Seventeen
In the two weeks since Gwyn had ended things with me, my main focus was to keep things together and act as normally as possible around the farm. Mr Hopkin didn’t seem to notice any changes and kept me busy with work but Teddy picked up on it and continuously followed me around asking me if I was ok. It was sweet that he cared but the constant reminders that I was not, in fact, ok, became irritating quite fast.
I’d only seen Gwyn once in that whole time. I’d popped to the post office to run an errand for Mrs Hopkin and saw him coming out of the pub with a man I’d never seen before. He was more than a little worse for wear and decided to come over to talk to me, and with nowhere to run to I had no option but to face him.
He remained polite throughout our brief chat but as soon as I was able, I made excuses to leave. I wanted more than anything to stay, to listen to anything he had to say on any topic at all, just so that I could spend time with him, but I couldn’t. It hurt all over again to be so close to him and yet feel so distant, and I was worried that I would say something that I shouldn’t, or that he would say something that I didn’t want to hear. Running away was easier.
I had to change my whole routine to get him out of my head. I missed seeing him every day. I missed the way we would sneak off to spend time alone or make excuses to see each other. I missed his smile and his laugh and his touch. The more I thought about it, the more work I took on until I started to think about him a little less each day.
Despite what had occurred, I still saw a lot of Mair. The day after Gwyn and I argued she came to see me to check that I was alright. I wasn't entirely certain what he had told her, but she placed the blame squarely at his feet and I did nothing to contradict that.
She suggested that I go to see him and try to raise his mood. He’d been down, apparently, but I had mixed feelings about it. It was his decision that brought us to this place but I hated the idea of him being sad. I’d heard that he’d been drinking a lot, too. Nan had mentioned seeing him come from the pub one afternoon, and Nellie and Gethin had also seen him sitting on the floor outside one evening. He told them he’d been cut off by Dai and told to go home but had been too drunk to make it any further than the pavement.
I asked Mair about it and she hinted that he’d been drinking at home too, but I got annoyed and changed the subject. I didn’t like the implication, intentional or otherwise, that I may have played a part in him picking up a bottle instead of working through his emotions like the rest of us had to.
I’d returned to Felin Fawr twice since my first visit in the hopes of confronting Arthur. At first, I was told that he was still not back from his trip and the door was shut in my face again, but on the next visit they didn’t even answer. After several attempts to get the attention of someone from inside, I returned to the farm, defeated.
I’d asked around the village for information about his whereabouts but nobody had heard from him in weeks. Even Mrs Wilkes had no information, or at least none that she would part with. The whole situation just made me even madder. Gwyn wanted us to be apart because he couldn’t guarantee I wouldn’t leave, and Arthur having the ring and being out of town ensured that I had to stay. Either way, I was losing out.
And so I continued throwing myself into work on the farm, picking up every job and errand that needed completing and being more productive than I had been since I started helping out there. I’d mended fences and gates, repaired a leak in the cow shed, re-ploughed the fields ready for spring and even made a start on building a new coop for the chickens.
Inside the house had been no different. I’d fixed two of the beds, installed new shelves for Mrs Hopkin in the kitchen, and built a dollhouse with Sophia and a bookcase for all of Nellie's medical journals. There was nothing that I wasn’t willing to do to keep myself occupied.
The chicken coop was proving to be my biggest job of all. They were always running around the yard and the field in front of the house, and more than once we’d had to hop the wall to get them back in off the road. The coop they’d been housed in since long before my arrival was one good gust of wind away from collapsing down on them, and foxes were also becoming a problem, so I’d set about making something better.
Mr Hopkin gave me a budget of fifteen shillings to get supplies from the hardware store in the city and it was enough to build something big and solid with money left over to get some chicken wire for a new fence, too.
I was in the middle of finishing off the roof of the new coop when I looked down the field and saw Gwyn approaching from the gate. I was achy and tired and really didn’t want to have to face him but I knew I couldn’t keep running away, either. I stood from my work and hit my hammer against my palm, not considering that it might have seemed threatening given what had gone on between us, and waited to see what he’d come for.
“You ok?” he asked, leaning on the coop. I stared at it nervously, hoping my creation was as sturdy as I’d intended it to be.
“Yeah, you? How are those ribs?” I asked, pointing the hammer in his direction.
“Better,” he said, rubbing his hand along his side. The motion caught my attention but I kept my eyes trained on his face.
And then there was silence. Conversation for us had never been this difficult but I had nothing to say and no idea why he’d come when I was finally starting to feel a bit better about him not being around.
“Is there something I can help you with?” I asked. I didn’t intend for it to sound so cold but I knew that it did and did nothing to correct it.
“I just wanted to see you.”
That annoyed me even more and this time I couldn’t help sounding angry. “What for?”
“To see how you’re doing.” He left another awkward pause and I could feel my frustration building. “I still care about you.”
“How is your friend from the pub?” I didn’t want to ask, I knew I shouldn’t ask, but I couldn’t stop myself from spitting it out. I was jealous when I saw them, and even though I was certain there was nothing to be jealous about, I was still jealous now that I was thinking about it again.
“Don’t do that,” he said. The way he shook his head at me made me feel as pathetic as I probably sounded and it filled me with anger.
“Don’t do what?”
“He’s a friend.”
“So was I.” I hated how petty and jealous I was coming off but I just couldn’t stop myself.
“He’s just a friend,” he clarified. “There’s nobody else. There hasn't been anyone else. There’s only you. It’ll only ever be you.”
His comment took me by surprise and I dropped the hammer on the ground, narrowly missing my foot. We both reached for it, though he got there first, and I immediately got a twinge in my neck making me recoil in pain.