Ash’s expression is haunted. ‘There must be another way,’ he says.
And then he gets up and stalks out the front door.
I follow him in time to see him climbing onto his bike. ‘Where are you going?’
‘To see my father.’
‘I can’t believe you’re leaving,’ Siân says, stunned. ‘Just like that.’
She came back to the cottage at lunchtime and found me packing.
‘There’s no point in delaying the inevitable.’
‘What about Ash?’
‘Don’t talk to me about Ash,’ I say.
‘But I thought you loved him. He gave up Beca for you.’
Siân has always spoken her mind, but I can’t handle her accusatory tone today.
‘Can you please leave?’ I raise my voice.
She exits my room without another word.
I walk to the cabin via the farm track to wait for Ash. I have no idea why I haven’t broken down yet – there’s a numbness that has spread the length of my torso, and my limbs feel strange, as though they’re not fully connected to the rest of my body. My head feels foggy, hazy. It’s like I’m not entirely here.
But somehow, I’m moving forward, putting one foot in front of the other, knowing what needs to be done.
Beca’s car and Ash’s motorbike are parked up outside the cabin. I realise that they’re both inside, and yet I don’t feel a thing.
As I’m approaching the door, I hear the sound of Beca’s voice coming through the window.
‘It’s okay. It’s okay. Shh. It’s going to be okay.’
She’s sitting with Ash on the sofa and they have their backs to me. Her arms are looped around his shaking upper body, her chin resting on his shoulder. I realise he’s sobbing and I feel a jarring motion inside my chest, but the sensation is muted and I’m too dazed to react.
‘It’s for the best, Ash,’ Beca says. ‘You know it deep down. She doesn’t want this life. She’s told you so many times. You have to listen to her, respect her wishes. You have to let her go.’
He lets out a yelp and my foot jerks towards the door just as he turns and buries his face against her neck, his arms coming around her shoulders.
‘Shh, it’s okay,’ she coos, kissing his temple. ‘It’s okay, Ash. Aw, baby.’
Her voice has grown thick with emotion, and I watch as her own shoulders begin to shake as he sobs against her skin. They’re clutching each other tightly and she’s cradling his head with her hand, her fingers half buried in his dark gold hair.
I feel anaesthetised as I back away.
Suddenly the thought of spending one more minute here, in the Berkeleys’ vicinity, is inconceivable.
If I leave now, I could be in Evesham by tonight – the journey will take three and a half hours and I know there was availability at the B & B I’ve booked.
I call a taxi on my way back to the cottage, as soon as my phone picks up reception.
Siân has returned to the kitchen for the afternoon shift andBethan, Harri, Evan and Owain are all still at work. There’s noise coming from the workshop – men shouting over the sound of machinery – but no one sees me as I walk round the back of the building, return to the cottage and take my bags out the front door.
I stand there in the late-afternoon sunshine, listening to the sounds of bees buzzing around the climbing roses, children playing in the walled garden, the low hum of cars coming and going to and from the car park, and I feel empty.
Ash calls me when I’m on the train. I think about not answering, but he’ll only call again. And suddenly the hopelessness of us is unbearable.
