Page 95 of Italy and Forever

Tomorrow!

It wasn’t long enough to plan what she was going to say, work out what gift was the right thing to communicate ‘I love you, but you don’t have to love me back’, what gesture she could make to prove she meant it.

She knew she was overcomplicating things. Rhys didn’t need gestures and gifts. Either he would respond or not. She couldn’t control the outcome and it scared her to think how much more devastated she’d feel if she told him she loved him and he politely patted her on the shoulder.

But one thing hadn’t changed: Ginny was stubborn and she wouldn’t give up until he damn well told her to.

39

She imagined she could hear Sophie’s complaints about her heavy foot on the accelerator the following morning, even though her friend wasn’t there to actually say anything. Today, she was inclined to think she’d been a stunt driver in another life, more suited to avoiding dramatic accidents on the motorway than driving in stop-start traffic over the River Severn.

When she deemed the hour no longer antisocial, she dialled Reshma’s number. ‘Morning!’ she said brightly when her boss answered. ‘Sorry to bother you, but⁠—’

‘You don’t sound sorry,’ Reshma grouched.

‘Okay, I’m not really sorry, but I do need your help. Do you have an address for Rhys? I think his mother lives somewhere near Cardiff.’

There was murmuring over the line and Ginny’s eyebrows lifted when she heard Willard’s voice in the background.

‘Give me a minute and we’ll text it to you,’ Reshma replied. ‘And I hope I go back to sleep, otherwise you can forget your bonus for this year.’

‘Reshma, you’re going to start paying bonuses?’

‘No, I’m joking. Bye, Ginny.’

As she followed the signs for Cardiff, she mused on Reshma’s ‘situationship’, quite approving of her boss’s determination to keep her independence. Relationships, it seemed, came in all shades and marriage, while a beautiful symbol and something to celebrate, didn’t need to be a part of everyone’s.

In fact, Ginny wasn’t even thinking about one day marrying Rhys. Right now, she’d be content just to clap eyes on him.

She pulled over to programme the directions into her phone and followed the instructions to the seaside town of Barry, thinking about the moments when Rhys’s lilt grew a little stronger, when he’d spoken about his mam and told her about gathering chestnuts in Pontypool Park, although she had no idea where that was.

Parking in front of the tiny house with lace curtains and a fussy garden, she smiled as she climbed out of the car and rushed up the path to ring the doorbell. The woman who answered had curly grey hair and a crochet cardigan – and a broad, knowing smile.

‘Hello, cariad,’ she said as soon as she opened the door. ‘I was hoping I’d get to meet you. Come in for a cup of tea. I don’t have any of that fancy herbal stuff Rhys likes, but if you don’t mind a good Yorkshire brew⁠—’

‘Um, thank you, Mrs⁠—’

‘It’s Lesley, lovey.’

‘Thank you, Lesley, but I was really hoping to catch Rhys before…’

The way Lesley turned slowly, her brow sinking, shot panic to Ginny’s toes. ‘But he’s gone. He left yesterday.’

‘What? I thought his flight was today.’ Had he dropped in on her dad on his way to the airport?

‘Oh yes, his flight’s today – this evening from Bristol. But he went to say goodbye to his friends in Weymouth. I thought he might have gone to see you, if I’m honest. I didn’t think he’d have it in him to leave without saying goodbye to you, not with everything you mean to him.’

She wanted to grasp Lesley’s shoulders and ask, ‘What? What do I mean to him?’ but more important right now was to find him.

‘I think you need to sit down. Come in, have a cuppa and I’ll call him now in a minute.’

‘Yes,’ Ginny said, trying to slow her thoughts down. She couldn’t quite picture calling him herself. What she had to say was so delicate, and trying to explain why she wanted to see him would be equally difficult. But if Lesley called, she could find out where he was and go from there.

She had to sit through an hour of stories and two albums of old family photos – the ones from Rhys’s early years were yellowed with age, which amused her – before she thought it wasn’t too impolite to say, ‘Do you think we could call him now? Find out where he is? I’d really hate to miss him.’

‘Oh, gosh, yes. I was supposed to call him. Let me get the phone. Better from the landline, see?’

Ginny didn’t really, but she just smiled politely when Lesley left the room and spent the few moments contemplating the pictures of a young Rhys, wild-haired and skinny, with a nose full of freckles.