Rosie laughed and shook her head.
‘But Rhianne was constantly in bother for one thing or another,’ Aled went on. ‘She was well ready to spread her wings by the time she left. I think she misses the old place more than she lets on, though.’
‘Oh,’ Rosie said. ‘Do you think she’ll ever go back?’
‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘Her parents have both passed, now – I think it’d be a different place to her than the one she remembers, so in a sense she’s missing something that doesn’t exist anymore. There’s a word for it in Welsh.Hiraeth. It doesn’t translate properly into English.’
‘Herrr – what, now? What does it mean?’ Rosie asked, on tenterhooks.
‘Hiraeth,’ Aled repeated. ‘It sort of means longing. Wistfulness. Yearning, tinged with nostalgia. It’s like a special, specifically Welsh homesickness, muddled with grief for lost things that can’t ever come back.’
‘Wow,’ Rosie breathed, around the lump that had suddenly risen in her throat. ‘That’s … beautiful. And so sad.’
Before Aled could reply, Rhianne emerged from behind a wall of burly men and threw her arms around him. ‘You’re here!’ she cried. ‘Talking and everything! I knew you’d tag along and be sociable if I got Rosie out.’
‘Hi, Rhi,’ Aled said, disentangling himself from her embrace and looking slightly abashed. ‘Week all right?’
‘Of course, now I have this one on my team,’ Rhianne said, jerking a thumb at Rosie. ‘She’s a marvel, just like you said she’d be. Write this down for posterity, because the chances of me ever saying it again are slim: you – were – right.’
Aled rolled his eyes and Rosie laughed. The banter that ping-ponged between him and Rhianne was witty but warm – the sort of bickering that only close siblings were usually capable of.
It was the kind of dynamic she’d never had with Michael, whose status as their parents’ favourite had made his every gibe at Rosie genuinely hurtful. He could mock her with little fear of retaliation or consequence beyond, ‘Now come on, Michael, play nicely with your sister.’ If Rosie had been given a pound for every time one of his insults had been dismissed as a ‘boys will be boys’ misstep, she wouldn’t have needed a flatmate.
As the night unfolded, Rosie fully relaxed – and gave herself up to chaotic fun in a way she hadn’t for as long as she could remember. Marcus treated the crowd to a surprisingly excellent rendition of ‘Lose Yourself’ by Eminem, while Becky and Yaz tag-teamed an admirable ‘Shallow’ fromA Star is Born. Becky yodelled tunelessly through Lady Gaga’s elongated ‘ohhh’s as the song swelled towards its apex, and Rosie genuinely thought she might die laughing.
She and Aled were the sole members of the group who point-blank refused to expose themselves to public humiliation – though Rhianne insisted that Rosie was only being given a pass because she was a rough pub virgin. ‘Al’s a law unto himself – simply not for turning – but I’ve got my eye on you for next month,’ she said.
Predictably, Rhianne performed the night’s final number. She was swept back onto the stage by what Rosie had come to think of as her army of fans, and a still-fawning Ian Barker handed her his microphone as though it was her rightful property.
‘They say it’s not over until the fat lady sings,’ Rhianne quipped, grinning broadly. She was in a scoop-necked, skintight body, leather-look leggings and heeled black boots tonight, with a silk scarf tied around her neck like one of the girls fromGrease. ‘Well, here I am,’ she said, shimmying for the crowd so her bosom bounced and her bottle-red hair gleamed in the pub’s yellowish light. ‘Though I prefer the wordvoluptuous, if I’m honest.’
The audience whooped and cheered, only quietening down as a familiar pattern of echoing, maudlin piano notes signalled the beginning of ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart’.
‘Oh yes, she’s going there,’ Aled said from right behind Rosie. She felt his warm breath hit the shell of her ear and shivered, then shrugged off the sensation and laughed. ‘She might as well be singing “Bread of Heaven” and waving a flag with a dragon on it,’ Aled quipped.
‘She’s incredible,’ Rosie said, with total sincerity. ‘An absolute force. I wish I could be like her.’
‘Don’t do that,’ Aled said, with the half-smile she’d come to think of as uniquely his. ‘You’re great. Exactly who you’re supposed to be. And more of a force than you know – if a slightly clumsy one.’
Rosie had no idea how to respond to this, so she smiled and threw herself into singing along with the rest of the Dun Cow’s rowdy patrons. Even Aled – predictably tunefully – had now joined in.
Borne aloft by several more drinks than she’d usually imbibe, as well as the uniquely uplifting sound of many voices coming together as one, Rosie felt how far she’d travelled in a few short weeks. Rhianne sweetly sang the gentle plea, ‘Turn around, bright eyes’, and Rosie’s gaze found Aled’s in the semi-darkness.
Understanding bloomed between them, and Rosie felt un upsurge of gratitude that he’d brought her into what she knew, instinctively, was his small circle of friends. It was a generous gesture he needn’t have made, and at this moment it meant the world to her.
Though Rosie was only a mile or so from home, she had no map for the place she was suddenly in. But as a swaying Becky seized her left hand, a whooping Yaz took her right, and Marcus and Aled stood behind her, still singing, she revelled in being there.
October
Chapter 14
For some time, Rosie had suspected that she wasn’t the only person feeding the neighbourhood’s stray cat.
She’d seen him on several mornings over the past few weeks, and each time he seemed no less hungry than usual – but there was no doubt he’d got bigger during the summer. He now had the look of a greedy chancer, rather than the sad mien of a malnourished scrounger. He was less Oliver Twist, more Artful Dodger.
Rosie’s theory was confirmed when she walked up the alleyway to the rear of William Road. As she passed the fence that separated the alley from her garden, she stumbled across a shiny metal bowl, still half full of a strong-smelling, gelatinous mass that could only be cat food. Rosie didn’t much use this cut-through, but time was incredibly tight this morning.
Concerned that she hadn’t appeared before he left the flat for work – and aware she was due at the deli by nine – Aled had knocked on her door to discover she’d slept through her alarm. To his credit, he’d managed not to laugh as Rosie freaked out at the prospect of being late and bolted for the shower. When she emerged, he was gone – but she discovered that he’d made her a strong coffee in a travel cup and left it on the kitchen counter.
