There was a black and white photo of her aged three, on a tricycle. One corner had a fold across it, crazing the emulsion. Gwen turned the photo over, expecting the explanatory caption ‘The Heartless Bitch, at an early age’. There was nothing written on the back.
The front door lock jiggled open. Gwen stood up very quickly.
Rhys came in. He stopped dead and looked at her. His face looked puffy, as if he’d been sleeping too little or drinking too much.
‘Gwen,’ he said, genuinely surprised.
‘Hello,’ she managed.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘I needed some stuff,’ she said.
He looked at the hold-all beside her feet and sniffed. ‘Moving out, are we?’
‘No.’
‘Coming back, then?’
‘No,’ she frowned. ‘I don’t know what’s going on. I just-’
He waved his hand. ‘Please, spare me the “I need some space” bit, all right? Would you, please? Otherwise it’s all going to get a bit too bloody
‘Yes.’
‘Good. You got someplace to stay?’
‘Yes.’
‘With a friend?’
‘With… yes.’
‘Got a number? A forwarding address?’ He slouched off his coat.
‘It’s not like that.’
‘What is it like, then, Gwen?’ he asked. He walked into the kitchen and filled the kettle.
‘I didn’t know you’d be here-’
‘Morning off, me. Dentist. Sorry to bugger up your plan to sneak about behind my back.’ He was losing his surprise and gathering a little confidence and momentum.
‘It’s not like that,’ she said. ‘I came round this morning because I needed some things. I came when you were out because I don’t know what to say to you. Not yet. And really, that’s all.’
‘Sounds very much like sneaking about behind my back to me.’
‘It isn’t. Not the way you mean. I’m not ready for a confrontation or a-’
‘A what?’
‘A long, meaningful talk.’
Rhys nodded. ‘When will that be, then? When will that be, you suppose? Next week? After Christmas? Can you pencil me in around work?’
‘Rhys-’
He saw the trinket box on the floor. ‘Your box of lovelies. And you tell me you’re not moving out?’
‘I was just looking at it.’
‘Bloody hell,’ he muttered, shaking his head. ‘How cowardly… how bloody
‘I don’t want this!’ she protested. ‘Not now. Can’t you grasp that? This is exactly why I dropped in when I thought you’d be out. I don’t
‘OK. Just so long as you can sort out what you want, we’ll be fine. Just so long as you get what you bloody want-’
‘Rhys!’
He glowered at her.
‘I’m not ready to do this,’ she told him. ‘I’m really sorry this happened today, but I’m not ready to do this yet.’
The kettle began to steam.
‘I gotta go,’ said Gwen.
‘You got a number, then? Somewhere I can reach you if I need to?’
‘You can call me on my mobile.’
‘Apparently, I can’t,’ he said. ‘God knows, I’ve tried.’
‘I’ll answer you, promise I will.’
‘We’ll see.’
She put on her coat and picked up her hold-all. She paused to slide the trinket box back onto its place on the shelf.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I’ll call you.’
‘Right,’ he nodded. He was staring at the window, not looking at her. The muscles in his jaw were tense.
‘I will. Soon. Soon as I can.’
‘Right.’
‘Take care of yourself, all right?’
‘Yeah. No one else will.’
She walked out and pulled the front door closed behind her.
Rhys sighed, and bowed his head. He turned the kettle off and looked at the front door.
‘Oh, also, I love you,’ he whispered.
She’d parked her car around the corner. Morning traffic hissed by on the damp road: a turquoise Cardiff Bus, a minicab, an Alpha Course transit conveying chattering OAPs to a church lunch, a courier van, a big-boned Chelsea tractor with a tiny mum at the helm. Somewhere a car alarm was whooping, and a crossing signal was pinging. Engines idled. Tail pipes quivered, fuming.
Gwen felt sick and she felt bad and, most of all, she felt wrong.
She got into the black Saab. The windows had steamed up. James was dozing off in the passenger seat.
‘All done?’ he asked, opening his eyes as the door shut.
She pushed her hold-all back over onto the rear seats. It wedged against the head rest. She gave it an angry shove to send it on its way.
‘Gwen? What is it?’
Gwen fumbled with the keys, then sat back. ‘Rhys was there.’
‘Shit. Did he give you a hard time?’
‘No,’ she said, sternly. ‘He’s not like that-’
‘OK, OK. I was just-’
‘Don’t.’
‘Sorry.’
She looked around at him. ‘He was so sad. So messed up.’
‘Gwen…’
‘I did that to him. Me. My fault. I tried to explain why I was there, but it looked bad, you know?’
‘Everything will sort itself out,’ James said.
‘Is that a promise?’
‘Yes it is.’
‘Wish I had your confidence. It’s going to get ugly.’
‘It’ll be fine.’
‘I hate the lying.’
‘So you said.’ James waited a moment. ‘So, did you tell him anything?’
‘Like what?’
James shrugged.
‘No. Nothing about that. It’s too soon.’
‘OK. You’re right. Too soon.’ He looked a little downcast, but right then she didn’t especially care.
