. Perhaps in a parallel lifetime. He hadn’t been in the one he actually lived. He’d been a responsible and respected man. He’d even valued his position as a pillar of the local community. Many times, he’d been asked to run for office or become a councillor. His neighbours naturally assumed he was a supporter of The Conservative Party, because of his big house and his wealth and how he’d made his money. In fact, he leaned more to The Labour Party, though he wasn’t really a political beast. He saw beyond all that. It had always been prudent to keep his political inclinations to himself where he worked. Most of his colleagues were keen Conservatives. They were after all the party of commerce and business. Edward had just manipulated all that to his own personal advantage, and that of his family’s. They were his responsibility after all.
After he’d finished his coffee and cake, Edward headed out of the shopping centre and down St Helen’s Road, towards the second-hand bookshop. He hadn’t forgotten he’d promised to call by and even take Jill’s dog, Beti, out for a walk. He wasn’t quite sure where he was going to take her, probably along the bay, perhaps down to the marina, and back again. Edward could get a spot of lunch there. He’d noticed there were a lot of quayside cafes, where he could sit outside with the dog, as long as the rain held off. If it started raining, it might be a quick walk. He assumed dogs didn’t like getting wet any more than humans did, although he wasn’t really sure. He didn’t know too much about them in truth.
‘I said I’d come, and I didn’t want to let you down,’ Edward announced, as he entered the bookshop.
‘So, I see,’ Jill said, looking up and peering over her reading glasses at him. ‘It’s good to see you again,’ she added, with the intention of making him feel relaxed and welcome.
‘Have you found any more books for me?’ Edward asked, with a hint of hopeful expectation in his voice.
‘I’ve been rather busy I must admit. I haven’t had a chance to look,’ Jill confessed. ‘You know, if you really want, you can come in and look through the unpriced ones yourself one day when you have the time. You might find something else interesting in there somewhere.’
‘I’m sure I will, and I might just do that,’ Edward said.
‘I’ve been meaning to ask, what brings you to Swansea, Edward?’ Jill enquired, getting straight to the point. ‘Are you here on holiday?’
‘Kind of,’ Edward answered. ‘You could say I’m having a short break here. I’m staying at a local guesthouse. I’m recently retired and now time is more or less my own. I can spend it how I like.’
‘Sounds nice,’ Jill said. ‘Why Swansea of all places?’
‘I was a student at the university, a long time ago. Forty years to be more precise. I met my first wife here,’ Edward explained.
‘First wife?’ Jill asked, wishing to learn more.
‘She was called Angela. She died. She was only forty-five. Breast cancer, which eventually spread. She fought it valiantly, for the children’s sake as much as mine, but eventually there was nothing more the doctors could do,’ Edward said, with sadness. ‘I still miss her though.’
‘I lost my husband to cancer too, of the liver,’ Jill announced. ‘He was older, early sixties. His name was John. He liked a beer, but he was educated and a good man.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that. We have something in common then,’ Edward remarked.
‘I guess we do, though I doubt we have much else in common,’ Jill laughed. ‘I’m a vegan for a start.’
‘I’m definitely not that. I’m a confirmed meat eater,’ Edward said. ‘I can’t imagine becoming vegetarian or vegan now at my age.’
‘It’s not so hard, if you put your mind to it and stay committed,’ Gill said. ‘Besides, it’s never too late to change, Edward.’
‘I suppose not,’ Edward conceded.
She was right, of course. It wasn’t too late to embrace new ideas and give up old, entrenched ones.
‘I’m not much of a drinker either,’ Jill continued. ‘Or I haven’t been since John died. I’ll have a glass of wine if someone’s offering.’
‘I drink, or least I did,’ Edward admitted. ‘Aren’t you missing out on all the fun things in life then?
‘Not really, I don’t see it like that. I believe it helps keep me a more balanced and happier person, and a healthier one,’ Jill suggested.
‘Fair enough, it makes sense if it works for you,’ Edward acknowledged.
‘It does,’ Jill confirmed.
