She walked between us for the duration and I couldn’t help wondering if she was concerned we might not be able to control ourselves and would start making out in the street.
“You can’t stay mad at me for long, dear sister,” Gwyn said, his usual charming demeanour even more exaggerated by the alcohol. He linked his arm through hers and she shot him an unimpressed look.
“And what if it had been someone else who came looking for you, eh? How would you have explained that?
“But it wasn't, was it? You worry too much.”
“Ten years, Gwynfor! I worry about you being hauled in front of the magistrate and locked up for ten years. And you,” she said, turning to me. I’d been attempting to stay silent and unnoticed while she delivered her lecture, but I had no such luck. “Are you trying to get yourself tossed out into the street? Do you think Mr Hopkin would have been so forgiving if he’d walked in on you?”
I remained silent. I didn’t have anything that could counter what she was saying that was in any way defensible.
“You two will be the death of me,” she said, finally linking her arm into mine and connecting us all together. “If I catch you both being so stupid again…” She left her threat hanging in the air, the message loud and clear.
When we reached the cottage Mair set about lighting lamps and bringing the fire to life while Gwyn poured out three drinks. I removed my coat and headed for the armchair near the window, drawing the curtain closed before I sat.
“Why are you so…” I struggled to find a word, “forgiving?”
Mair sat on the floor holding a log for the fire and considered my question for a moment.
“It’s not my job to forgive, Tom. I can’t say I understand it, but I suppose I don’t need to. We all love differently and I don’t think God made anyone wrong. As long as my brother is safe and happy, I’ve no business poking my nose in.”
I was impressed with her attitude. I’d met people less tolerant and progressive even in my own time and I was sure her stance was not one imitated by many in this one. It made my respect for her grow even stronger.
“Right,” Mair stood up and brushed the dust from her hands, “I need to get out of this dress so I’m going to bed. Don’t stay up drinking too late.”
She gave us both a kiss on the cheek and then left for her bedroom.
I turned my attention to Gwyn. “How does she even know?”
He handed me a drink and grinned at the question. “I was about nineteen, I think. Mair would have been about fifteen. I’d come home from the pub, drunk. Far drunker than I’d ever been before or since. I’d spent a year pining for Billy Evans and for some reason I saw fit to tell her about it. I woke up mortified and tried to take it back but she was wise enough to know better. You’re the only other person I’ve ever spoken about it with.
“So, you don’t make a habit of getting caught then?” I said with a smirk.
“Not if I can help it,” he said, setting his glass down and edging towards me. He put his hands on either arm of my chair and leaned in for a kiss. I brought my hands up to his face and ran my fingers through his beard, enjoying the feel of him being so close.
“Come with me,” he said, pulling me up from the chair and leading me to his room.
About an hour later I lay in Gwyn's bed watching the snow falling outside the window. He’d gotten up to get drinks and I waited amongst the sheets for his return, lost in my thoughts. My mind kept running through the events of the evening and I felt changed. Relaxed. At peace. I couldn’t even remember the last time I wasn’t worrying over something but since I’d arrived here things had made me different. I wanted to see my mother and brother again but I felt sure now that I didn’t want to go back. Or at least, I didn’t want to go back to how things were, living to work and constantly feeling stressed out and uptight. I was finally, for the first time in a long time, allowing myself to enjoy life, even if it was a life that had been thrust upon me.
Gwyn soon returned to the room with drinks, naked but for a thin sheet around his waist, and climbed back into bed beside me.
“I’m freezing,” he said as he wrapped his arm around me. I lay, still in my thoughts, propped on a pillow with my arms behind my head, basking in the moment.
“What do you miss?” he asked as if reading my thoughts. He ran his fingers back and forth across my chest giving me goose pimples all over my skin from his touch.
“Normal clothes” I replied. “And flushing toilets. Oh, hot showers, definitely. I want a shower so bad. My car. Indian food. I love Indian food.”
“What about your family?” he asked, making me realise I’d left them off my list.
“Them, too, obviously. My brother, especially. I think this is the longest we’ve ever been apart.”
“Is he like you?”
“We look alike but that’s about where the similarities end.”
“What’s it like where you come from?”
“It’s different, but sort of the same. People don’t change, I’ve realised, but everything is faster, busier. Everybody drives cars, with engines, no horses, and they fill the streets. If we had a car we could get to Aberystwyth from here in about fifteen minutes.”