Chapter 33
You’ve ruined me
“Are you sure you don’t mind?” Connor asks for the millionth time this morning.
“Of course I don’t! I can cope on my own for a couple of hours,” I say, rolling my eyes at him playfully.
When Andy sent Connor a message asking if he wanted to grab lunch and catch up today, Connor was ready to decline because he didn’t want to ‘abandon’ me.
Luckily, I found out before he sent his reply and convinced him to go.
The guilt of keeping him from having a good time with his old friend would have eaten me alive.
“I remember there used to be a book shop nearby somewhere, I think I might try to hunt it down,” I add.
This seems to settle Connor’s concern somewhat, and the lines on his forehead smooth. “Okay. But keep your phone on in case you get lost. And don’t walk around with your earbuds in.”
“Yes, Dad,” I reply sarcastically. “I’ve been a fully functioning human for a while now, Connor. I can survive a little walk around town.”
“Okay, okay!” He laughs and puts his arms around me. “I know I’m being overprotective, but I can’t help it. You are all I ever think about. I can tell you right now I won’t be able to focus on anything Andy says today because my attention will always fly back to you. You’ve ruined me, Tilly.”
Connor kisses me with enough passion to make my head spin in the most delicious way. After he pulls away, he grabs his phone and wallet and heads out the door with a final warning to ‘Be careful’.
Once the door clicks shut, I collect my own things together ready to leave for a couple of hours. With a final glance around to check I haven’t forgotten anything, I turn off the light and leave.
Alone with my thoughts for the first time in days, I quietly hum a tune in an attempt to distract my mind.
I take my time going down the stairs and stop humming for a moment when I pass by an old man going the other way.
When I reach the foyer, I lower my sunglasses from my head to my eyes and fling open the front door, ready to bask in the glorious sunshine we’ve been blessed with so far.
“Oh.” My shoulders drop as I take in the weather.
The clear blue sky has been replaced by a miserable grey, with clouds covering most of the weak sun.
Brisk winds whip up the sea across from the hotel, its waves crashing onto the barren beach.
Pulling my denim jacket tighter around myself, I set off towards the shops, leaving my sunglasses on to hide what’s left of the bruise around my eye.
As I walk along the long road, my thoughts wander to Connor, and I can’t help but smile.
How did I get lucky enough to be with someone like him?
He’s kind, funny and considerate, not to mention good looking.
When I’m around him, I feel at peace. He calms me.
He’s about as close to perfect as a person could be, and he’s mine.
I still don’t understand how or why he loves me, but he does.
At least for now. Sooner or later, he’ll realise that we’re not evenly matched and leave me, and I won’t blame him.
I’ll be devastated, but I won’t blame him.
The skies darken even further, and I quicken my pace so I reach the shelter of the shops before it rains, but when I get to the high street, I find I don’t recognise anything.
Stores I remember from my childhood have disappeared, and new ones have opened selling souvenirs and fast food.
With the clouds rolling in, I duck into a souvenir shop just in time to miss the fat drops of rain that start to fall.
Deciding to make the most of it and choose a cheesy souvenir to take home, I turn towards the nearest shelves.
I glance at the usual tea towels and trinkets, posters and pens, but my eye is drawn to a display case in the corner.
The sign above reads ‘Welsh Love Spoons’, and when I reach the glass cabinet, I see it’s full of intricately carved wooden spoons.
Each one is unique, with their handles being made of interlacing shapes and symbols and even their bowls being unusual shapes.
A small sign on a stand inside the case explains that love spoons were originally carved from a single piece of wood by men for the women they loved, to show their affection.
He would carve the handle to symbolise his hopes and intentions, such as a key or keyhole, showing he wanted them to share a home.
The most popular symbol was, unsurprisingly, the heart, to show true love.
Using the sign to help me, I interpret each spoon until my gaze lands on one towards the back.
Attached to the heart-shaped bowl is the polished handle featuring an anchor for security, knotted vines covered in leaves for growing love, ending with beautifully carved flowers for affection. It’s perfect.
“Excuse me?” I say to the man behind the counter.
He’s easily in his sixties, has thinning white hair and a belly that hangs over his trousers to the point that his belt buckle isn’t visible.
He smiles warmly. “Yes, cariad! How can I help?”
