Day Nine (Tuesday)
Edward started his day with his usual lukewarm shower and cooked breakfast. He still hadn’t had the heart to tell Alan the water was a little tepid. He had no doubt Alan would have tried to fix it. He always did his best to please. Edward had been there over a week, and he wasn’t quite sure how much longer his stay would continue. It was a bit too late to mention it now. If he was going to, he needed to have done so on his first or second day. It would seem pedantic at this point. Otherwise, his little room was perfect for his needs, regardless of its modest dimensions. Despite his wealth, Edward didn’t need luxury. Basic and functional was all he required. In most things, he only sort adequacy not opulence. He wasn’t by nature an extravagant man.
Edward looked out of his bedroom window. There was enough blue sky poking through the grey cloud. It was fortunate he’d chosen May not October or February. From memory and previous experience, there would have been little but rain then. That didn’t mean Edward was about to forego his raincoat. He wasn’t about to anytime soon. He rarely left home without it and would take it with him as a precaution now. He knew how quickly the weather could change in Swansea. Thick cloud and heavy rain could soon blow in from the sea across the bay. He checked the forecast on his phone. There was a small risk of showers. Otherwise, it was expected to stay reasonably fine.
Breakfast eaten and preparations for going out complete, Edward set off. As on most days, he took the costal route into the centre, with the beach on one side of the Oystermouth Road and his and other guesthouses on the other. It was a lovely walk on a day like today, one he’d no doubt miss when he was back in Oxford. He’d miss the salty sea air in his lungs and the light brush of fine, windblown sand on his face. It was reviving and invigorating. It made Edward think once again that staying in the city might have been better for Angela’s health. It was odd they’d never given it more consideration. They’d been in too much of a rush to get back and launch their burgeoning careers. They’d been highly successful in their chosen professions, but there had been a price to be paid for that success.
Edward left the bay road at the junction with West Way and headed up towards the Quadrant and Swansea Market via the Grand Theatre. Edward hadn’t forgotten Meredith would have an Eccles cake waiting for him and he was heading straight there. He was already licking his lips in anticipation, despite not long having eaten his breakfast. Edward reached the coffee shop and walked straight in. It was a little busier than some mornings. Edward assumed it was at its busiest at lunchtime. He’d only been once then.
‘Good morning,’ Edward greeted Meredith.
‘You’ve come for your Eccles cake, I expect,’ she commented.
‘I have indeed, and a latte if I may,’ Edward said, offering his debit card to pay.
‘Just find a seat. I’ll bring them straight over,’ Meredith promised.
Edward placed his phone on the table. He hadn’t checked for more calls and texts from Alice. It was still on silent mode, so he wouldn’t hear it ringing anyway. He could have blocked her number, he realised, but that seemed a tad childish. He wasn’t about to do that. He just wasn’t ready to enter into communication with her either as yet. Time was the great healer. Eventually, he’d have to speak to her and ask about Paul. There was no particular hurry. All that could wait for another day. Instead, Edward got out The Rum Diary. He was continuing to make good progress with it. It was an entertaining read. When Meredith brought his coffee and cake to him, she studied the cover quizzically.
‘So, what’s this one about?’ she asked.
‘That’s a very good question,’ Edward said, pausing to think for a moment. ‘You could say it’s the story of the kind of man I might have been in another life.’
‘What do you mean by that?’ Meredith wondered.
‘I mean it’s about a man not afraid to live spontaneously in the moment, with little thought for the future,’ Edward said. ‘That’s quite brave. I was never brave enough to be like that, though my son is. I always planned everything in advance. I had just about every small detail of my life worked out before I lived it.’
‘That doesn’t sound like a bad thing,’ Meredith commented.
‘Not a bad thing, but perhaps a little restrictive, like a straitjacket,’ Edward noted. ‘Of course, I couldn’t plan for every eventuality, my first wife dying for one.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,’ Meredith said. ‘It sounds like you remarried?’
‘Indeed,’ Edward confirmed. ‘Are you married, Meredith?’
