The Green Hills of Home (5 page)

"We want our children to
have the joy of growing up surrounded by our families in one of the most
beautiful places on Earth," was how Sarah had explained their decision to
come back and Gwen could more than understand it.

Sarah was up and dressed when
Gwen arrived. She was a small, dark-haired, slightly plump woman, who seemed
made to have a baby resting on each hip. She’d blossomed with motherhood and
Gwen had nothing but respect for her friend and the way she combined raising
her beautiful daughters with her small soft furnishings business, run from the
spare bedroom.

"I had a feeling you'd be
here early!" she said with a smile.

"Sorry," said Gwen grinning
back, "I tried to stay away as long as I could."

"Don't worry; I've been up
since six with the twins anyway. Ever since their cousins showed them cartoons
start then, it’s been impossible to get either of them to stay in bed. It's
like they've got some sort of internal alarm clock."

Gwen followed Sarah along the
little hallway, past the sitting room and into the kitchen – the real heart of
Sarah’s home. With its beautiful wooden worktops and the gorgeous curtains and
chair cushions which Sarah had, naturally, made herself, it was a haven to
relax and chat in, even if occasionally a small jammy finger had got to your
seat before you.

A whirlwind consisting of Oscar
and the two little blonde girls tore its way into the kitchen. Oscar jumped up
at Gwen (something she’d been attempting to persuade him not to do since he was
a puppy, but to no avail) and did his level best to lick as many parts of her
as possible. Gwen was pleased that Oscar seemed so happy to see her, and
laughed at his delight when he found the treats in her jacket pocket.

Owen, a man who towered over his
wife by at least a foot, appeared and offered Gwen a cup of coffee which she
gratefully accepted, before allowing herself to be sat down at the table to
become the morning’s star attraction and fill them both in on her London adventures. The children were handed a packet of custard creams and told they could
watch a DVD, so the adults knew they would be undisturbed for at least a little
while. Oscar settled down on Gwen’s feet but went to join the girls on the sofa
when it became clear that Gwen’s treat supply had now dried up; he could smell
the children’s biscuits and was obviously hoping for some crumbs if not a whole
one to himself.

Sarah and Owen were thrilled to
hear Gwen’s news. "Oh Gwen, that’s fantastic. I bet your Mam’s extremely
proud of you," said Sarah excitedly.

"Yes, she is," answered
Gwen. She refrained from giving details about why the money from her book deal
was so important. Gwen had known both Sarah and Owen since they were at school
together and they were well aware of how much it meant to her to finally be a
writer, but Gwen didn't think that her mother would want her to tell people
about the family's money problems. Gwen herself was also far too proud to admit
to anyone just how close she and her mother had been to losing their home.
Thankfully, by her calculations, this book deal should change all that and make
the mortgage companies willing to take her on.

It took nearly an hour for Sarah
and Owen to get all the information out of Gwen, including her dealings with Mr
Thatcher, and to finally come to the end of their congratulations and their
worries about how Gwen was going to work alongside such a difficult man.

"He doesn’t sound very easy
to work with," said Sarah shuddering.

"What did you do to make him
act like that?" wondered Owen, who was as good a gossip as any girl once
he got going.

"I’m sure she did nothing
wrong," said Sarah, loyally.

"Well they want to have the
book out pretty quickly so there won’t be too much time for us to work together
I suppose, and maybe I’ll have another editor for the next one," said Gwen
hopefully.

Gwen looked at her watch and knew
she ought to be leaving if she was going to fit in a decent walk for Oscar
before her shift at the tearooms. After that, and the shopping, she’d be able
to write. She'd been focussing on her writing for so long, and getting the book
deal had spurred her on to even greater efforts, she couldn’t wait to get back
to her laptop. She worked as few hours at the tearooms as she could to keep
things ticking over. With her mother in hospital there were few interruptions
at home, and as their house was quite isolated, they didn't get many unexpected
visitors. But Gwen tried to meet up with friends regularly, especially Sarah
and Owen, not least because she loved to see their girls, whom she was
godmother to.

