Ouch. Pubs that let rooms, especially when they’re the only such accommodation available, tend to be expensive. I’ve often stayed in similar places while touring with a play. Normally, the theatre picks up the bill.
“Hello,” a man says, coming into the kitchen.
I turn around and find a tall handsome man, possibly thirty. Henrietta slides off her chair and runs over and leaps into his arms.
“Hey, sweetheart. Have you had breakfast? Did you leave me any porridge, or did you eat it all?”
She wraps her little arms around his neck and whispers her answer into his ear. By the way his eyes turn to me, it’s clear she’s telling him about me.
“This is Evan, my partner.” Haneen makes the introduction as he comes to the table. “This is Leonie Henderson. She’s a relation of the professor.” She gets up to prepare another bowl for him.
Evan shifts Henrietta to his left arm so he can shake my hand. “I’m Evan Kendric, nice to meet you.”
He takes a seat opposite, Henrietta still clinging to him and speaking softly into his ear. All this whispering, I guess, is because I’m here.
I watch this partner of Haneen. Going by the affection between him and the little girl, this isn’t the ‘difficult’ father she mentioned before. Everything about the body language between them tells me he’s a wonderful stepdad. Lucky little girl.
When Henrietta finally releases his head from her long whispering and settles into his lap, he gives me a wide smile. “I didn’t realise the professor had any relatives.”
“Apart from his father,” Haneen says from the kitchen counter where she’s toasting more bread.
“He has a father?” I ask too quickly, too eagerly, then wish I hadn’t because it shows how little I know him.
William Jones has a father, my biological grandfather.
“And you live in London?” Evan asks.
Do I? No, not just at the moment. Not anywhere else either.
Haneen saves me having to answer and explains about me driving from London this morning and not knowing Professor Jones wasn’t home.
“It’s my first visit to Wales. So it’ll be nice to get to know the neighbourhood,” I say just to take charge of the explanation. People talking about me makes me feel passive. I hate looking like a helpless girl.
“She was asking about rooms, and I mentioned the Caradoc Arms.”
“Do you know how long it might be before he comes back.” I ask Evan hoping he might know more.
“Not really.”
“It could be a while.” There’s an odd note in Haneen’s voice as if giving Evan a hidden message.
“Why don’t you ring and ask him? Find out when he’s due back.” Evan asks Haneen.
She pats her pockets and glances around the kitchen as if searching for something. Evan reaches into his own pocket and hands her his own phone.
“Old habits die hard.” She flashes him a private smile, pressing numbers to unlock the phone.
It says a lot about a couple when they know each other’s passwords. I’ve never had that kind of relationship. Not with any of the good looking, smart, successful men I’ve dated. Then again, they only wanted me as arm candy. If I had a flat chest and a unibrow, would I have found a man to love me for myself?
“It goes straight to voicemail,” Haneen says. “Maybe I’ll text him. Will he know your name?”
I stare at her, trying to think. He shouldn’t really find out by text message, but this lady is holding the phone trying to do me a favour.
With hind sight, I’ve done this all wrong. Turning up here like this as if to ambush him. Shouldn’t I have written to give him a chance to prepare himself? And this is private, between me and him. Other people, even as nice as Haneen and Evan seem to be, should not find out before him.
“You can tell him my name but in case he doesn’t remember…” I pause searching for a way to explain without revealing too much to others. “Tell him we’re related through Anita Henderson.”
He will know Mum’s name; he can work it out.