“Could I have one of the love spoons, please?”
“Course! Now, you just give me a minute to find the key.” He steps off the stool with more grace than I expected for someone his age and rummages around under the counter. “Ah, there it is!”
He pulls the small silver key from under the counter and walks around to the cabinet in front of me. “Seen one you like, have you?” he asks cheerfully as he rattles the key in the lock.
“Yes, the one at the back on the middle shelf.” I point to it, despite him having his back to me.
You really are a moron, aren’t you?
“Ah yes, I remember making this one,” he says as he reaches for it. “It was a bugger to make but turned out quite well, if I do say so myself.”
He holds it out for me, and I accept it carefully.
“You made these yourself?” I ask in awe.
“Every one,” he replies proudly. “Made in the traditional way. I customise them too if you’re interested?”
“How do you mean?”
“I can engrave them with names. It will only take ten minutes and doesn’t cost extra.”
I consider it for a minute. Would it come across as too strong if I bought a love spoon with mine and Connor’s names carved into it only a couple of days after our first date?
I don’t want to scare him away so soon. Then again, Connor told me he loves me before we even got to our first date, so I figure my gesture would be considered appropriate.
“That would be great, thank you!” I smile at the man and hand him back the spoon, exchanging it for a piece of paper so I can write down the names I want.
“You just have a look around now and I’ll shout you when it’s done.”
Before I have chance to properly take in the rest of the items in the small shop, my phone buzzes in my bag. The display says the message is from Connor (his number now very much unblocked from my phone), and I smile when I open it.
Connor
Did you manage to dodge the rain?
Me
Yeah, just reached the shops when it started. Picking out a keepsake to remember our holiday while I shelter
Connor
I’m pretty sure I’ll remember this trip forever, souvenir or not
It’s where you made me the happiest man in the world
I wouldn’t say no to a stick of rock, though
I laugh to myself and turn to find the selection of rock a couple of shelves away.
I snap a selfie with the display, after making sure most of my face is hidden by my sunglasses and cap, and send it to Connor with the caption ‘See anything you like?’ I’ve barely pressed the send button when my phone rings with an incoming call.
I swipe to answer and hold it to my ear.
“To be clear, I was talking about rock flavours.” I smile down the phone as I look through the selection.
“What are you talking about, Mat?”
My stomach drops. That’s not Connor’s voice. Panicked, I check the name on my screen and realise I’ve picked up a call from Rhys by mistake. Shit.
“Erm…” My mind races as I try to figure out what to do. I should just hang up or tell him to fuck off, but my brain won’t send the right signals to allow me to do either. My fight, flight or freeze response has kicked in, and apparently, I’ve chosen to freeze.
“Matilda, where the hell are you?” Rhys sighs. “I came over to your fucking boyfriend’s house to talk to you.”
“We’re not there,” I say quietly.
“Obviously. That’s why I had to phone you!”
I flinch at his tone but try to keep my voice even so I don’t attract attention in the tiny shop. “What do you want?”
“I want you to stop being stupid and come the fuck home!”
I feel my heart start to pound in my chest and lean on a shelf of teddies wearing i love llandudno T-shirts, for support.
I’d stupidly assumed that my telling Rhys I wanted a divorce was the end of us, and I’d pretty much forgotten all about him for a couple of glorious days, so hearing his voice has come as a shock.
“Home?” I repeat. “I don’t have a home with you anymore, Rhys.”
“For fuck’s sake, Matilda. I’ve given you a couple of days to be dramatic and now I’m done. Come. Home.”
“I don’t live with you anymore, and I want a divorce,” I whisper-shout into my phone and switch it to my other ear, slightly further away from the shop owner, who’s currently trying to eavesdrop while he works.
“We’re not getting a divorce.” Rhys’s confident tone takes me by surprise, and for a moment I’m speechless.
“I… What…? Yes, yes, we are!” I finally say.
“No, we’re not, Muffin.”
I flinch at the sound of my old nickname and swallow a mouthful of bile.
“Shall I tell you why?” Rhys asks casually.
I nod reluctantly, then realise he can’t see me. “Yes.”
“Because you’re going to come home to be my wife again.
You will call off this ridiculous fling you’re having, which I’m willing to eventually forgive you for, by the way, and move back in with me.
