Chapter 37
When he arrived at the address Tita had given him from the files at I Do, the house was exactly the kind of place he would have pictured Ginny growing up in: a small pebble-dash terrace, painted off-white, in a row of ten or more identical homes on a quiet street in a residential area in Glastonbury.
But it had a bright pink door with a welcoming wreath made of autumn leaves – probably collected from the trees on the green at the end of the road.
A pumpkin with a drawn-on jack-o’-lantern face sitting by the door clashed horribly with the pink.
There was a dwarf apple tree in the front yard and a neat metal storage box with a gleaming lock – he guessed for a bicycle or two. The doorbell buzzed when he pressed it, setting off a sudden panic.
What if she was there? He didn’t know how often she visited and he was hoping to be out of the country – at least back in Wales – by the time she found out what he’d done. As his flight was the following day, chances were good he’d already be gone before she even learned the photos existed.
When he continued to wait, he worried that no one would be home, although that was still better than Ginny being there.
At last, he heard scuffling steps inside and a man opened the door, average height, hair thinning and a little round in the middle but robust and energetic, with a pair of prominent ears that made him marvel at the power of genetics.
‘Hello?’ His tone wasn’t unwelcoming and he inclined his head in a way that was familiar from his daughter. The recognition burned in Rhys’s chest.
‘Hello,’ he began, swallowing his nerves. ‘Are you… Ginny’s father?’
‘I do have that privilege,’ he said with obvious pride.
‘I, er… I worked with her on a wedding and I wanted to bring her something.’
Ginny’s father unfortunately worked out quickly that this wasn’t the straightforward request he’d made it out to be. ‘I think you’d better come in. I’m Greg, by the way.’
Rhys accepted the proffered hand. ‘Rhys,’ he introduced himself.
Greg showed him through to a reception room with comfy, dated sofas and an enormous TV. After inviting him to sit down, he disappeared – to the kitchen, Rhys assumed.
‘Tea? I’ve got Yorkshire tea or herbal: nettle or lotus tea,’ he called out as Rhys settled his bag carefully beside him, wondering when he should take out the photos and worrying again that the envelope he’d put them in was too plain and ugly.
‘Lotus tea, thank you.’
The tea took just long enough for Rhys to entirely rethink his actions.
He should have just packaged the photos well and posted them.
He’d been a fool to think of Ginny and her family roasting the chestnuts he’d gathered with her, maybe giving her an opening to really talk about what had been bothering her all of these years with her father’s remarriage and how it affected her own search for love.
It was none of his business and he shouldn’t have come.
Hot drinks on the coffee table, Greg settled into the armchair and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, friendliness written in his body language.
‘What’s this about, then? I’m very happy to pass anything on to Ginny, but you know she doesn’t live too far from here herself, although I think she’s down in Weymouth today.
Perhaps you’d like to leave it in her postbox?
Or come back another day and give it to her in person? ’
‘I can’t give it to her in person and I didn’t want to trust it to the post. These really shouldn’t get wet.
’ He hoped Greg would accept that explanation, but of course he didn’t.
He prompted Rhys with a lift of his eyebrows.
‘I think it’s best if I’m not here for her reaction.
This isn’t… It’s for her, not for me. Also, I think perhaps she’s mad at me… ’
He rummaged in his bag so he didn’t have to say anything more about that. Fishing out the envelope, he placed it on the coffee table. If the tea hadn’t been there, guilting him into staying, he might have closed his bag and escaped.
‘It’s just some photos. I’m a photographer. I thought she might like these.’
‘Oh,’ Greg said eagerly. ‘Photos of her? May I see?’
Rhys’s mind raced for an excuse, but refusing permission would give the wrong impression. The photos were entirely innocent, except to himself. So he nodded, witnessing Greg reaching for the envelope with a sense of being dragged to the chopping-block.
He deserved this for trying to take the cowardly way out and leave the country without seeing her. Imagining Ginny looking at these photos had been awkward enough, but now her father was taking them out of the envelope and he had screwed everything up again.
Greg’s eyes lit up at the sight of the photo on top. It was a candid shot from the day at the farm. He flicked through the first few, sitting back in his chair, his teeth peeking out of his growing grin. ‘These are beautiful. It’s kind of you to—’
Rhys grimaced as Ginny’s father slowly raised a photo to inspect it carefully. It was the intimate close-up that felt like a piece of his own soul on display. Perhaps he wasn’t the only one who felt something when he looked at that shot.
Greg glanced at Rhys and back to the photo, before he tucked all of them back into the envelope without looking any further. ‘I’m sure she’ll love them. You’re very talented.’
Rhys exhaled slowly and took a sip of his scalding tea. ‘Thank you,’ he muttered.
‘Forgive my asking, but you and Ginny…’
He gave an answer somewhere between a nod and a shrug.
‘It’s complicated?’ he asked gently.
‘Very. I’m leaving the country tomorrow.’
Greg’s shoulders sagged and Rhys wondered that he was disappointed and not relieved. Rhys was too old and too broken for Ginny anyway.
‘But it’s nothing to do with Ginny,’ Rhys continued, discomforted by Greg’s reaction.
‘She’s a very special… If I were staying, I’d…
’ He was coming damn close to saying something dangerous that might get back to her.
He rubbed his forehead. ‘It’s her decision to end things anyway. We’re not exactly soulmates.’
Greg’s sigh was deep and surprising. ‘Ginny has a fixation on soulmates.’
All of their conversations washed over Rhys at once, the awkward moments and unintentional confidences.
He missed talking to her. It was unbelievable, but true.
‘She said something about when her mother died—’ He cut himself off before he betrayed her trust. ‘But she would need to bring that up with you – even though she’s too kind-hearted to ever mention it. ’
Greg’s forehead creased. ‘That sounds like my girl.’
