The Green Hills of Home (16 page)

She turned over and tried to
settle her mind, intentionally avoiding considering the other reason for her
awakened desires of domesticity.  Despite herself, the other reason, and his
smell, refused to entirely go away as she drifted off to sleep, a small smile
on her face.

Oscar wandered around happily,
albeit a lot slower and stiffer than before. He lay down on the cool grass and
sighed contentedly, placing his head in between his front paws and seeming to
relax completely. He’d had a check up with the vet who said he was coming along
brilliantly, another couple of weeks and he should be back to his old busy
self.

John watched him and realised
that here was a creature who knew how to enjoy life and make the most of simple
things. Good food (well, good for a dog), a comfy bed and a woman who loved
him. He really did have the right idea.

Oscar got up and walked over to
join John in the shade of the apple tree. He was panting heavily but settled
himself down as close to John as possible, obviously hoping to be stroked. John
lay down and dutifully ruffled Oscar’s ears before moving on to scratching his
tummy.

Gwen glanced out of the window as
she got herself a glass of water and couldn’t help smiling to herself as she
caught sight of the contented pair. The image gave her an idea. She hurried to
the study and quickly dug out her father’s old 35mm camera. It still had a
couple of photos left on the film and Gwen ran to the window to capture the
moment.

Gwen made use of her break at the
tea room to take the camera film to be processed. She tried not to think about
why she was so keen to have the photo developed.

Gladys, who ran the photo shop,
was keen to chat and fill Gwen in on all the details of her recent hip
replacement. Gladys was so busy gossiping that Gwen had had to remind her to
give her a receipt. Gladys eventually handed one over and told Gwen that the
photos would be ready for her to pick up the following day – Gladys didn’t
believe in any of this new fangled one hour developing business. Twenty four
hours was quite quick enough for anyone in her opinion.

"Do you mind if I leave a
little bit early tomorrow Bron?" asked Gwen tentatively when she got back,
"I’ve got something I need to do. I’ll make up the time."

"Something important is it?"
asked Bronwyn nosily.

"It’s John’s birthday. He
doesn’t really know anybody here so I thought I ought to do something for him."

"Course not love, it’ll be
quiet enough. You get going as soon as the lunch rush is over" replied her
boss with a knowing little smile.

"Thanks again for this"
said Gwen as she got ready to leave early the next afternoon. She hung up her
apron and grabbed her bag quickly before she had a chance to think better of
what she was planning to do.

"Oh, just a sec love"
called Bronwyn calling Gwen back. "This is for John. He’s got to have a
cake on his birthday."

Bronwyn handed Gwen a little iced
cake she’d baked herself with ‘Happy Birthday’ written on it, just perfect for
two to share.

"Thanks, that’s really nice
of you."

"No problem, you and John
have a lovely time," said Bronwyn with a wink.

"There’s nothing going on
between us you know, he’s just my editor."

"Whatever you say love"
replied Bronwyn, nudging Gwen towards the door, "We’ll see you in a couple
of days."

"Happy birthday" said
Gwen as she shyly handed John a small parcel. John stared at it for a moment.
He couldn’t recall the last time anyone had even remembered his birthday, let
alone got him a present. Before they died his parents would give him a cheque
each year on his birthday, but not since childhood had he actually received a
present from a friend. Occasionally women he was seeing would have something
suitable impressive chosen for him from Harvey Nicholls - a wallet or watch,
but nothing like this thoughtfully wrapped gift.

John opened the parcel slowly and
carefully, wanting to savour every moment. He looked up and saw Gwen watching
him. Embarrassed, he quickened up and ripped the last of the paper off to
reveal a beautiful small wooden frame containing a photo of him and Oscar
relaxing together under the big apple tree in Gwen’s garden.

"Thank you" he said
quietly. "Thank you very much."

A moment later John asked, "How
did you know it was my birthday?"

"Your driving licence, you
left it out on the table a few days ago and it’s got your date of birth on it."

