Her father just rolled his eyes and followed them in.
"And remember little Tomos from next door? He's taller than you now, can you believe it? Sixteen and acting like he owns the place,that lad. Oh, and Bethan's sheep got out again last week; they ended up blocking the high street for half an hour, and the police had to come and everything. You should've seen it, it was like a parade, yeah?"
Rune smiled, letting the stream of words wash over her. Her mum's voice was rapid, lilting, slipping in and out of Welsh without pause, every sentence punctuated with "yeah?" inviting Rune to nod along. It was like a comfort blanket thrown over her shoulders. By the time they reached the kitchen, her mum was already telling her about the cake sale and the scandal involving Mr. Evans and the church roof fund.
It was loud, familiar, and perfect.
Dinner was her mother's special roast, homemade bread, and a medley of vegetables from the garden. Rune didn't even pull a face at the green beans or peas, her childhood nemeses. She just ate them. Her parents exchanged a quick glance across the table.
"No complaints?" her mum teased, clearing her throat. Rune only smiled, not looking up.
"It's so nice to see you." Her mother's eyes softened. "How long are you staying?"
"Ah... maybe a while," Rune said lightly. "I've been fired."
Her parents' expressions changed as they exchanged worried glances. Rune tried to keep her tone as soothing as possible. "I thought I'd look for work. Maybe Nana and Gramps would let me help on the farm."
Suddenly, it was too much, keeping it all in. The holding it all in and not having anything to show for it. She set down her fork. "I... I'm so tired..." The words fractured and yet again, her eyes filled with helpless tears.
"Is everything okay, love?" her mother asked in a worried voice.
"Yes... No..." Rune swallowed before blurting. "I'm pregnant."
The rest wouldn't come as she struggled for words to explain to her parents that she was on her way to becoming an unwed mum. Her food was abandoned and she grabbed the napkin to pretend to wipe the corner of her mouth but really, it was a ruse to have something in her hands. One hand covered her eyes as tears slipped free.
"I'm so sorry, Ma. I was such a fool. I was such a fool,"
Her ma was flustered and looked at her Da. Her Da looked like a thundercloud rolling in.
"That's it," he growled. "Who's this young whippersnapper? I have half a mind to march to London and plant him one."
"It’s a long way to march, Da," Rune teased, in better control now,grateful for the familiar ground beneath her feet. She shook her head. "I won't stay long."
"Don't be daft," her ma said firmly. "Where else would you go? Look at you-pregnant with my first grandchild and looking..." She searched for the right word. "llwgu."***
"You're staying here. You'll need help with the child. I'm retired-what else am I to do?"
Rune was crying in earnest now, her nose blocked. She was not a pretty crier.
Her father pointed a fork at her and confirmed that suspicion. "Your mum is right, you know. Look like a bloody tomato. Stop it now, lass."
Her Da was Irish, her Ma a mix of Welsh with a dash of Spanish, though she'd been raised here. Her father had once worked on her grandparents' farm, and somewhere between mucking out stalls and milking cows, they'd fallen in love. Rune had heard the "shotgunwedding" story more times than she could count, her gramps always telling it with relish and embellishing it more and more at every turn.
Maybe her child would not know his father. But at least he would have his mum and his grandparents who would love him to bits. It was good to be home.
bach*-small
bechod**-shame
llwgu*-(Welsh)- starved
Chapter fourteen
Chapter 14
While Rune was lost in her thoughts as the train spirited her further and further away from London, Dorian was enduring dinner at the family mansion in Kensington.
The house was the same as it had always been. The grand address was worth millions, white-columned and red-bricked, with a polished brass knocker gleaming under the porch light. The tall gates closed behind his car, shutting him into a world most would call enviable but which, to him, was a no more than the gilded prison of his childhood. All he had was vague memories of a procession of nannies before he was shipped off to boarding.