‘Any children yourself?’ Edward asked.
‘I have one daughter, Megan. She’s grown up. She’s an artist. She works with ceramics, which she sells to tourists from a little studio in West Wales,’ Jill said.
‘Sounds a nice life. I have two offspring, Victoria, and Henry, both grown up also,’ Edward expounded.
‘Are you remarried, Edward?’ Jill asked.
‘I am, but it’s complicated,’ Edward accepted.
‘Oh, how’s that?’ Jill pressed.
Edward had opened up a little to Alan and Gwen. Why shouldn’t he to Jill as well? Did it really matter if he exposed his shame to her?
‘It’s one of the reasons I’m here actually,’ Edward confessed, sadly. ‘I found out my second wife, who is a decade younger than I am, is having an affair. I needed to get away to think things through.’
‘That’s very sad to hear,’ Jill said. ‘I hope you manage to work things out.’
‘What will be will be,’ Edward said, philosophically. ‘Have you remarried, Jill?’
‘Oh no, I’m very much single. I don’t have time for relationships, what with Beti and this place. Do you think the shop would be the state it is if I had someone to help me? Jill laughed.
‘I suppose not,’ Edward agreed, looking around at the piles of unsorted books. ‘I can see it’s a lot for one person.’
‘It definitely is,’ Jill confirmed. ‘So, are you taking Beti out for a walk for me?
‘That’s what I’m here for?’ Edward nodded.
‘She’s an older dog, so you can just keep her on her lead,’ Jill said. ‘She’ll be happy to trot along behind you.’
‘I was planning to take her down to the marina, where I may get a spot of lunch, and then back again.’ Edward said.
‘That should be fine,’ Jill concurred, attaching Beti’s lead to her collar and passing it to Edward.
‘Come on then, Beti. Time for your walk,’ Edward said, not totally confident of his ability to perform the basic task that lay ahead.
‘Here, take some of these treats with you and give her a few. She likes them,’ Jill said, handing Edward a small packet.
‘I’ll do that then. I’ll turn to bribery if she won’t go where I want her to,’ Edward joked, and then set off.
‘Bye, see you later and thank you,’ Jill said, closing the door.
It was strange walking with a dog in tandem. Edward wasn’t used to it. He was used to walking alone, although the dog seemed obedient enough and content to follow him. He felt no resistance on the lead, as he walked past the Brangwyn Hall and Victoria Park, towards Oystermouth Road and the beach. At the traffic lights at the bottom, he crossed over to the seaward side. Very soon, he found himself walking past the guesthouse where he was staying on the other side of the road. He was amused to speculate what Alan or Gwen might think if they happened to look out at that moment. They’d no doubt wonder why he was walking a dog along the beach. Edward was rather wondering that question himself. The thought had certainly entered his mind. What was he doing? What had he got himself into? He had come away to be on his own. He was bonding with the locals rather better than he’d expected.
Edward continued down Oystermouth Road, past the civic buildings and Swansea Prison, with Beti dutifully trotting by his side. Both he and the dog walked quite slowly but made steady and good progress. Edward quite fancied returning to the Dylan Thomas Centre for his lunch, but he thought it unlikely they’d want a dog, even a well-behaved one, in that historic and pristine building. It was no matter. He could return there another day when he was alone. He had Beti with him now. She was in his priority. He had a responsibility for this ageing and amiable animal. She was his concern, at least for that part of the afternoon until he returned her to her owner. For once, Edward couldn’t just think about himself. He couldn’t just come and go as he pleased. He imagined they wouldn’t want a dog in the two nearby museums he’d visited on his second day in the city either. Again, he could return to them another time if he so wished. That was the good thing about museums. No matter how often he visited, he always spotted something new he hadn’t noticed before. That was part of the joy of returning over and over.
