The Green Hills of Home (7 page)

She suddenly became aware of her
stomach rumbling embarrassingly; she checked her watch and saw that it was already
two o’clock, poor Oscar must be desperate for a walk. She should have thought
to leave the back door open so he could have a wander outside and a lie in the
sun.

Gwen’s stomach let out another
enormous rumble.

"Sorry," she said
quietly, flushing slightly.

She was sure she saw a little
smile flickering around the corners of John’s mouth.

"Would you like to take a
break for lunch?" he asked.

"Yeah, ok, if that’s alright
with you," replied Gwen.

Getting up self-consciously, Gwen
made some sandwiches. She could hear John still typing away on his computer but
felt like he was watching her every move.

"I usually eat outside when
the weather’s fine," she commented.

"Ok."

John followed Gwen into the
garden and sat down next to her in the shade of an old oak tree.

Gwen couldn’t relax as she
usually did when she took a break from her work and got some fresh air. She
couldn’t think of anything to say to John and she was even more nervous sitting
next to him now that they weren’t concentrating on work. It was a beautiful
day, the sky was a vibrant blue dotted with wispy little white clouds, but Gwen
hardly noticed it as she focused on not looking at John and eating as swiftly
as possible. She suspected John didn’t usually take much of a lunch break and
she didn’t want to keep him waiting. John ate his food quickly and efficiently
– the same way he did everything. He sat up straight and looked uncomfortable,
vaguely wary of the grass around him.

Beginning to regret coming
outdoors, Gwen was grateful when she heard the phone ringing inside the house;
it gave her a good excuse to leave the awkward situation. She was not so happy
when she found out who it was and why they were calling.

It was the mortgage company she’d
been waiting to hear back from: after several unsuccessful negotiations, she’d
found a small company who seemed a lot more approachable and dealt with her as
a person rather than a sale. They’d discussed her situation over the last few
weeks, and if a publisher took her on, she’d been led to believe that the loan
was a mere formality; unfortunately this turned out not to be the case.  She
tried to reason with them, but they just reiterated in a bored fashion that
they would not be able to help.

Hollowness engulfed her. She
desperately tried to think her way out of this terrible situation, whilst
striving not to dwell on what the loss of the house would mean to her, and more
importantly her mother. There wasn’t a plan B: she’d exhausted all other
options and had put her faith in this last company. They’d said they’d help if
she got a book deal. Well she had, but yet here she was. What use was her
writing now?

With a heavy heart, Gwen looked
out of the window despondently. She noticed John getting up and brushing
himself down before coming inside - the last person she wanted to see. She
needed to be by herself to think over what had happened and work out how and
when she was going to break the bad news to her mother. She was due to visit
the hospital in only a few hours and she knew the sensible thing to do would be
to simply tell her Mam and get it over and done with. But just imagining how
her mother’s face would look when she found out was heartbreaking. Especially
since Gwen had told her that the publishing deal meant everything was alright.

Gwen was very quiet and a little
distracted for the rest of the afternoon; her mind kept wandering to the house
– trying to work out if there could possibly be another way for her to buy it
that she hadn’t thought of yet. She checked the clock constantly, unsure
whether she wanted it to slow down, and so delay her telling her mother, or
speed up so she could get it over and done with.

"I’ll need to leave in a
while to visit my Mam. Will you be ok?"

John looked a little taken aback
by the question but replied, "I’ll be fine. What time do you need to go?"

"Visiting’s from six until
eight, I usually leave at five thirty and I’ll be back by half eight."

"Right, well, we should be
able to get a bit more work in when you get back."

Gwen barely heard him; her mind
was occupied trying to work out the gentlest way to break the bad news to her
mother.

When Gwen returned from the
hospital she felt emotionally wrung out. She hadn’t brought up the mortgage;
she just hadn’t been able to find the right words. Gwen felt horribly guilty,
and not at all keen to deal with John and his promise of more work.

"How was your mother?"
asked John awkwardly.