"You nosy thing, is nothing
sacred?" said John with a smile.

"You’re not cross are you?"
asked Gwen anxiously.

"No, not at all,"
replied John gently. "It was really thoughtful."

"There’s cake as well,
Bronwyn made it for you," said Gwen, pointing to the cake which she’d
placed in the middle of the table.

"Gosh," said John,
looking genuinely touched, "I haven’t had a birthday cake for years."

"Well this one’s sure to
taste good, Bronwyn’s baking is incredible."

John went to pick up the knife
lying next to the cake, but found his hand lightly slapped out of the way.

"Not yet!" cried Gwen.
She hurried over to a small drawer in the kitchen dresser and began rifling
around; finally she found what she was after – a bright pink candle and holder.

"Sorry about the colour,"
she said as she stuck them in the cake.

"I’ll forgive you as long as
you promise not to sing me ‘Happy Birthday’.

"Grump," said Gwen with
a grin.

"Do you promise?"

"I promise," replied
Gwen solemnly.

John blew out the pink birthday
candle and was finally allowed to eat his cake.

"You’re right, Bronwyn does
make a very good cake," said John as he took another enormous bite. Gwen
laughed as she pointed at the dollop of icing that was now firmly attached to
the end of his nose. John quickly wiped it away with his napkin, but the tips
of his ears turning a very bright red gave away that he was a little
embarrassed. Gwen promptly scooped some icing up with her finger and plonked it
on her own nose, "What do you think? Could it become the latest craze?"

"You’re so sweet," said
John suddenly.

"Thank you" replied
Gwen decisively as she cleaned her nose. "See, I’m getting better at
taking compliments."

"Maybe I’ll have to give you
more, get you in training."

"Not sure I could cope with
that, one once a week or so is quite enough" said Gwen cheerfully.

"I’ll clear this lot up,"
said Gwen when they’d finished, and began moving the plates and her handbag and
post off the kitchen table so they could set up their laptops.

"Who’s this?" asked
John, as he picked up a photo that had dropped out of an envelope onto the table.
He turned it to face Gwen.

"That’s my dad," said
Gwen with a sad smile. "He died a while ago. No one’s used his camera
since before he passed away, but I finished off the film the other day, when I
took that picture of you and Oscar."

John looked at the photo of
Gwen’s dad carefully.

"He looks like a nice man,"
he said eventually.

"He was" Gwen replied
quietly.

"Have you got any more
photos of him there?"

"Um, yeah," Gwen opened
the envelope and rifled through the rest of the pictures. "Here’s my Mam
and Dad together in the garden."

"They look really happy."

"They were, I don’t think I
ever even saw them argue. They were perfect for each other."

"It must have been good to
be brought up by a couple like that."

"It was, neither of them was
ever too busy to spend time with me and they supported me in everything. Dad
would have been thrilled to see me a real writer," confided Gwen.

"You were pretty lucky."

"Yep, I guess you never
realise at the time just how lucky you are – I spent most of my childhood
wishing for a sibling instead of making the most of what I had."

"Did your Mam and Dad not
want more children?"

"They couldn’t. They tried
for years to have me; Mam was forty-two when I was born. What about you? Did
you have any brothers or sisters?"

"No, I’m an only child too."

"That’s a shame," said
Gwen quietly.

"Maybe, but I had plenty of
friends at boarding school."

"Didn’t you miss home and
your parents?"

"A little, but you get used
to it. I wasn’t very close to my parents, my father was totally focused on his
company and my mother spent her time supporting him. But we loved each other in
our own way, and I admired them hugely. Dad really was inspiring; he taught me
such a lot and achieved so much. I suppose I’ve always tried to be like him."

John hesitated a moment before
continuing, almost to himself, "Now I don’t know though."

Before Gwen could respond, John
quickly said "Let’s get started with chapter 8 shall we?" signalling
the end of the conversation.

"Sure" replied Gwen, so
pleased John had opened up a little to her, but knowing not to push him anymore
until he was ready.