Edward stopped at one of the many café-bars that lined the side of the marina. He deliberately chose one which wasn’t too busy, and he and Beti couldn’t possibly disturb other customers, not that she was the kind of dog to start barking. Edward found an empty outside table away from other diners and sat down. Beti settled calmly by his feet. Edward gave her a couple of the treats from the packet he’d been given, to reward her for her good behaviour. He had a perfect view of the harbour’s still waters and the many vessels that bobbed gently on its silvery, blue-green surface. There was a mixture of modern and historic craft, and both wind-powered yachts and motorised boats. Edward had never been much of a sailor. It was yet another thing he wouldn’t have minded doing if he’d ever had the time. He could picture himself as the captain of a small sailing ship. He could see himself standing on the bridge with his captain’s hat, handing out orders to his willing crew, perhaps his children and grandchildren, if he ever had them.
Perhaps he should consider getting himself a boat if he ever came to live by the sea. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t have easily afforded a modest one. A superyacht, of the type that Russian billionaires sailed around the globe in, might have been beyond his means. Other than that, he had more than enough in the bank to buy one worth the cost of several houses. Technically, Edward was a millionaire, though he never considered himself one. It no longer had the meaning it once had. If he added his home and all his assets together, including savings and investments, he was no doubt worth quite a few million. It didn’t really feel like that to him. He just felt comfortably placed. He knew he could live out the rest of his life without ever having to worry about money, as long as he wasn’t reckless and stupid with it. He was never likely to be that. If he had been, he wouldn’t have had the money he’d gradually saved over the years. His clever business sense and acumen had just seen it gradually increase year on year, until he’d chosen to retire.
Edward cast his eyes down the menu. Plenty of things appealed to him. In the end, he chose fish and chips and mushy peas. He was by the coast after all. Fish from Welsh waters was considered a local delicacy. What he ordered was claimed to be locally caught. Edward had noticed much on sale in Swansea Market, but so far, he hadn’t greatly availed himself of it. Perhaps it was high time he did. He noticed another customer’s fish and chips being brought out. It looked very nice. It would more than do him. It was funny to think none of these upmarket café-bars had existed in Edward’s day. The mouth of the River Tawe had been very different forty years before. It had been transformed in the time that had passed since Edward had left Swansea. He wouldn’t even have recognised what was dubbed the Maritime Quarter in truth. It had still been the home of derelict and decaying industry. All that was gone, pulled down, wiped clean and redeveloped into something modern, shiny, and new. Some changes were for the better, Edward decided. This development, which included the National Maritime Museum, was one such example.
To his surprise, Edward found himself stroking Beti’s coat, as he waited for his meal to be brought out. Beti wagged her tail back. The dog appeared to like him. Maybe he should get one himself when he got home to Oxford. They weren’t such bad things. One like this would be all right. Beti had her own charm. Even Edward wasn’t oblivious to it. She was no doubt good for Jill. She kept Jill company when she didn’t appear to have much other company in her life. Of course, Edward only knew the few things Jill had chosen to tell him about herself. She might not have told him the whole story. She might have been harbouring dark secrets and hidden depths.
As Edward tucked eagerly into his food with relish, he broke off small bits of battered fish and the odd chip to throw down to Beti. He wasn’t sure if he was meant to do that, but she seemed to enjoy them. There were no bones in the fish. It was properly filleted, so he assumed it couldn’t do the dog any harm, even though fish and chips probably weren’t part of her normal, daily diet. Beti seemed to be enjoying them almost as much as Edward was. She kept looking up for more. Edward found it hard to say no. He had a very big portion. There was plenty of his plate. It wasn’t as if there wasn’t enough for the both of them.
Edward was too full for dessert, although Beti would probably have liked one. Even Edward drew the line there. All that sugar, cholesterol and calories couldn’t possibly be good for a dog. He’d read about overfed ones having to go to the vet to be treated for their rich blood. Edward didn’t want to be the cause of that, even though Beti looked up hopefully. Edward told her no, it was time they were heading back. He was even more surprised to find he was speaking to her as he would another person. Perhaps that was what came of spending most of the last week on his own, in his own company.