Gwen made her farewells and
waited whilst the children said numerous last goodbyes to Oscar. In the end
Sarah distracted them by saying their Daddy had something to show them in the
garden and Gwen could finally slip away.

Gwen’s shift at the tearooms
didn’t start until eleven so she took her time walking Oscar, pleased to be
home and back with him. They were very close, especially now it was just the
two of them in the house, and she was sure he’d missed her just as much as
she’d missed him. She dropped Oscar home and got changed before leaving to
start work. The dog settled himself down on the sofa for a nice doze until his
beloved mistress returned. Occasionally if Gwen had a long shift she’d leave
him with Sarah so he wouldn’t be alone for too long, but he’d be fine by
himself for a few hours today, tired out from his good walk.

The tearooms actually opened at
eight, but Brian the owner, and his wife, Bronwyn, could manage the breakfast
crowd by themselves. Gwen came in to help with lunch and sometimes stayed on
until the end of afternoon teas; it got particularly busy during the summer
months with hungry walkers and campers taking advantage of the ice creams and
hearty meals they served.

Gwen had been employed part-time
at the tearooms since she was fourteen and really was part of the family. She
was given first pick of the shifts available so she was able to arrange work
around her hospital visits and, of course, her writing.

Brian and Bronwyn were good
bosses and old family friends, and Gwen knew all their regulars, but she needed
to write and would never be content to carry on working there indefinitely.

Gwen had had many years to get
used to Bronwyn and Brian’s funny little ways, like the fact that no decision
could be made without a mug of tea, and the different tiers of cup available to
customers depending on what Bronwyn thought of them - ranging from beautiful,
dainty china cups and saucers for much loved regulars, to rather sturdy and
stained brown mugs for untrustworthy tourists with rowdy children in tow.

Bronwyn glanced up as Gwen came
in the door of the tearooms – Gwen suspected she’d been looking out for her for
a while.

"Well hello love" said
Bronwyn expectantly, "Everything go alright in London?"

Gwen smiled to herself, no matter
how long she lived near a little Welsh town she didn’t think she’d ever get
used to quite how nosey people could be. Usually Bronwyn would at least attempt
to make small talk before getting to the good stuff but today’s news was so
important that she let any remaining sense of social decorum slide.

"Fine thanks, how have
things been here?" replied Gwen, trying to hide her grin. She knew she was
being a little cruel but it was funny.

"Oh, same old, you know.
Good meetings?" said Bronwyn attempting to steer the conversation back to
what she was anxious to hear about.

"Yes thanks," said Gwen
as she put her apron on and grabbed hold of a cloth so she could start wiping
down a table a young couple had just vacated. She left it a moment before
looking up at Bronwyn. They caught each other’s eyes and both burst out
laughing – Bronwyn was aware of how obvious her nosiness was, but Gwen was
practically a daughter to her and Brian, and she really was desperate to find
out what had happened.

"Brian!" Bronwyn yelled
out towards the kitchen, "Come and take over for a while would you?"

"I’m a bit busy back here
love" came the reply.

"Gwen’s in" called out
Bronwyn and Brian’s head immediately appeared around the door. He cleaned his
hands on a tea towel as he came over to Gwen and gave her a hug.

"Hello my love, how’d it go?"
he asked.

Bronwyn shooed him away, "Give
the poor girl a break, she’s only just got in. We’ll take over in there."

Bronwyn practically manhandled
Gwen into the kitchen where she put the kettle on and settled down to hear
everything she could possibly squeeze out of Gwen. Half an hour later and Brian
was finally relieved of his front of house duty. Bronwyn lasted all of five
minutes before she snuck back into the kitchen to give Brian a quick run down
of Gwen’s news.

Bronwyn spent the rest of Gwen’s
shift trying to determine where to put a plaque advertising that Gwen Jones,
the great authoress, had worked in, and been inspired by, these very tearooms.
It was lucky that the customers were patient because good service was really
not foremost in Bronwyn’s mind that day.

Brian just couldn’t seem to wipe
the smile off his face the whole shift. He was obviously so proud of Gwen and
what she’d achieved.

