Chapter 10
‘This is a nice surprise,’ Fiona said, for probably the third time since Bill had picked her up in his car this morning, and he smiled. It warmed his heart to think how happy a little trip out made her. He hadn’t seen her for a couple of days, not since the jumble sale, because having been in each other’s pockets all day Friday and most of Saturday, he’d assumed she could do with a break from him.
He had also felt quite tired Sunday and hadn’t been up for doing more than walking Patch or slumping in front of the telly. He had felt livelier yesterday, but had spent the day catching up on chores, of which there had been several, and working in his garden.
Today, however, he had woken up full of beans and wanting to make the most of the day and do something different, so when he took Patch for an early walk to stretch his legs, he debated what he could do for a change. As usual, he was tempted to head to the coast, but the thought of exploring somewhere like Abergavenny or Hay-on-Wye also appealed. Both were market towns, set in glorious countryside. Then he remembered something he’d read, and he knew where he wanted to go – Brecon. Like the other two, it was a small town near the border with England, and like the others it was nestled in the bottom of a lush valley which was surrounded by mountains. But Brecon had something the others didn’t – boat trips along the canal.
In the past Bill had found that going places on one’s own (even with Patch) hadn’t been as much fun as he’d anticipated, and although he had enjoyed himself, it wasn’t quite the same as sharing it with someone, whether it was a lovely view or a nice meal.
As he’d strolled through the meadow, he wondered whether Fiona would like to join him, so as soon as he got back from his walk he had given her a call. She had seemed rather taken aback when he’d said he was off to Brecon and wanted to know whether she would like to come with him, but she readily agreed.
‘I haven’t been to Brecon for years,’ she repeated now, having said the same thing on the phone. She was sitting in the passenger seat of his car, gazing at the scenery with a smile on her face. They were currently pootling along the A470, which was the main trunk road from Cardiff in the south, to the pretty market town of Brecon on the other side of the famous mountain range where the SAS trained.
Bill smiled to himself as he thought of the surprise in store for her. First though, there was some stunning scenery to enjoy as the road wound its way through the mountain pass.
‘Ooh! Look at all those people,’ Fiona cried, pointing to the right, and Bill risked a glance to see a line of people hiking up a mountain track. From the road they looked tiny, putting the size of the mountain into perspective. He didn’t envy them the trek.
‘They’re going up to the summit of Pen Y Fan,’ he said. ‘Have you ever been to the top?’
‘Not on your life! It’s too steep and too far for me. David hiked up there when he did his Duke of Edinburgh Award in school. He said the view from the top was awesome, but I’ve never been tempted. Have you?’
‘I’ve been to the top once or twice when I was younger. Not up for it now, obviously.’ His knees wouldn’t thank him for it.
Fiona laughed. It was a light, carefree sound, and he chuckled in response. They hadn’t arrived at Brecon yet and he was already having more fun than he’d had since— Ah, best not go there. Those memories were better off not being aired, especially not today.
As they dropped down into the wide valley where Brecon nestled, Fiona’s thoughts moved away from hiking up the third highest peak in Wales. ‘I still can’t believe how much the jumble sale raised. We did a good job, didn’t we?’
‘We certainly did.’
‘I hope the tea dance is as successful.’
‘It will be.’ He noticed her nibbling her bottom lip out of the corner of his eye. ‘Almost all the tickets have been sold,’ he reminded her, in case she was worried about the turnout.
‘It’s not that, it’s…’ She trailed off.
‘The catering?’ he guessed, knowing how important it was to her to make an impression. The future of the cafe in the park might depend on it. He didn’t know what she was so concerned about, she was a brilliant baker and a fantastic cook.
She nodded. ‘I’m out of practice.’
Bill snorted. ‘You could have fooled me! Look at all those cakes you baked for the jumble sale.’
‘That was different.’
‘In what way? Because it was just a jumble sale and not a tea dance ?’ He emphasised the last two words. ‘It’ll probably be many of the same people there, Fi. Half of Sweet Meadow must have turned up on Saturday.’
Fi… he had called her Fi , not Fiona. He hoped she didn’t mind the familiarity.
‘I suppose you’re right,’ she conceded.
‘And you know most of them. Heck, you probably know all of them. And they know you. You’ve been serving them for decades.’
Fiona harrumphed. ‘Stop it with the decades.’ But there was a smirk on her lips.
Dropping down out of the mountains, the road levelled off as they entered the outskirts of the pretty market town, and Bill fell silent as he concentrated on negotiating the traffic, arriving at the car park with a sigh of relief. He’d never been much of a driver – having spent most of his life onboard ship – and navigating unfamiliar streets was stressful, but he’d got them there in one piece and now he could relax.
‘Oh, how pretty!’ Fiona exclaimed as she spotted the start of the canal with its small boats and barges moored up. The Monmouthshire and Brecon Canal originated at this point, meandering through thirty-five miles of verdant countryside, and the Brecon stretch was particularly popular. Bill had chosen this car park for that very reason.
After finding a space and unclipping Patch from his seatbelt harness, Bill suggested a quick look around the town, then lunch in one of the many cafes.
‘Or we could go to the Castle Hotel? I’ve been told it’s very good.’ They had outside tables, so hopefully Patch would be welcome. He kicked himself for not checking beforehand.
‘A cafe will be fine.’ Fiona took his arm as they walked down the side street from the parking area to the main part of the town.
It was years since Bill had been here (not since he was a schoolboy) and he was relieved to find that it hadn’t changed much. It still sported quirky independent shops and had a bustling atmosphere, although he hadn’t appreciated it at the time.