‘Not married, but I live with a partner, another woman actually,’ Meredith explained. ‘I’ve had both male and female partners in the past. I’m pansexual.’
‘I understand it’s the modern way. You’ll have to forgive me but some of these terms are new to me,’ Edward admitted.
He was aware attitudes towards gender and sexuality were much more fluid than in his day, but he was yet to grasp all the terminology. Forty years ago, there had only really been straight, gay, bisexual and trans. He could perhaps add to that list androgyny, celibacy or abstinence by choice, and perhaps asexuality or no interest in sex. Now, there were a host of new terms to describe gender and sexuality. By his own admission, it was a whole new world to Edward, which he was only just coming to grips with and learning. He had a vague idea what pansexuality was. It was a more inclusive form of bisexuality, he understood.
‘That’s OK. It’s never too late to learn, Edward,’ Meredith smiled.
‘So, I’m often being told,’ Edward chuckled. ‘What is good is that people have greater freedom to express themselves these days. When I was a young man, people were afraid to admit to being different. At least society has broken down those sorts of prejudices and barriers.’
Edward recalled several gay friends from his youth who’d been scared to come out. Others who did had encountered bigotry for their honesty. Edward couldn’t have imagined turning up at his local rugby club forty years earlier and announcing he was gay. He would have been shunned in all probability. Now, no one would bat an eyelid. They wouldn’t care anymore. That at least was a good thing. Some changes were positive, it seemed. Society had quite rightly become more accepting about certain things. People were more able to be true to their nature, their sexuality, and their gender. It made Edward feel sad for those gay friends of his childhood who’d been forced to live much of their lives in the closet. It was cruel and unfair. Edward realised he was out of touch with many of society’s changes. He did know he’d always disliked discrimination and injustice of any kind and always would do. He’d fight against such until his dying breath.
‘Thank goodness for that. We don’t want to return to the Dark Ages,’ Meredith said, jokingly.
‘Indeed, we don’t,’ Edward agreed, returning to his book.
He really needed to get more with-it and up to speed with the times. He really was an old fuddy-duddy at heart, he realised. In his beautiful house in Oxford, away from other people, he’d lived in splendid isolation. He’d mainly worked with white, middle-class, middle-aged folk, which hadn’t helped. He was a bit clueless about the ideals and beliefs of the younger, more diverse, multicultural generations. What little he did know was what he gleaned from newspapers and television. He had a lot to learn about modern attitudes and thinking, he appreciated. Perhaps his trip would enable him to make a start on that process.
‘I’ll probably see you tomorrow,’ Edward said, as he downed the last sip of his coffee and hoovered up the remaining crumbs from his plate.
It really had been a most delicious Eccles cake.
‘I’ll make sure I have something nice for you,’ Meredith promised.
From the coffee shop, Edward headed back out of the shopping centre, along Oxford Street and then down St Helen’s Road. At the end, he turned towards Jill’s bookshop, where he presumed that she was patiently waiting for him to pick up her dog, Beti, to take her out for a walk. Edward walked neither slowly nor quickly. It was only mid-morning. He was in no particular hurry. He figured he had ample time to visit Cwmdonkin Park, before finding a little café in the Uplands, hopefully one that didn’t mind taking dogs, where he could have a spot of lunch. When Edward arrived at the bookshop, he found Jill dashing about in a slightly disorganised manner. He wondered for a moment if she’d forgotten he was coming. Apparently, she hadn’t.
‘Just looking for a book I promised to put back for someone,’ she explained. ‘I know it’s here somewhere. I just can’t immediately put my hands on it.’
‘You want to get all your stock catalogued on computer, then placed on the correct shelves,’ Edward suggested.
‘I know, I know, maybe one day,’ Jill promised.
She then stopped her search for a moment and rested her glasses on her forehead.
‘So, are you taking Beti to the park today?’ she asked.
‘I thought I would,’ Edward replied.
‘Would you like me to make you a cup of tea before you set off?’ Jill offered.
‘I tell you what, I’ll have one when I get back. That can be my reward if you like,’ Edward said.
