12. One small act was enough
ONE SMALL ACT WAS ENOUGH
The hill was still heavy with cloud and the air had grown even colder.
Ursula put her arm around Esteban for warmth.
How strange that she should remember that first kiss in such vivid detail.
The tenderness of it. The fragility of those first steps.
Anton’s, not hers. She wondered how long it would have been before he got round to kissing her if she hadn’t instigated it.
He was always a lot more patient than her.
She was such an impetuous thing back then, pushing him into doing things at her pace.
And the red scarf. She’d almost forgotten that.
Whatever happened to that red scarf? Quietly disposed of when its purpose had been met, she supposed.
She’d received a tense apology from Cass when she’d gone to work the next day, and that week she had a pay rise.
It wasn’t spoken about again. Not until much later anyway.
That was Cass’s way. But it must have been hard for her, stuck between two opposing loyalties.
It was obvious by the look on Bernard Fry’s face that he hadn’t known Ursula was working there, but it was bound to come out sooner or later.
Although at the time, Ursula couldn’t know the consequences of it coming out on that particular night.
Esteban let out a single bark. A figure that was obviously a man emerged from the still descending clouds. Suddenly feeling vulnerable up here on her own, Ursula grabbed the dog’s collar. The figure stopped and turned to towards them. ‘That you, Esteban?’ It was the American, Howard.
Esteban was wriggling under her grip, itching to go to him, so she let go of his collar and crawled out of her shelter. ‘Hello there. We stopped for a rest and a coffee.’
Howard came closer. ‘A hot drink sounds pretty good right now. I don’t suppose you have any left?’
‘A little. If you don’t mind sharing my cup. I think I’m fairly germ free.’
‘I’m willing to take the risk. Thanks.’
She poured out the last of the coffee. ‘I had some sandwiches but I’m afraid we ran out of those pretty quickly. Esteban has quite an appetite.’
‘Not a problem. I ate at Megan’s earlier. I was just heading back to the house, if you’re going that way.’
‘I was waiting for the cloud to lift, but it could be a while.’
He handed her back the empty cup. ‘If I’ve learned one thing in all the years I’ve lived in this country, it’s never wait for the cloud to lift.’
She laughed and felt herself relaxing a little. ‘Good advice. Do you live in Wales then?’
‘I live in London. I was rather guilty of generalising when I said this country, but I’ve been coming here for many years. You like my shelter?’
‘Oh, it’s yours? Yes, I do. I hope you don’t mind me using it?’
‘Not at all. Actually, it’s not mine exactly. Gareth made it for me and anyone else who needs a little respite.’
‘Megan’s son?’
‘Yeah. He’s a good kid, although I am a little biased. We’re related. Shall we go down before the rain starts up?’ He let out a single whistle and Esteban stopped circling him and began to walk at his side.
‘So you’re related to Megan?’
‘She’s my wife’s niece.’
‘Oh I didn’t know that. Your wife’s not here with you?’
‘No. Dilys couldn’t make it this year. I’m taking lots of photos and sending them home. And you? What brings you here?’
‘Andi. She’s my oldest friend. We’ve known each other for … gosh, it must be forty-five years now.’
‘Wow! So you know Pablo too?’
‘I do, yes.’ She’d been trying to read his expression, trying to work out how to phrase the answer but it was near to impossible to read this quiet American, so she stuck to a straightforward confirmation.
‘Terrible business. I can see it’s taking its toll on her. I hope you don’t mind me saying that?’
‘Not at all. You’ve seen a change in her then?’
‘Yes. You would have noticed it yourself, I guess.’
Ursula had no answer. She’d just claimed to be Andi’s oldest friend and Howard had rightly made the assumption that she would be close enough to notice the impact of Pablo’s betrayal but the truth was, she wasn’t.
Not only had she not seen Andi for years, she’d hardly spoken to her since Anton’s funeral.
She’d been too tied up with herself, too intent on sticking to her routines.
Too fixed on surviving. They’d made a promise to each other that night when they were high on the feeling of being young and invincible.
They were never going to let anything or anyone come between them.
She’d broken that promise more times than she cared to remember, and maybe Andi had too.
‘Forty-five years. Late seventies then?’ Howard must have got tired of waiting for her to speak. ‘I would like to have known Andi back then. I bet she was even more gutsy.’
‘Yes, she was. Absolutely fearless. She said you come every year.’
‘That’s right. Dilys was raised here. Before Am-nawr was opened we stayed elsewhere, but Dilys liked this place from our first visit. She liked how she could lock herself away for hours or find company when she was ready. She’s a writer. Was a writer.’
They rounded the hill to face the house and saw the lake on the other side of it, glistening like steel through the gaps in the trees. Howard stopped to take a photo.
‘Have you taken many photos for her?’ She couldn’t help thinking Dilys probably knew every inch of this place without the need for a photographic reminder.
‘Hundreds.’ He was gazing in the direction of the lake, but he wasn’t really looking at it. He was obviously far, far away from here and she knew she’d lost him.
‘I’ll see you back at the house.’ She didn’t wait for an acknowledgement.
The man needed to be alone with whatever was troubling him, and he wasn’t listening anyway.
She looked for Esteban and saw him sitting nearby, watching Howard.
He must have decided she no longer needed his protection.
And she didn’t. She could see the bothy down below. Five minutes and she’d be there.
Brett was still toiling away at the crumbling bothy wall. In fact, there seemed to be less of it than there had been when she’d passed by earlier.
‘Esteban not with you?’ he said.
‘He’s not far behind. He’s waiting for Howard.’
‘So that’s where Howard went. He’s supposed to be giving me a hand.’
She sensed the irritation coming off him. ‘I can help. Just tell me what you need doing.’
His face softened. ‘You look frozen. Go in and get warmed up.’
She nodded, grateful he’d refused her offer. ‘Okay, but I’ll come back out when I’ve put on more layers.’
Esme was in the vegetable garden. Ursula couldn’t see what she was doing but it didn’t look to be a lot.
She felt a pang of yearning for her own allotment.
It was almost three. If she’d been back there, she’d have finished her afternoon coffee and would be selecting something for her evening meal now.
Best not to think about it. It only set her on edge.
She gave Esme a wide berth and took the longer path that led to the boot room next to the kitchen.
Inside, the house was quiet. She made herself a hot drink to take up to her room.
As she got to the top of the stairs, she heard crying.
Proper crying this time. Not like Charlie’s.
Human crying, low but constant. It was hard to tell which room it was coming from.
Ursula stood still, listening, wondering if it was Andi and whether she should knock each door until she found out.
She wanted to but there it was again, the reticence that always held her back, always kept her in check.
Small acts of defiance, she reminded herself.
But she’d already walked up that hill and one small act was enough for today, so she went to her room and closed the door behind her.
She got straight into bed and pulled the duvet up to her chin.
Just ten minutes and then she’d go out to Brett.
But she couldn’t properly warm up. In the end, she fished a grey cashmere scarf out of the drawer.
It belonged to Anton and had replaced the mysteriously vanished red one, so it was old.
But it had been well looked after. Preserving things had been another of his passion projects.
She wrapped it around her neck. It didn’t smell of him anymore.
It didn’t smell of anything. Ursula preferred it that way.