‘She gave a very good speech at the wedding.’ So good, it had made him wonder what might happen if he didn’t go to Canada. But he couldn’t put his life on hold for a woman who didn’t want him for more than a few days. She wouldn’t do that to him either.
He rose in a hurry, running a hand through his hair. ‘I should—’
Greg nodded, hauling himself to his feet and holding out his hand once more. ‘It’s lovely to have met you, Rhys.’ It wasn’t often that Rhys believed platitudes, but Ginny’s family was obviously an exception. ‘I’ll make sure she gets the photos.’
‘Thank you. I thought you could give them to her when you roast the chestnuts, if you haven’t done that already.’
‘The what?’
He wasn’t sure what it meant that she hadn’t mentioned the nuts. ‘We… She, er… There are some chestnuts from Italy. They’re something really special roasted on a fire.’
Greg seemed to understand more from his words than he meant to say. ‘Are you sure you won’t join us to roast them? Tonight?’
He shook his head. ‘I can’t do that to her. She made herself clear.’
Trying to keep his head high as he followed Ginny’s father to the front door and back into the chill air was impossible. Greg gripped his arm and squeezed.
‘Best of luck, young man,’ he said firmly.
Rhys raised a doubtful gaze to Ginny’s father, picking up the twinkle in the other man’s eye at the irony of his words.
He guessed Greg suspected the truth: he’d loved Ginny.
One day, he’d be able to look back on this time with something like fondness and at least he understood now what he was capable of.
‘Ginny, your phone’s ringing – again!’
Ginny grumbled under her breath. She’d been enjoying her scalding shower after an hour of Kira barking at her on the wall. She didn’t need Kira barking at her from outside the stall as well – or anyone from the outside world trying to call her.
She was in a strictly text-only phase – not even voice messages. Anything might set her off and surely crying in public wasn’t allowed for longer than the relationship itself. Her three days had been up over a week ago.
Staying in the shower for longer than was necessary, Ginny was annoyed to find Kira waiting for her, tapping her damn foot, when she emerged. ‘You should put your phone on silent if you’re going to ignore it. It makes me antsy.’
‘Sorry,’ she replied. ‘It’s probably just my dad. I had a few missed calls after our session.’
‘You don’t think maybe you should talk to him? What if there’s a family emergency?’
Ginny scowled at Kira, who was too good at manipulating her. ‘If there were, he would have texted me in all caps,’ she reassured herself as well.
‘Ah, so he just wants to talk about why the usual Ginny has been replaced with sighing, weeping, heartbroken Ginny.’
‘There’s no need to exaggerate.’
‘I’m not,’ Kira mumbled. ‘When are you going to stop? When he’s left the country?’
Every time Ginny thought of his departure, of the moment when it wouldn’t be possible to see him, probably ever again, her skin went cold. That hadn’t stopped yet.
‘I bloody hope so.’
‘I’m a little surprised he’s avoided the gym since Italy,’ Kira said with a frown. ‘Are you at least going to be the big man and go say goodbye to him? I think he’s in Wales with his mam.’
Ginny didn’t want to talk about him – or remember how important his mam was to him, after his dad left when he was a toddler. Everything reminded her of a moment they’d connected, moments that seemed to grow more profound the more she thought about them.
‘I don’t think he wants that,’ she said in a small voice. ‘He didn’t even talk to me at the castle the day after the wedding. I always knew it was supposed to end like this and I have to respect that.’
Kira had nothing to say in reply. They both knew Rhys avoided committed relationships.
This was the end of the story. The only problem was that Ginny had always preferred a happy ending, and despite her fresh understanding of what it was like to love someone – not two disconnected parts of the same soul, but two very different souls discovering each other – she still preferred it.
‘Why was he at the castle that day anyway? Did he forget something?’ Kira asked.
‘I suppose so. I have a vague memory of him locking some equipment in a storage cupboard on Saturday night. Maybe it was that stuff. He must have got a taxi there alone because he didn’t want to talk to me.’
She wanted closure. She wanted to say goodbye to him, although it was possible those two were mutually exclusive, she thought miserably. She wanted to see his face once more.
The word ‘face’ snagged in her mind as she remembered him asking if people thought she was attractive, the way her heart had skipped when he’d explained what he saw when he looked at her – how he recognised her.
Then, like dominoes, her assumptions toppled and realisation landed on her like a grand piano. She grabbed Kira’s arm and yanked.
‘Ow!’
‘Holy shit,’ Ginny cried, her voice high. ‘He wasn’t ignoring me.’
‘Huh?’
‘I’m a self-centred fool.’
‘I don’t always disagree with that.’
She didn’t have the space to even scowl at Kira. ‘He didn’t recognise me!’
‘That’s… possible.’
‘I’d been crying, so I was wearing sunglasses and I had awful hair, so I put a scarf over it.
The scarf is really colourful, kind of overwhelming, and maybe it was covering my ears too, and I was wearing my little clear plastic stud that you can’t see from a ways back.
Plus, it was unexpectedly mild, so I left my jacket in the car. ’
‘He didn’t recognise you with awful hair?’ Kira said with a snort. ‘That tracks.’
‘No, it was the scarf! Oh fuck. I took it personally and that’s exactly what he was afraid of the whole time and—’
The shrill tone of a phone call interrupted her panic. Swallowing more curses, she ripped open the pocket of her training bag and retrieved her phone, unsurprised to see her dad’s picture on the screen.
‘Sorry, Dad, I can’t really talk right now,’ she said instead of a greeting when she connected the call. ‘I’ve just realised I got something important really wrong and I don’t know what to do about it.’
‘All right, love, but does it have anything to do with a tall, quiet type called Rhys?’