Fiona paused to stare through the window of an art gallery. ‘I like that one,’ she said, pointing to an oil painting of a coastline. ‘And that.’
They must all be by the same artist, Bill thought, noticing the similarities in style and composition. They were very good; expensive though, and he had nowhere to hang one, as all of them were quite large. Anyway, they would look out of place in his old-fashioned house.
They moved on, strolling along the street, happily window shopping. Bill didn’t need anything, but it was a nice change being somewhere different. And it was even nicer being there with Fiona.
Her pleasure was lovely to see. She kept pointing things out, chattering away, her face shining. He was very aware of the arm which she had threaded through his and having her by his side gave him a warm feeling.
After a nice wander around the stalls in the market hall, plus a nose in an antique shop (with Patch safety tucked under Bill’s arm, in case the dog happened to bump into something), they were ready for lunch.
A cafe with planters outside which were filled with colourful flowers drew them in, especially since a sign in the window proclaimed that dogs were welcome. After finding a vacant table and perusing the menu, Bill went up to the counter to place their order.
‘What can I get you?’ a smiling lady asked, looking up as she slid a delicious-looking scone onto a plate.
‘One smoked salmon on a brioche roll, and a fried chicken burger, please.’
‘Can I get you any drinks to go with it?’
‘Tea, for me, please.’
‘And for your wife?’
Taken by surprise, Bill blurted, ‘Oh, Fiona isn’t my wife. She’s just a friend.’
But there was no just about it. It occurred to him that he was beginning to think of her as a very dear friend, and as he turned around to ask her what she would like to drink, his heart skipped a beat.
Patch was perched on Fiona’s lap, and they were nose to nose as the terrier stared into her eyes. Her lips were moving and although Bill couldn’t hear what she was saying, Patch seemed to like it. His tail was wagging, and his ears were pricked.
Seeing the pair of them together like that, no one could be blamed for thinking that Fiona was Patch’s person. The dog adored her, and she seemed quite smitten with Patch. Far from feeling put out or usurped, Bill was gladdened, and it warmed his heart. Patch was a good judge of character and he clearly thought the world of Fiona. Ever since she and Bill had decided to work together on the reopening of the cafe, the dog always greeted Fiona with excited whimpers and lots of ecstatic tail wagging.
Whilst Bill waited for their drinks (the food would be delivered to their table when it was ready), his attention kept straying to his companion. Once more he thought what an attractive woman she was. She must have been quite a catch in her day. Heck, she still was! Any man would be proud to have her on his arm.
He returned to their table, carefully balancing the tray with their drinks on it, and set it down. She popped Patch back on the floor, but not before she had bestowed a kiss on the dog’s furry little head. Patch’s happy smile seemed to echo Fiona’s beaming grin.
‘This is getting to be a habit,’ she said, pouring the tea.
‘A good one, I hope?’
‘Definitely. Let’s continue to have a meal out now and again, after we’re done with fundraising.’
‘Yes, let’s. Although, you might be sick of food once the cafe is up and running.’
‘Don’t you believe it! I’ll be too busy making and serving the sandwiches and cakes, to be able to eat them. Besides, I’ll want to be waited on for a change.’
Bill stirred his tea, thinking. ‘I suggest we combine it with a day out somewhere. There are so many lovely places within an hour’s drive from Sweet Meadow.’
‘That would be marvellous.’
Just then their food arrived and conversation halted for a while as they tucked in, and as he ate Bill discovered that he was very much looking forward to continuing their friendship, and another day out would be smashing. Hopefully today’s outing would be the first of many.
‘There’s more tea in the pot,’ Fiona said. ‘Fancy a top-up? And maybe a slice of cake for afters?’
Bill scrambled to think of a reason to refuse. ‘Not for me thanks,’ he replied, hoping she wouldn’t have one if he didn’t, and adding for good measure, ‘They looked a bit stale to me.’ He whispered this last bit, worried that someone might overhear. The cakes actually looked delicious, but having one now would scupper his plans.
Her face fell. ‘That’s a shame.’
When they retraced their steps to the car park, Bill sensed a vague disappointment emanating from her, and he guessed she wasn’t ready to go home just yet but didn’t like to say anything.
On reaching the area where the Brecon Canal began, Bill suggested a quick stop to admire the boats that were moored up. With pretty cottages on the one side of the water, and a building that housed a theatre and a cafe on the other which also had outdoor seating, the area was busy with people enjoying the view.
Checking his watch, Bill led Fiona nearer to the boats. A couple of barges were tied up, their long narrow shapes reminiscent of a bygone age, alongside some smaller vessels.
‘This must be small fry to you,’ she joked, eyeing the boats. ‘Oh, look, they hire them out.’
‘They also do trips,’ he said, reaching for her hand. ‘Come on, let’s go on one.’
Fiona hung back. ‘Don’t you have to book?’
His smile was wide. ‘I already have. We’re going on a two-hour punt along the canal, with drinks and cakes included.’
She halted, pulling free and putting her hands on her hips. Narrowing her eyes, she said, ‘There wasn’t anything wrong with those cakes, was there?’
‘No.’
‘That was sneaky!’
He made a face and began to turn away. ‘If you don’t want to go—’
‘I do!’ she cried, digging him in the ribs with her elbow.
Laughing, he grabbed her hand again. Today was proving to be even more fun than he’d hoped, and he was enjoying himself immensely. That the enjoyment had a great deal to do with the woman whose hand he was clasping so tightly, wasn’t something he wanted to think about too deeply right now…