"Fine, thank you,"
replied Gwen.

"Are you ready to get back
to it?"

"Sure," she said,
dejectedly, sitting back down at the kitchen table and they continued where
they’d broken off a few hours earlier.

It wasn’t until nearly 10pm that
Gwen realised that neither she nor John had had anything to eat.

"Would you like some supper?"
asked Gwen tentatively.

"If it’s not too much
trouble" came the reply, "I suppose now’s as good a time as any to
call it a night."

Gwen quickly heated up some soup
she found at the back of a cupboard whilst John meticulously tidied up his side
of the table.

They ate in silence before
retiring to their separate bedrooms.

Gwen woke the following morning
with a jump as her alarm clock beeped into life. She groaned as she looked at
the time but forced herself to get up. She rarely got a lie in because of
needing to take Oscar out but she was not at all used to proper early mornings.
Gwen looked at her bed longingly but knew she’d regret it if she climbed back
in. She was pretty sure that John would be planning to start work early, and as
he’d never seen her without make-up, today was not going to break that record.

After showering as quickly as she
could, Gwen blow dried her hair, put on her make-up, and spent only the
absolute minimum of time dithering about what to wear, yet when she came
downstairs John was already sat at the kitchen table, typing away on his
laptop, steaming mug in hand.

"I hope you don’t mind me
helping myself to coffee," he asked as she came in the door.

"No, not at all,"
replied Gwen, a little embarrassed to be late starting, despite her best
efforts. But then it was only 8.30am! What time did this man get up at? How was
she going to explain that she still needed to walk Oscar before starting work?
Gwen thought the best plan would be to appear blasé: "I’ll be with you
right after I’ve taken Oscar out. Help yourself to anything you want," she
said, sounding far more confident than she felt.

Gwen had to giggle as she caught
sight of herself in the hall mirror; she doubted Oscar would recognise her with
her make-up, blow-dried hair and properly ironed clothes, and was a little put
out when he gave her no more than a quick sniff before pushing her towards the
door.

Gwen rushed Oscar’s walk and was
back after fifteen minutes. She felt pretty guilty for having to hurry him, but
promised she’d make it up to him at lunchtime. She gave him an extra treat as
she hung up her coat and the lead in the utility room.

John didn’t look up from his
computer screen when she came back into the kitchen and put on the kettle.

"Would you like another
coffee?" she asked.

"No, thank you,"
replied John shortly.

"Toast?"

"No."

Having made herself tea and
toast, Gwen got her laptop and then sat down on the chair opposite John and
began the long process of starting up the computer.

"Are you ready to start work
now?" he asked grumpily.

"Yes," replied Gwen,
mirroring his curt dialogue.

"Here are some preliminary
changes I want made," said John, passing over a folder. "They’re for
the second chapter. When they’re done email me the file so I can go through it
again."

"Yes Sir!" thought
Gwen, but she didn’t dare put it into words. She began dutifully working her
way through the corrections.

At midday Oscar came over to the
table and put his head on Gwen’s lap. He looked up at her, gazing into her
eyes. She patted him and whispered, "I know sweetheart."

"Problem?" said John,
not looking up from his laptop screen.

"Oscar needs a walk"
replied Gwen.

John made no comment for a few
moments then asked "Have you got to the changes on page 47?"

"Almost" said Gwen
testily. She gave Oscar a last pat and he settled down under the table
resignedly.

By 1pm Oscar was whining and
scratching at the utility room door.

"Oh, for heaven’s sake,
can’t that animal wait a while?" said John crossly; "We’re right in
the middle of work here."

Gwen saw red and replied angrily,
"’That animal’ has a name, it’s Oscar, and no, he can’t wait any longer.
He’s already been waiting for an hour."

Getting up and marching out of
the room, Gwen whistled to Oscar to follow her. She wanted to get out of John’s
sight before he saw the tears that were pricking at her eyes. How could he be
so horrible and selfish?

Oscar followed but not before
giving John a dark look as if to say "Just look what you’ve done now."