Although she was only working for
four hours, by the end of them Gwen was more than happy to take off her apron
and head back home. Her feet were aching and she’d almost curled up with
embarrassment every time Brian had informed a customer that their waitress was
soon to be a best-selling novelist, rivalling J.K. Rowling herself. Poor, quiet
Gwen knew he was only doing it because he cared, but she really wished he’d
stop – she didn’t like a fuss being made. Besides she had some new plot going
round and round in her head that she couldn’t wait to commit to paper. She
always kept a notepad and pen behind the counter for when it was quiet, but the
steady stream of customers meant Gwen had had no chance to jot anything down.

Bronwyn had insisted that Gwen
eat at the tearooms so when she got home Gwen let Oscar out again briefly and
then settled down to write in her beloved study with the dog nestled on her
feet keeping them nice and toasty. She knew from experience to set an alarm to
remind her when it was time to stop and head off to the hospital to visit her
mother. She could get so involved in writing that she’d be completely unaware
of the time.

Gwen had always known she wanted
to be an author, and she was lucky having parents who’d supported her in that
ambition. It would have been very easy for her to have left school and gone
straight to work like so many of her friends, but she went to university and,
with her Mam and Dad’s help, paid her way through it by serving at the tearooms
in the summers. Gwen’s English degree helped hone her writing and the
professors encouraged her to pursue her dream.

Gwen spent a few busy days
working on a draft of the second book Black Horse had commissioned. Not really
knowing what John would think of her first manuscript, or what he would want to
change, she figured she’d be better off leaving that alone and concentrating on
the next one. She’d gone to the shops after completing her shift and picked up
a load of provisions so she’d be able to focus on writing whenever she wasn’t
at the tearooms. Whilst shopping Gwen found it impossible to completely shake
off her mother’s influence: along with the food and drink that she knew she
would consume (tea, milk, coffee, biscuits, cheese, baked beans, baking potatoes),
were the extras that her mother would always have had in the house (lamb and
beef mince, tinned tomatoes, cauliflower, plain and self-raising flour to name
but a few). Occasionally Gwen would feel a burst of enthusiasm and use these
ingredients to create something barely edible but, more often than not, they
rotted away in the fridge, freezer and cupboards and were thrown out when Gwen
was feeling virtuous and doing a cleaning blitz.

As it happened John didn’t speak
to Gwen the day he read her manuscript, nor the day after that. In fact it was
another week before he called her. Despite devoting as much time as he possibly
could to working on her draft, he tried his level best not to think about the
author herself and so hoped his tangled feelings for her would resolve
themselves.

Eventually John knew he couldn’t
put off speaking to Gwen any longer and he steeled himself to call. He was
determined to remain business-like: he was phoning to congratulate Gwen on her
writing skills and organise when to see her next. He was absolutely not looking
forward to speaking to her again, but the thought of hearing her voice brought
a smile to his face. He dialled the number and waited. The phone seemed to ring
forever and John was just about to give up and put the retriever down when Gwen
answered.

"Hello" she said,
obviously breathless. John wondered what she’d been doing to get her out of
breath, then he realised Gwen was waiting for him to speak. He was all ready to
offer his congratulations on her manuscript but when he tried to talk he found
his mouth had gone dry. He cleared his throat and said gruffly,

"Hello, this is John
Thatcher, your editor."

"Oh, hello. Sorry, I’m a
little winded," replied Gwen, "I thought it might be important, my
mother’s hospital calling, so I ran in from the car."

Well, that puts me in my place,
thought John tetchily. Right, back to business.

"I want you to come to London for a few days next week. We need to work on your manuscript."

"Um, how long for exactly?"
replied Gwen anxiously.

John began to feel annoyed with
himself as much as with Gwen. This conversation was not going anything like he
had imagined it would.

"Four, maybe five days,"
he answered stiffly.

"I’m sorry but I can’t do
that, I explained in our meeting that my mother’s been ill and is in hospital.
I’m her only relative and I can’t leave her without anyone to visit her."