Edward guided Beti back the way they’d come, past the civic buildings and prison, then along the coastal path that ran alongside the beach for the whole length of the bay, all the way round to The Mumbles. Edward understood that to be its correct, full name, though as students they’d always referred to it simply as Mumbles, with no prefix. Perhaps it didn’t need one. Perhaps they’d been right all along. It was certainly easier in its simplified form. Edward now found himself caught between using the two, not sure which was grammatically and geographically correct. He couldn’t even find a definitive answer when he endeavoured to check on his phone. He noted Jill, a local herself, called it The Mumbles.
Eventually, Edward passed the guesthouse where he was staying. That was his cue that he’d shortly have to cross over and head inland past Victoria Park and the Brangwyn Hall. He then continued along the back streets behind King Edward’s Road and the parallel St Helen’s Avenue, where Jill’s second-hand bookshop was located on a side street, hidden away among the closely packed, terraced residences. Edward had no trouble locating it. He knew the way now, although it was hardly obvious to potential customers. It was no wonder business wasn’t exactly booming. Still, it seemed to suit Jill well enough. Edward presumed she lived above the shop. That kept things simple for her. She could combine work and homelife together.
‘Did you have a nice time?’ Jill asked, when Edward finally returned Beti safe and well and in the same condition that he’d taken her, bar the consumption of a quantity of fish and chips Edward didn’t see fit to mention.
‘We did,’ Edward replied, truthfully.
‘Did she behave?’ Jill continued.
‘She behaved impeccably,’ Edward answered.
‘How far did you take her?’ Jill enquired.
‘Down to the marina, where we stopped for lunch, and back, just as I intended,’ Edward confirmed.
‘Well, thank you very much. I really appreciate it, and I’m sure Beti does too,’ Jill said.
‘I can take her out again tomorrow if you like,’ Edward suddenly blurted out, before he’d really given much thought to what he was saying.
‘Where are you going to?’ Jill asked.
‘You know I haven’t actually decided yet, but I’m sure Beti can come along,’ Edward offered.
‘Have you been to Cwmdonkin Park on your travels so far? It’s a lovely, quiet place to sit,’ Jill suggested.
‘Where’s that?’ Edward enquired.
He’d heard of it, but he wasn’t quite sure where it was.
‘It’s in the Uplands,’ Jill replied.
‘I used to live in the Uplands, so how come I don’t know it?’ Edward wondered.
‘It’s a bit like my shop. You wouldn’t notice it, unless you were looking for it,’ Jill explained. ‘The entrance isn’t on the main road. It’s tucked away behind the shops.’
‘I have heard of it though. Why’s that?’ Edward puzzled.
‘Ah, that’s because it was the childhood playground of Dylan Thomas and quite famous for its literary connections. It virtually backs onto the house where he lived. He played there all the time as a child, and it inspired a lot of the stories he wrote as an adult. He claimed it was his biggest inspiration,’ Jill said.
‘I didn’t know that, but in that case, I shall definitely visit,’ Edward agreed. ‘I shall go there tomorrow if the weather stays fine. I’ll pick up Beti in the morning on my way.’
‘I’ll see you then,’ Jill told him.
Edward knew he’d have to go for his customary coffee and cake first. He could collect the dog on his return after that.
‘Indeed, you will,’ he confirmed.
‘Beti says thanks and goodbye,’ Jill said.
‘Thank you and goodbye to you both too,’ Edward said,
Outside, Edward looked at his watch. It was mid-afternoon. He decided to wander back to his room, where he’d rest for a while. Later, he’d pop out to get something to eat. He’d probably finish his evening with a quick drink with Alan and Gwen in the bar. He imagined they were probably expecting him. He didn’t wish to disappoint them. His mind was already turning towards visiting Cwmdonkin Park the following day. He was already looking forward to it. To his surprise, he was also looking forward to seeing Jill and Beti. They’d almost pushed Alice out of his mind altogether. He had to reprimand himself for forgetting her and for forgetting for a moment he was a married man. He was still that whatever Alice had done.