Just before going to sleep that
night John reached over to the bedside table for some water. His gaze fell onto
the photograph Gwen had given him and he gave a little smile as he remembered
the afternoon the picture had been taken. He’d been so content sitting under
that tree giving Oscar a scratch. But of course the most important element of
his contentment was missing from the scene – Gwen herself.

"I’ll leave after lunch if
that’s alright with you? Try to beat some of the rush hour traffic."

"That doesn’t give us long
to work today, especially as you’ll need to get your things together before you
go; why don’t you stay until Sunday?" suggested Gwen. "If we plough
through we’ll be finished with a lot of the revisions by then."

"I suppose that does make
sense," replied John. "It would be a waste of my time to have to come
all the way back here again if we hadn’t covered everything."

Gwen noticed that John hadn’t
looked at her as he spoke and the tips of his ears had turned red.

"I’ll get the coffee on then
shall I?" he said.

Gwen was trying to think of
something she could do to show John how much she appreciated all the cooking
he’d done for her. She loved feeling looked after. She knew she could just tell
him, but to speak to him like that would be excruciatingly awkward.

It was so nice to have John to
come home to when she got back from the hospital. She hadn’t realised quite how
lonely she’d been and how little she’d had in her life before he arrived.
Again, she couldn’t tell him this, but she wanted to do something for him.

Gwen pondered over how her life
had changed since John turned up. She'd been so anxious about him coming,
worried about how he would judge her and her home. She was relaxing more and
more around him every day. The downside to this was that she found she was also
falling more in love with him. What had begun as a purely animal attraction to
his looks and lofty temperament had developed into something much, much more.
She was so enjoying spending time with him. She liked chatting to him and
asking his opinion on all manner of different topics. From the criticisms and
help that he’d given her with her writing, she could see that he really was
talented in his work and knew what he was talking about. She had an enormous
amount of respect for him. But most of all, she trusted him.

Gwen also loved to see how he’d
bonded with Oscar and part of her felt that if her dog adored him then he must
be alright.

She had to force herself to think
logically because her mind was apt to daydream away at the most inconvenient
times: imagining that John felt the same way about her and wanted a real
relationship and possibly even to build a life with her. But deep down Gwen
knew that this could never be the case. What on Earth would he want with her? A
country girl; nothing like all the interesting and beautifully presented city
girls whom he was used to. John had been privately schooled and then went to Oxford University, whilst she'd gone to the local comprehensive and a university which,
though not at the top of the league tables, had meant she could visit her home
and beloved parents whenever she needed to. He was used to fancy restaurants,
clubs and wine bars, most of which she'd never even heard of. She must seem
really dull and boring to him.

Even if he were interested, there
was no way he'd give up his job and his life in London so they could be
together and she could still be close to her mother. There was never any doubt
in Gwen's mind that she’d look after her mother for as long as she was alive.
She'd lost one cherished parent already. She was going to make the most of any
time she had left with the other.

Still, however strict Gwen was
with herself, she just couldn't stop herself from dreaming.

Gwen left the hospital early,
having asked John not to cook whilst she was out. Ten minutes after she got
back Gwen had laid the table, opened wine and lit candles. She called John into
the kitchen; as he appeared in the doorway she shouted out:

"Ta da!"

"Hey!" said John as he
took in the scene. "Not bad."

"What do you mean ‘not bad’?
I ironed napkins for you!"

"Alright, alright. Fabulous
then," he said with a grin "What’s all this in aid of?"

"I feel awful that you’ve
cooked pretty much every night you’ve been here. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten
so well in my life, but now it’s my turn to show off my cooking skills -
tonight I make lasagne!"

"Wow!" said John
smiling.

"Thank you, I’ll take you
through it step by step. Take notes if you like. Right, first I shall pour some
wine. Next I shall put the oven on. This shall be swiftly followed by me taking
the ready made lasagne out of its wrapping and placing it in the oven for
thirty five to forty minutes. Meanwhile I shall open a bag of salad."