You will never speak to your friend again, and you will only leave the house for work or if you’re with me so I can keep an eye on you.
And you will do all of this without complaining because if you don’t, I’ll be going straight to the police. ”
“The police?” I scoff. “It’s not illegal for a woman to divorce her cheating husband. What the hell would they charge me with?”
“Not you,” Rhys replies with glee. “Connor.”
“I don’t understand.”
You dragged Connor into your drama again, and now he’s in the firing line.
I pull myself deeper into the shop to avoid being overheard and press my phone closer to my head so I can hear Rhys over the ringing in my ears.
“The day you walked out on us, Connor came over and attacked me. It was totally unprovoked, and I was vulnerable seeing as my wife had just abandoned me. At the time, I was too intimidated to go to the police in case he took his temper out on me again, but I’m starting to feel braver.
I might take a trip to the station and make a statement.
Unless” – I take a sharp breath as I wait for the final blow I know is coming – “you agree to my terms.”
This can’t be happening. I’ve misheard. Rhys wouldn’t do this to me. We’ve had our problems, but he’s never been this cruel and controlling, has he?
“You can’t be serious.” Please say you’re not being serious.
“Oh, I am,” he says, his smile evident in his voice.
“Ball’s in your court, Matilda. Come home and be a proper fucking wife or I go to the police and lay it on really thick about how Connor assaulted me.
If I play it right, I might be able to get him done for ABH.
That’s, what? Up to five years in prison? ”
Five years in prison because he was trying to defend me.
You’re not worth that.
I can’t let Connor get into trouble over me; it would ruin his life. He’d lose his job and possibly the house. He’d lose everything.
But how can I go back to Rhys after everything that’s happened? After seeing how love is supposed to be?
“I…” I know what I have to do, but agreeing to a lifetime of misery is difficult. “Please don’t do this.”
“I don’t have all day, Mat,” Rhys says, clearly frustrated that I’m not jumping at his offer. “Make your choice. Now.”
“Okay,” I say with a defeated sigh. Tears fill my eyes thinking about my future as I return to my past.
“Say that again?” Rhys asks, even though I’m pretty sure he heard me the first time.
“I said ‘Okay’. I’ll come back. But I need some time first.”
“Time? What the hell do you need time for? Tell the guy to fuck off, then get your arse back to my house!”
Rhys is shouting now, signalling my tears to fall.
“We’ve gone on a trip.” I sniffle and wipe my nose on the back of my hand. “I don’t have my car, and I can’t just up and leave…”
“For fuck’s sake, Matilda, why do you have to make everything so fucking difficult?”
“I’m sorry,” I say through my tears.
“Be here tomorrow morning. If you’re not here by lunchtime, I’m going to the police.” With that, Rhys hangs up as if he hasn’t just ruined my life with one phone call.
My tears start to fall freely as I try to process what Rhys has done. I’ve just started to feel like I could be comfortable, even happy, with Connor, and now it’s all being ripped away from me.
You don’t deserve happiness. Every time you come close, you ruin it because you don’t deserve it. But Connor does. He deserves better.
“Matilda?” A man’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts, and I turn towards the sound, using my sleeve to wipe my face. “Your spoon is ready, cariad.”
I stare at him blankly for several awkward seconds before I recognise him and remember what I was doing before my life was shattered.
“Oh,” I say eventually and stride towards him, feigning confidence.
“Take a look.” The old shopkeeper holds out the love spoon for me to inspect, and I turn it over in my hands. On the back of the heart-shaped bowl of the spoon is my name and Connor’s. I trace the letters with my thumb as a fresh tear escapes.
“What do you think?” he asks after a moment.
“It’s perfect.”
Or rather it would have been perfect. The perfect reminder of our first trip together, where our relationship officially began. Now all it’s good for is reminding me of what might have been.
“And what about you? Are you alright?” he asks me cautiously, clearly uncomfortable at having to deal with a crying woman.
“I’m fine.” I shake my head and try to smile, which seems to appease him.
He takes my money for the spoon and puts it into a paper bag for me. As I’m about to leave, he calls me back.
“You know, I always find a walk on the pier clears the head. You should give it a try while the rain has eased off.”
Yeah, and walk right off the end of it.