‘Well, I hope you both have a lovely time,’ Jill said, attaching Beti’s lead to her collar and handing it to Edward.
‘I’m sure we will,’ he replied.
‘Oh, here’s my number just in case you have any problems,’ Jill said, handing Edward a small business card. ‘I forgot yesterday.’
‘Hopefully I won’t need it, but thanks anyway,’ Edward said, before leading Beti out of the door.
Again, just as on the previous day, she followed dutifully.
Edward walked down King Edward’s Road before turning right into Rhyddings Park Road, and continuing up the steepish hill, towards the Uplands. He passed one of his old student residences in Gwydr Crescent, which he and Angela had shared in their second year with some fellow friends. He stood outside for a moment. It brought back all kinds of memories, just to see the house again after forty years. They’d enjoyed many happy times there. It almost brought a tear to his eye to recall them.
At Uplands Crescent, Edward continued past the shops along Glanmor Road and then into Park Drive. He spotted several cafés where he might have his lunch, as he walked. He had little difficulty finding the bottom entrance to the park. Jill had described it to him in detail. He’d also double-checked on a map, to make sure of his bearings. An impressive metal gate and signpost painted in a vibrant shade of light green welcomed Edward and Beti. He knew they’d come to the right place. A steep path led in. It soon opened out into more formal gardens, with water features to the left and more open parkland to the right. He could see an attractive, ornamental shelter in the distance, with clear, blue skies hovering above.
Continuing further into the park, Edward encountered an elegant tearoom, with a pleasing vintage look. It was constructed of white, painted bricks, and pale green, wooden beams, in the traditional style of Victorian and Edwardian parks. Adjacent, was a carefully mown bowling green and tennis courts. Some students were having a game. They weren’t beginners. Neither were they quite as good as they thought they were. If Edward had been dressed more appropriately and hadn’t had Beti with him, he might have been tempted to take them on and challenge them to a game. He had a half a mind to anyway. He was confident he could have surprised them and taught them a thing or two. Despite his age and his erratic heartbeat, he still had a pretty solid forehand and backhand. His volley wasn’t bad either. He had little doubt he could have disposed of these young upstarts without too much trouble. He’d been a local champion in his day. Those days were well and truly gone, but he could still play well enough when he had to.
Edward sat on a bench and watched for a bit, with Beti by his feet. They both seemed content to sit and enjoy the sunshine. After a while, they moved on. Edward noticed a small, carved, wooden bust of Dylan hidden among the trees. It wasn’t difficult to see what had inspired and enthralled the great Welsh poet so much as a child. It would have been easy for a child to get lost there, both literally and spiritually. Edward could see how easily it would be a place of dreams. Dylan Thomas had lived just across the way at 5 Cwmdonkin Drive. Doubtless, he’d gone there all the time as a child. Strangely, when Edward had lived in the Uplands he hadn’t even known of its existence. It was his loss. He could have come here with Angela. They would have enjoyed the peace and quiet in the morning, particularly after a heavy night of drinking. Perhaps he could have found a little of the inspiration it had given Dylan. He’d still take a fraction of that inspiration now.
Edward and Beti gradually meandered their way back down towards the exit. Edward deliberately chose the route past the shelter on the opposite side to the path they’d gone up. Edward took a few photographs as he went. He was sorry to say goodbye to the park. It truly was a magical place. He wondered if Beti was sorry to be leaving too. He realised Jill must be a very trusting person, to leave him in charge of her dog. She obviously had more faith in Edward as a dog walker than he had himself. So far, he’d just about managed. Beti seemed content enough. It was now time for lunch.
