“What?” My blood ran cold. Surely he wouldn’t take that kind of risk by himself. I thought back to the night in the cave, and I could feel the fear seeping in. Had he taken a walk along the sea and gotten caught by high tide? There were so many coves along the seafront that it would be easy to get caught in.
“Or,” said a familiar voice, “he might have had to rush back quicker than any of you thought.”
“What do you know, Prentis?” asked Glynis, turning on the old man stood behind us. “Where is my bloody grandson?”
“London. Police had suspects in custody and only so much time to convict before they had to set them free. He called the taxi service and rushed out of here before I could blink. Said he’d call both of you, though.”
“Well, he doesn’t have my number,” I said, glaring at Glynis.
“Bloody answering machine.” Glynis muttered.
“The young man should be back in about 3 weeks, notice served, if I recall,” said Prentis.
“Coming…back?” I asked.
“Yes, back here. To Hiraeth. I daresay he’ll want to talk to you about how long for.” Prentis smiled knowingly.
Something in my brain shifted. “Do you know his address, Glynis?”
Glynis pulled a little pocketbook out of her bag and flicked through, ripping out a page. On it were James’ number — his old one, I presumed — and an address for a flat in Central London. “Want to send him something, do you love?”
“Something like that…thank you, I’ll see you both later.”
Without another word or look back I got into the van and started the engine. If I sped a bit in the country lanes, I could make it to the London-bound train in time. I had 10 minutes.
I pushed down hard on the accelerator and begged the old van to go as fast as it could. I could see the little piece of paper on the passenger seat out of the corner of my eye, the address already seared into my memory. If he wasn’t coming back for another 3 weeks then I would go to him. I needed him to know that if he planned on holidaying in Hiraeth in the near future then I wasn’t just some one time fling who would crawl out of the woodwork for a shag each time he wanted to visit. Bloody hell, I’d move to London for him if that’s what it took.
After a couple of near misses with tractors in the country lanes I could see the roof of the train station ahead. I parked up as quickly and messily as I could and ran out to the platform. Had I missed it? No, the sign on the platform said it was a minute away. And sure enough, there in the distance was the train heading in to the station. The last stop on its way from London before it headed back.
I tapped my foot on the ground as I waited, ready to run onto the train the second it pulled into the platform, as if it might somehow leave me behind if I didn’t jump on quickly. The train’s approach seemed to be agonisingly slow and the brakes screeched forever before it pulled to a stop. I jogged to the nearest set of doors, intent on pressing the button to open them until it broke under my finger. I jabbed at it multiple times until the doors opened and stepped onto the train without even looking up, bumping into someone smaller than me with such aggression that they fell back into the train.
“Sorry, I-” I started, before realising. It washim.He who had consumed my thoughts and dreams since the day I had met him. The man I wanted more than anything else. “James, what the fuck are you doing here?”
“I wanted, I needed, I…” but he didn’t have to finish the sentence. I knew what he wanted, or at least thought I did. I offered him my hand to pull him up, and he took it. I felt the sparks of electricity that passed between us as I pulled him up and into my arms.
“Fuck, I was so worried about you. About us…” I said. I leaned down to kiss him and our lips touched. He leaned into the kiss so that his whole body was pushed against mine and I could feel the same arcs of electricity jumping between us. I deepened the kiss, my tongue touching his and I pushed him up against a plastic divider.
“Were you planning on buying a ticket to go back to Cardiff, or did you want to get off right here?” A ticket inspector interrupted me before I could rip off all of James’ clothes right there on the train.
“Oh, um, yes. Sorry.” I grabbed James’ hand and pulled him off the train as we ran laughing to the van, too happy with his company to be embarrassed by the public display of affection.
???
After the initial rush, it felt a little bit awkward to sit side by side in the van. I was desperate to reach over and touch James, but I knew I’d want to pull over on the side of the little country lane and do things we definitely didn’t want to be caught doing.
“So,” said James.
“So,” I replied.
The silence stretched for a few more awkward seconds. “I’m sorry,” I said - just as James said the same thing.
“What the hell have you got to be sorry for?” he asked.
I suddenly felt pretty stupid, realising he had no idea how awful I had been for the whole 36 hours or so in which I hadn’t seen him.
“Oh, I dunno. Stuff. You?”
“Sorry for bailing - I had to be at the police station for questioning and I realised I had no way to contact you and Nain’s answering machine was full—I was desperate to let you know where I was and that I was safe and that I was sorry that I wasn’t there—”
