“Good. I trust you’re still on track to come in on Friday?”
“Yes, I am.” It was strange, I’d never loved work. But I’d never hated it, but the thought of leaving now filled me with dread. And fear.
“Good. We’ll have a Return to Work form filled out in advance, so that we don’t complicate anything. It’ll be good to have you back.”
“Thanks, Arthur.”
I put down the phone and sighed out loud. Was it the attack that was making London feel so unsafe to me now, or was it something else? I couldn’t tell. I just couldn’t believe that I’d only been in Hiraeth for two days, and would only have three more.
“Did you want a cuppa,cariad?” Nain called. It broke me out of my stupor, and I quickly pulled on my socks.
“Yes please, Nain!” I got up and opened the bedroom door. Once I was in the kitchen I sat down at the table as Nain boiled the kettle. On the table was a brown paper bag with my name written on it. There was no address.
“Gwyn dropped it off earlier. Said it was from a not-so-secret admirer.” Nain put down a cup of tea in front of me. Seconds later, she was back with toast. I reached over both to see what was inside the package.
There were two wooden knitting needles and two balls of yarn, a deep emerald green that was soft to the touch. “Beautiful,” I muttered.Llywelyn, my brain supplied instantly. It must have been from him.
“That boy knows how to treat someone right,” Nain supplied. She had come to the same obvious conclusion, it seemed. “Shame he’s never found anyone. He’d make a wonderful husband.”
I felt something coil in my belly at the thought. Of course he deserved someone good to him. I idly stroked the ball of yarn as I thought. He would make someone incredibly happy someday, and it wasn’t fair for me to want it to be me.
I ate my toast and drank my tea, took the dishes to the sink and washed them. The entire time I kept glancing back at the wool and needles on the table. It had been so long since I’d picked up a pair of knitting needles, but it would be impolite not to use them.
I took the bag with the needles and wool and walked to the living room where Nain had already ensconced herself in one of her comfy chintz chairs to watch daytime TV. I cast on a few stitches experimentally, then a few more. Before beginning, I pulled my jumper over my head and checked out the cabling that ran all the way from the top to the bottom.Should be easy enough to replicate,I thought.
I started knitting slowly, but it was like riding a bike — impossible to forget once I had started. The old stitches and purls came easily, and I was almost at the end of my first skein of wool when I became aware of someone calling my name.
“Sorry?” I looked up, dazed. Nain stood in the doorway with another old lady at her side.
“You remember Beca, don’t you?” Nain asked. I examined the old woman’s face, and then a memory came to me.
“You argued with my mum in the street once!” I said. “The last time I came here…”
I noticed Nain’s sharp glare at Beca then and wondered if I’d put my foot in it. “You never mentioned that,” she said quietly and maliciously toward the other woman.
“Strange that,” Beca said and then looked at her watch. “Oh, would you look at the time. Must dash.”
Beca’s feet carried her out of the front door as fast as they could at eighty-years old.
“Well.” Nain shook her head as if dazed, and then looked down at what I was creating. “Oh, isn’t that wonderful! It seems true talent is never forgotten, is it.”
I looked down at what I had been creating. I had been so engrossed in the little pattern that I had concocted that I hadn’t even looked down to appreciate it. The cables twisting up the emerald pattern made it seem to coil like a snake, and the delicate ribbing either side made the cabling stand out even more.
“Wow,” I said. I hadn’t realised that I could make something so beautiful after so long.
“That looks long enough, doesn’t it?” Nain pulled the scarf from my hands and put it around her neck experimentally. “Yes, that would be lovely. Why don’t you finish it off and go and get us some sausage rolls from the bakery? I can’t be bothered cooking lunch now.”
My stomach rumbled. “What time is it?” I asked idly.
“Just coming up to 2 o clock now,” Nain said.
Wow. I must have been very into my work. Nain gave me the scarf back and took a ten pound note from her pocket to give to me. It felt strange, at my age, a successful financier, taking money from my nan for sausage rolls. But I wouldn’t have access to my savings for at least another couple of days.
“Thanks Nain,” I said. I felt ten again. She kissed me on the cheek and walked out, presumably to the kitchen.
I finished off the scarf, weaved my loose ends in and threw it around my shoulders. I had to find a way to thank Llywelyn for this gift. My mind flashed back to the night before.Perhaps not that kind of thanks.
???