There was of course the Uplands Tavern, which had stood proudly on the main Uplands shopping street even back in Edward’s day, but Edward wasn’t after a pub lunch today. He’d had plenty of them already. More accurately, he’d eaten most of his evening meals alone in pubs. He preferred a nice café in the daytime if he could find one. On the bottom right of the small stretch of shops and other business premises that formed the Uplands mini shopping centre were a succession of posher restaurants. There had been some there when Edward had lived nearby, some forty years earlier. They were no doubt different restaurants from those Edward had often walked past and had presumably changed hands many times in the years since. Edward had never been able to afford to go in any of them back then, as an undergraduate of limited financial means. Even now, they seemed more suited to a birthday meal out or a romantic evening date. They weren’t really the places for a quick lunch with a dog in tow. Instead, Edward headed back towards a pleasant-looking café they’d passed on their walk there. It was neither posh and foreboding, with a crisply dressed if slightly surly host to greet them, nor the kind of greasy workmen’s diner, specialising in chips and huge cooked breakfasts. It was down to earth, yet warm and welcoming.
‘Is it OK if I bring a dog in?’ Edward asked meekly, before daring to enter further.
‘Of course, there’s plenty of room upstairs,’ a lady with brown hair of a medium tone, probably in her early forties, who Edward took to be the proprietor, told him kindly.
She handed him a menu. All the tables downstairs were taken, mainly by retired folk of Edward’s age or older. They chatted happily among themselves, calling out to each other, even though they weren’t sitting at the same table. They all seemed to know one another. The proprietor seemed to know them all by name too. Edward guessed many of them came there for their lunch most days. Immediately, he decided it was his kind of place. He felt comfortable, at ease and relaxed with the world and life in general, even with Beti by his side and Alice back at home with Paul.
Edward found a corner upstairs, where he and Beti could sit away from other customers. Although she was very well behaved, it seemed to be the decent thing to do in the circumstances. Dogs weren’t to everyone’s liking, including his own usually. Edward had no wish to impose a dog on someone who might not appreciate them. There had been enough incidents with Victoria, who was afraid of dogs as a child, not to want to do that, and for Edward to have a healthy awareness not everyone’s heart instantly melted at a dog’s charms. Victoria had jumped out of her seat to avoid them in cafés and public places or tried to run past when they’d approached her in the street. They had on occasion left her fearful and shaking. Of course, it only led to inquisitive dogs giving her more attention than they otherwise would have done. All that because an overeager dog had once jumped up and knocked her over in the park as a toddler. It had been a major reason Edward never considering getting a dog himself.
Edward sat and studied the menu. It was mainly traditional fayre, to cater for the tastes of the principally more mature clientele. A few trendier, modern dishes were thrown in for the sake of variety. Edward also noticed they seemed to do a good trade in takeaway baguettes and sandwiches for the local workers. It was the kind of place Edward imagined cottage pie and similar would be popular. Edward settled for cheese and potato pie with salad. It would suit him perfectly. He went downstairs to order. He told Beti to stay. He thought he knew her well enough now to presume she wouldn’t follow him. It wouldn’t matter all that much if she did. In fact, she stayed under the table where she was, until Edward returned. Perhaps like Edward she was happy to have a rest.
Edward veered from his usual tea or coffee for once. He noticed healthy, fresh juices made of real fruit were a house speciality, so he ordered one of those. He hoped it would refresh him for the walk back and give him some much-needed energy for whatever else he chose to do that day. As he sat and waited for his food to be brought, he got his book out. He’d only read a few pages when his meal arrived. It was placed before him. Steam rose enticingly from the pie. Edward cut into it. Of course, Beti looked up eagerly and with expectation.
‘You’ll have to wait for it to cool down,’ he told her.
When it did, he threw her a few pieces of pastry. Naturally, she gobbled them up. It made Edward wonder if she was more used to a human diet than a dog one. He presumed she didn’t share Jill’s vegan meals, or maybe she did. She was certainly happy enough to share his pie, which on this occasion was vegetarian. Maybe he was changing little by little and hadn’t even noticed the changes that were happening within him.
After lunch, they meandered their way back. Edward chose a different route, down Brynmor Road. He was keen to pass other houses where friends had once lived and he used to visit them there. He was interested to see if he could even remember where they were located and if they looked at all familiar to him. He was pleased to find they did. His memory wasn’t as bad as he feared. More and more snippets of forgotten information were slowly coming back to him. The longer he stayed, the more he remembered. It was only natural, he supposed. It was the logical way of things.
