Page 11 of Italy and Forever

‘Goodbye, Ginny. I’ll see you in Italy.’

Her breath returned slowly after he’d left the room and she felt as though she were waking from a dream. Or returning home from a very awkward date, the worst she’d been on in recent memory. But she was buzzing as though she’d drunk his coffee as well as her own.

When she’d admitted he made her nervous, what she’d meant was that she couldn’t handle the combination of attraction and insecurity he brought out in her. What had he meant when he’d said the same thing about her?

At least she didn’t have to see him for another seven weeks. Her dating ban would start to have an effect and the next time she saw him, she’d be calm and sincere in friendship and neither one of them would be… nervous.

5

Rhys turned his old Ford for Cardiff without thought. He’d been working so much at the Admiral, it made sense to head for home as soon as he had two days off to spend time with Mam while he could. He had some equipment to buy now he’d agreed to photograph another wedding. He still wasn’t entirely sure how that had happened.

He’d been right over the past year to stay as far away from Ginny Weller as possible. She was a force of nature.

His thoughts were still spinning as he crossed the Severn on the M4 and arrived back in Wales. Objectively, nothing had changed. He’d planned to attend the wedding anyway. But objectivity was one of the great paradoxes of his life.

He’d always found that studying something through a camera lens was like touching it, feeling it – becoming it, in a way. A great photo was one where he could almost taste the shadows and the light, the elements of contrast and cohesion that made his work art. The prospect of capturing the emotion of a wedding made him feel raw already.

Staying apart from others had saved his mental health all these years. He belonged out among the rocks and the birds and with the people who made themselves part of that landscape. He didn’t belong at a wedding party. That was Ginny’s natural habitat, with her open heart. They needed different air, which must be why it was so difficult to be in a room with her.

Arriving at his mother’s terraced house on the outskirts of Barry, he chided himself for being dramatic as he parked, then strode up the drive. Luckily, she was home.

Lesley Bowen always had a beaming smile for her son, and a powerful hug, even though he’d towered over her since he was thirteen years old. Although he was used to it now, Rhys never stopped expecting he’d recognise her. But there was a clear disconnect between his cherished memories of Mam and the woman wrapping her arms around him, who felt right and smelled right, but her face didn’t compute.

In the year after the accident, he’d hated seeing her. Everyone had felt so wrong to him, when he was the one who’d changed. He could tell in the slightly desperate cling of her hands and the occasional tightness he detected in her lips that she’d never quite recovered from seeing her son recoil from her.

It had always been just the two of them, living in the Valleys when Rhys was a child. He hated to think how much he’d hurt her when he was coming to terms with the way his brain worked now.

But today, his chest also twinged at the thought that Ginny had lost her mother entirely. That information had surprised him. How could the incessantly chirpy Ginny have experienced that profound grief at such a young age? And the insistence that she was okay, because she was close to her stepmother? He doubted she realised she’d clenched her back teeth when she’d said that.

He gave Mam a longer squeeze than usual and followed her into the house with its greying wallpaper and photos of him as a child – as well as photos he’d taken – adorning the walls. It would be a little embarrassing to ever bring anyone here.

‘Rhys bach,’ she said fondly, gripping his arm as though the extended hug hadn’t been long enough for her. ‘You came all the way to see me.’

‘Of course, Mam.’

‘I won’t complain, but it does make me think you’re giving me all this time because you know you’ll be gone a while come November.’

‘If you guilt-trip me the moment I step through the door, perhaps I’ll be reluctant to come,’ he said drily.

‘It’s the only type of trip I go on, love,’ she said affectionately. ‘Don’t take away my joy in it.’

He trailed her into the narrow kitchen, where she put on the kettle. ‘Maybe you should plan another one. Come and visit me.’

‘What would I do in Canada? You wouldn’t be able to pry me from the radiator. I’ve just settled into my lovely new house by the sea.’

Her definition of ‘just’ was a little different from his. She’d lived here five years now.

‘Besides, you’re moving to Canada to get away from all of us, aren’t you?’

He wasn’t sure who she meant by ‘us’. ‘Mam,’ he warned her, ‘it’s the best assignment I’ve ever won – two years at a major national park.’ He was still amazed he’d been selected.

‘Aw, so it’s just a little extra perk that it’s two years alone in an isolated place up a mountain instead of just a few months as usual?’

‘That is a perk,’ he mumbled in agreement, fishing the teabag out of his mug.

‘So,’ she said when she’d led him to the dining room and slid onto a chair. ‘Have you told any of your friends yet?’

He shook his head.