The atmosphere between Gwen and
John was edgy to say the least for the rest of the afternoon. Gwen couldn’t
work out whether John just wasn’t sorry for his behaviour or he genuinely
thought it acceptable to act like that. Either way, she certainly wasn’t
prepared to make the first move in establishing cordial relations. But Gwen
found maintaining a hateful silence, even with someone she wouldn’t normally
talk to much in the circumstances anyway, exhausting and unpleasant. She was
very grateful when the time finally came for her to leave to visit her Mam. A
couple of hours away from the bad feeling in the house would do her the world of
good.

"I’m going now," she
said, closing her laptop and getting up from the table.

John didn’t look up from his
screen but said, "Hang on just two minutes."

"No, I’m going now,"
said Gwen with finality and went to walk out of the room.

"Gwen!" John stood up
and glared at her angrily as she turned to face him.

"What?"

"Don’t walk away from me
when I’m talking to you."

"I thought you’d finished"
said Gwen stubbornly.

"Well I hadn’t. I’m your
editor and if our relationship is going to work then you need to start treating
me with some respect. If I say I need you for two more minutes then I really
mean I need you for two more minutes. Then you can go."

"Well I need to leave now,"
said Gwen defiantly.

"I understand about your
commitment to your mother, but this is our commitment. We have to get this book
finished. You could have done the two minutes and been on your way already if
you hadn’t argued."

They stared at one other, each
trying to work out how serious the other was at holding their ground. But Gwen
knew she easily had the most to lose. She sat down and finished what John
wanted before racing to the hospital. She had no idea how amazed John was that
she’d given in.

The visit to the hospital did
quell Gwen’s anger but she still needed to try to pull herself together before
going back to the house. Leaving her mother at the end of visiting time was
never easy and it usually took her at least an hour of pottering around the
house before she began to feel anything like cheerful.

Turning the key in the lock, Gwen
pushed open the door and was greeted by a very happy Oscar, bounding over to
make a fuss as soon as he heard her. Gwen bent down to pet him and as she stood
up she tried to place what was different. It came to her like a bolt of
lightning - for the first time since her mother had been taken to hospital the
house felt like a proper home, welcoming her back in: the lights were on; some
gentle piano music, which Gwen recognised as one of her favourite Einauldi CDs,
was playing from the stereo and wonderful smells were emitting from the
kitchen. As a finishing touch, a fire burned merrily in the sitting room,
taking the chill off the late summer’s evening. Gwen pushed open the kitchen
door and just managed to stop herself from giggling at the sight of John wearing
one of her mother’s aprons. He was finely slicing some runner beans.

John turned when he heard her and
smiled bashfully.

"I hope you don’t mind"
he said, indicating all the cooking equipment.

"No, of course not, it
smells delicious. What is it?"

"There’s a fish pie,"
he replied, as he opened up the oven to show her. "And I was just doing
some runner beans and carrots to go with it. Not very glamorous I’m afraid."

"I’m impressed," said
Gwen.

"Well, I’m a man of few
talents, but my fish pie is one of them. There’s a glass on the table for you,
I’m drinking red," he said, indicating the open wine bottle on the table. "But
there’s white in the fridge. I wasn’t sure what you liked."

"Red’s fine, thanks,"
she said pouring herself a glass. She sat down and attempted to stop thinking
how bizarre this whole scenario was.

Neither spoke for a couple of
minutes, and Gwen was beginning to find the silence uncomfortable. She asked
the first thing which came to mind.

"Do you cook for everyone
who has a book you’re editing?"

She thought she saw a flash of
hurt in John’s eyes.

"Only those who leave me
stranded and hungry in the Welsh wilderness," he replied quickly.

"Well, thank you," said
Gwen gently, appreciating the effort he’d gone to. They smiled and any
awkwardness disappeared.

"How old is he?" asked
John as Oscar walked over to him hoping for some fuss.

"Oscar?"

"Yes, Oscar."