Chapter 13
The journey home took three jumps. London to Chester. Chester to Llandudno Junction. And then the mad rush across the platform to catch the last train to Blaenau Ffestiniog.
Through the window, she watched the scenery change.
London's unpredictable weather gave way to Wales's even more moody temperament.
The sky seemed lower here, heavy with fast-moving clouds.
Mountains rose sharp and shadowed, the sea flashing in silver slivers when the train curved toward the coast. She knew these colours-a green so deep it was almost black, slate-grey peaks, the silver shimmer of the water, and the white specks of sheep scattered over hillsides.
The station at Blaenau Ffestiniog was just as she remembered, three platforms, small enough to cross in thirty strides.
The coffee shop on the corner still had its sign in the same faded green.
Mrs. Hughes was behind the counter as always, cheeks like shiny red apples, her white and pink floral dress peeking out under a well-worn cardigan.
Her granddaughter, Ffion, wasn't there today, but Rune remembered her last phase – fire-red hair and enough piercings to qualify as a lethal weapon.
Rune had once had a nose ring herself but that felt like a lifetime ago.
She stepped off the train, only to be immediately engulfed in a bear hug. She hadn't seen him coming, but she smelled him instantly, the sharp whiff of engine oil, the rusty tang of metal, and the warm, salty trace of sweat.
The smell of home.
"There's my little lass, yeah?" her Da said gruffly as if he hadn’t seen her just months back. "All grown up. Come on now, your mum's waiting."
The drive back to their semi-detached took them past abandoned slate heaps on the mountainside and the stone walls, sheep grazing right up to the roadside. The clouds hung low over the mountains, the air sharper than London's but also cleaner and somehow tangled with memory.
Her Da was a couple of inches taller than her, her mum matched his height exactly. Rune had the same grey-blue eyes as her Da while her slightly upturned nose and full, sensual lips came from her mother.
The homecoming was warm hugs and kisses, her mum fussing over her coat and hair, her eyes suspiciously wet as she held Rune for a few extra seconds.
"Let me look at you. Oh, Roo Bach*, you're too thin. That London food doesn't stick to your bones, does it?"
"Mam..." Rune laughed, while rolling her eyes.
Her mum waved her off, linking her arm through Rune's as they headed for the house.
"Now, you've missed plenty while you've been away.
You know Megan up at the post office? Well, her Idris has finally had that knee done, oh, the trouble he gave the surgeon, bechod**.
And Carys, still running that café by the police station, but she's taken to baking bara brith every Thursday, so we've all put on a stone. "
Her father just rolled his eyes and followed them in.
"And remember little Tomos from next door?
He's taller than you now, can you believe it?
Sixteen and acting like he owns the place, that lad.
Oh, and Bethan's sheep got out again last week; they ended up blocking the high street for half an hour, and the police had to come and everything.
You should've seen it, it was like a parade, yeah? "
Rune smiled, letting the stream of words wash over her.
Her mum's voice was rapid, lilting, slipping in and out of Welsh without pause, every sentence punctuated with "yeah?
" inviting Rune to nod along. It was like a comfort blanket thrown over her shoulders.
By the time they reached the kitchen, her mum was already telling her about the cake sale and the scandal involving Mr. Evans and the church roof fund.
It was loud, familiar, and perfect.
Dinner was her mother's special roast, homemade bread, and a medley of vegetables from the garden. Rune didn't even pull a face at the green beans or peas, her childhood nemeses. She just ate them. Her parents exchanged a quick glance across the table.
"No complaints?" her mum teased, clearing her throat. Rune only smiled, not looking up.
"It's so nice to see you." Her mother's eyes softened. "How long are you staying?"
"Ah... maybe a while," Rune said lightly. "I've been fired."
Her parents' expressions changed as they exchanged worried glances. Rune tried to keep her tone as soothing as possible. "I thought I'd look for work. Maybe Nana and Gramps would let me help on the farm."
Suddenly, it was too much, keeping it all in. The holding it all in and not having anything to show for it. She set down her fork. "I... I'm so tired..." The words fractured and yet again, her eyes filled with helpless tears.
"Is everything okay, love?" her mother asked in a worried voice.
"Yes... No..." Rune swallowed before blurting. "I'm pregnant."
The rest wouldn't come as she struggled for words to explain to her parents that she was on her way to becoming an unwed mum.
Her food was abandoned and she grabbed the napkin to pretend to wipe the corner of her mouth but really, it was a ruse to have something in her hands.
One hand covered her eyes as tears slipped free.
"I'm so sorry, Ma. I was such a fool. I was such a fool,"
Her ma was flustered and looked at her Da. Her Da looked like a thundercloud rolling in.
"That's it," he growled. "Who's this young whippersnapper? I have half a mind to march to London and plant him one."
"It’s a long way to march, Da," Rune teased, in better control now, grateful for the familiar ground beneath her feet. She shook her head. "I won't stay long."
"Don't be daft," her ma said firmly. "Where else would you go? Look at you-pregnant with my first grandchild and looking..." She searched for the right word. "llwgu."***
"You're staying here. You'll need help with the child. I'm retired-what else am I to do?"
Rune was crying in earnest now, her nose blocked. She was not a pretty crier.
Her father pointed a fork at her and confirmed that suspicion. "Your mum is right, you know. Look like a bloody tomato. Stop it now, lass."
Her Da was Irish, her Ma a mix of Welsh with a dash of Spanish, though she'd been raised here.
Her father had once worked on her grandparents' farm, and somewhere between mucking out stalls and milking cows, they'd fallen in love.
Rune had heard the "shotgun wedding" story more times than she could count, her gramps always telling it with relish and embellishing it more and more at every turn.
Maybe her child would not know his father. But at least he would have his mum and his grandparents who would love him to bits. It was good to be home.
bach*-small
bechod**-shame
llwgu*-(Welsh)- starved