‘Did you have a nice time?’ Jill asked him, when he finally returned Beti to her, just as she’d asked the previous day.
‘We certainly did,’ Edward confirmed. ‘She behaved perfectly again. She was excellent company for me.’
‘I’m very glad to hear it,’ Jill said.
‘I may not be able to take her tomorrow. I maybe out of town, but I can take her again later in the week,’ Edward explained, with a hint of apology.
He already had a little trip out of Swansea in mind for the following day. He wasn’t sure if he could take Beti.
‘That would be lovely. I’m very grateful you can take her out at all,’ Jill said.
‘I’m more than happy to when I can,’ Edward told her.
‘Now, tell me, Edward. You’ve now been back in Swansea for over a week. After visiting Cwmdonkin Park, do you finally accept Dylan Thomas is a better writer than George Orwell?’
Edward laughed.
‘My views may have changed a little, but I’m not quite ready to admit that,’ he said.
‘Well, we don’t have as many great writers here in Wales to celebrate as you English do. We have to treasure those few we have,’ Jill said. ‘I think there’s a bit of an anti-Welsh bias among the English literary critics,’ Jill added.
‘You could be right,’ Edward admitted. ‘Besides, even if you don’t have as many acclaimed writers as us, you have history, heritage, beautiful landscapes, and Welsh hospitality in abundance.’
‘Yes, we have all those,’ Jill agreed. ‘Now, I’d better get you that tea I promised you.’
Later, Edward sat in a pub on the same Brynmor Road he and Beti had walked down earlier, eating his evening meal alone. He thought in retrospect he should have invited Jill along. He very much doubted she was doing anything, though she had mentioned in passing she was a member of a local book club and did the occasional evening class. One of those could have been meeting that night. Edward imagined if they were, Jill would have said. She hadn’t. No, she was probably sat in a room above the shop on her own with Beti, watching television or reading.
It would have been polite to ask her. Edward just hadn’t thought to, until it was too late. Now he was sat eating by himself, he realised he would have been glad of her company. She was a very nice lady, and her companionship would have made the night complete. He’d been rude not to say something. Perhaps he would another time. Of course, he had to remember he was still married. Alice was at home waiting for him, or perhaps not. Any offer might have been misconstrued. Jill might have seen such a suggestion as an unwelcome and unwanted advance on Edward’s part. He certainly didn’t want that and didn’t want it perceived as such. They were just two lonely people who’d both experienced bereavement in life, who could perhaps have benefited from someone to talk to. Edward knew he could, though he was happy enough in his own company.
Perhaps it was best in retrospect he hadn’t asked. That didn’t mean he might not another time. It was just something that required more thought. He needed to think it through a little more fully before asking. He didn’t want Jill to think it was a date. That wasn’t his intention. Edward had in mind something more innocent entirely. It would just be two friends, with something if not a lot in common, enjoying a drink and some food together. It would be nothing more, nothing less. It wasn’t fair Jill was sat in every night by herself when Edward could do something about that if he so chose to. No, he would ask, only not just yet. Perhaps at the weekend would be better timing.
Back at the guesthouse Edward had a quick drink with Alan and Gwen, before heading to bed. A scotch and soda would be a fitting conclusion to the pleasant meal and tasty pint of real ale he’d just enjoyed at the pub, he decided. He didn’t want to be late going to sleep, however. It was sure to be another early start in the morning. He’d have breakfast sometime after eight, before setting out on his travels. He certainly wouldn’t be idling away the hours in his room. Such ideas would be far from his mind.
‘Did you have a nice day?’ Gwen asked, as he sat down to join them.
‘I did. I seemed to have acquired a dog,’ Edward replied jovially, as he awaited the questions and comments that he felt certain would surely follow his unexpected announcement.
In fact, Alan and Gwen let the remark pass and Edward didn’t mention it again. Instead, they chatted amiably about other things, until Edward decided it was time to turn in.
