“News of Arthur,” I said, and he suddenly looked as annoyed as I felt.
“He’s back?”
“No, just living the high life somewhere and she wanted to make sure I knew about it.”
“How do you feel about that?” He asked, and I came to a stop on the path.
“I don’t know,” I said with a sigh. “I’d gotten used to the fact that I might never see him or the ring again.”
“And now?”
“I don’t know, Gwyn.” I was trying to keep my voice calm. I could feel myself getting frustrated but I knew it wasn’t his fault.
“Do you still want to leave?” he asked.
I didn’t want to keep him hanging on but I just didn’t feel like I could give him a definitive answer. Betty told me to make a decision based on what it was that I wanted, but I hadn’t had five minutes of peace to even think about what that might be. I decided to just go with the truth.
“I want to be with you, Gwyn, but I miss my family. At the moment I don’t have a choice to go home, but maybe one day I will and it will be the hardest choice I’ll ever have to make because I can’t have both you and them. I don’t want to make a promise to you that I might not be able to keep and I don’t want you to lose your nerve and end things if you get scared that I might leave you. We have to both be certain. Does that make any sense at all?”
He brought a hand to my cheek and smiled at me. “Tom, I’ve never been more certain of anything. I choose you, every time, and I’ll wait forever until you’re ready. Take your time and think it through. Do what’s right for you.”
He gave me a wink and jogged off back down the road leaving me alone on the path to the farm. Betty’s words ran through my mind over and over as I walked the rest of the way to the farm. What is it that I want? Deep down it felt like I’d already decided. I just had to bite the bullet and admit it to myself.
“Here you go,” I said, dropping the sacks down on the counter in the kitchen. Mrs Hopkin gave me a nod in acknowledgement and carried on mixing whatever it was that was in the bowl in front of her. “Shall I make tea?”
“It’s in the jug,” she said. “You can pour me one out. I’d say I’ve earned it.”
“Have you much left to do?” I asked as I took a seat at the table, trying to stay out of her way. It was nice to see her working in the kitchen again after so long. Smiles were still a rare sight, but the more she busied herself, the more the old Mrs Hopkin seemed to come through.
“More than I’d like and I haven’t even started on dinner yet.
“It’s a shame we can't have a takeaway delivered,” I said.
“What’s one of them?” she asked. She plopped herself down at the table and scrunched her nose up as she often did when I said things she didn’t understand and I tried to figure out the simplest, most time-appropriate way of explaining it.
“Where I come from, back in Cambridge, there are shops that make dinner for you. You give them your order and then they deliver it, ready for you to eat.”
“Well, well,” she said, filled with shock. “Imagine that. I imagine there are a fair few wives out there who wouldn’t mind being able to call on a service like that. I can’t imagine the menfolk would like it much, though. Mr Hopkin is quite particular about what I put in front of him.”
“Well, they wouldn’t be able to beat your cooking anyway, Mrs Hopkin.”
She smiled at me briefly, then, as though remembering that she shouldn’t, her face quickly returned to neutral.
“I’m still waiting for you to teach me to make bread, don’t forget.”
“Oh, get out,” she said, slapping my hand. “You can barely pour hot water in a cup, I’m not letting you near my ovens.”
“Then you better start using them more often, then, because between you and me,” I leaned in close and dropped my voice to a whisper, “Nan’s a much better boxer than she is a baker.”
Mrs Hopkin let out a laugh and brought her cup to her mouth to hide her smile. “Right, you, go and get washed and dressed. You’re not sitting at my table in that state.”
After dinner that evening I called around to see Mair as arranged. Her visits had been getting less frequent and whenever I’d tried to arrange for us to meet she would make excuses about being too busy. I’d mentioned it to Gwyn, wondering if perhaps I’d done something to upset her, but he said she’d been acting the same way with him and was spending a lot of time out of the house lately. He also reminded me that this was Mair, and if she was upset about anything then we would all know about it, so while it put my mind to rest, it also piqued my interest about why she was being so cagey.
“Will you tell her?” she asked, handing me a cup of tea and taking a seat opposite me in her living room.
I’d spent the time since I’d arrived getting her up to speed on Nellie’s wish to train as a nurse, how she believed her father would not allow it and that it was actually Gethin who didn’t want her to be too busy to look after him. Mair had insisted that we could go no further without tea and immediately set about boiling a pot.
“If it was me, I’d want to know.”