Slowly, in between sips of way-too-sweet tea, I told her everything. The club, the aftermath. I told her how I’d been inspired to come here after seeing that Owen was working on a ‘Visit Wales’ campaign and how getting holiday approvedwith my boss — even just for a week — had been an absolute nightmare. It was Monday now, and I had only managed to secure guaranteed time off until Friday.
“Well you stay for as long as you want,” my grandmother -Nain, as she insisted I still call her - said. “If I have to beat your boss in a boxing match to get you to stay here I will do it.”
I laughed quietly. “Thanks Nain.”
“Let me show you your room. I’ve kept it as you liked it, just in case you decided to pop round.” I felt a bit guilty at her words. It was true that my parents had decided they no longer wanted to visit Hiraeth not long after they made the move to London, but there had been nothing to stop me coming here once I had turned eighteen.
“Sorry Nain,” I said.
“Don’t be silly, you had your own life, and it was always lovely to see you at Christmas. And Cardiff has a lovely market so I never begrudged going there.” I didn’t quite believe her words, and she didn’t look at me as she said them.
She led me down the hallway to my room. I knew it well, even after years of being away. Nain’s home, like her, had not significantly changed in that time.
This truth was compounded even more when she showed me the guest room. There was a single bed pushed up against the wall, the bedding covered in space ships and stars. The ceiling was covered in glow-in-the-dark stars and moons, and the curtains were black — I seemed to remember poking holes in them with a pin when I was little to make it look like starlight shining through in the daytime.
“Wow, Nain. You didn’t want to redecorate?” I said.
“No, love. I wanted to remember.” Nain gave me a little smile. “Did you say you don’t have any extra clothes with you at all?”
I showed her the little backpack I’d hardly let go of since I got to Hiraeth. “I’ve got a toothbrush and some underwear I borrowed from Owen in here. The rest of his clothes wouldn’t fit me and he couldn’t exactly afford to buy me a new wardrobe.”
“Well we can’t have that, can we?” Nain said. “Pop your bag down on the bed and come with me. We’ll get you clothed.”
“There’s nowhere to shop for miles around, is there?” I asked.
“You’d be surprised,bach.”
???
Iwassurprised when Nain frogmarched me through the village with the odd hello to a couple of people I very vaguely recognised and into a little charity shop on the high street.
“Are you sure?” I muttered as we walked in. “I’m not exactly one for charity shopping.”
“Your father has given you airs and graces,” she said firmly. “It may not be Armani, or fancy suits for dinner, but I will have you clothed nicely for the days we’re here. Let’s have a look.”
Nain took my arm and pulled me over to the men’s section - just a couple of rails and a shelf with some old trainers on. She was right, it was Dad who had always insisted I wear nice clothes. Even clubbing I wore a jacket and shirt even as other people were starting to wear hoodies and trainers. It just always feltrightto wear nice clothes. But Mum and Dad had moved abroad a couple of years ago and I still couldn’t bring myself to relax in slacks when walking around the city.
“Ooh, this is nice. Lovely and warm.” Nain held up a cable-knit burgundy jumper to me, and without asking if I liked it threw it over her arm. She did the same with a couple of shirts and some jeans.
“You really don’t have to do this, Nain. I’m only here for a couple of days.”
“Nonsense. I’m not having you lounging around the house in my old dressing gown whilst you wait for me to wash the clothes off your back. Try these on.” She held out a pair of hiking boots and a pair of trainers. “These will do.”
“I’m only here for three more days…” I muttered.
“Well if you discover a new love of country walks when you’re here, maybe you’ll come back,” she said. The guilt at not seeing her for so long shut me up, and I tried the shoes on after a careful sniff. They were comfortable and fit fine, so I took them off. Nain gestured for me to follow her to the till.
A few jumpers I’d hardly looked at, the jeans and the trainers all came to less than ten pounds. Nain handed over the cash and smiled at the woman behind the till. “You’re certainly looking well, Sally.” Something in her tone was different though, like she wasn’t just being friendly. “Have you seen at the bakery they’ve got a new special on buns? Do you ever head over on your lunch break?”
“Oh, no. I always bring a packed lunch,” said the woman, presumably Sally.
“I see. Well, have a lovely day!” Nain pushed the carrier bag with all my new stuff into my hand and sauntered out of the shop like a woman half her age. I muttered a thanks to Sally and followed her.
Outside the shop Nain linked her arm into mine and gestured the opposite way from where we’d came. “Do you fancy a walk down the river?”
“Sure,” I said. There were plenty of people on High Street, but most of the shops were closed, or even boarded up. In a row of about ten shopfronts I counted four open — the charity shop at the end, a bakery, butchers and one at the other end I couldn’t make out yet.
Nain walked slower than I expected. “Why didn’t you bring your stick?” I enquired.
