Redemption Song (32 page)

A waitress slouched over. ‘Cappuccino. No chocolate,’ Allegra said in cut glass tones. She sounded posher than ever in the dismal café.

‘Semi or full?’ the waitress sighed.

‘Have you red top?’ Allegra said.

But of course, this woman is taut and lean, no excess fat on her.

The waitress stared at Saffron.

‘Just water, please. Tap’ll do,’ she mumbled.

She watched the waitress cross the room to the counter, her flip-flops slapping against dry, cracked heels.

She needs to treat that xerosis; some Aveeno cream at least.

Elbows on the table, Allegra rested her chin on her hands, and looked at Saffron. Her features were awash with pity and Saffron itched to wallop her. She’d not harboured such violent impulses towards anyone before. She sat on her hands to ensure she didn’t.

‘So … what has he told you?’ Allegra began.

‘About …?’ Two could play at that game. No way was Saffron going to reveal what she knew first. She wondered if Joe had ever shown Allegra his art, and an unpleasant image of them disturbed her thoughts. She pushed it away.

‘Me. Us. Him,’ Allegra said, sounding weary, as if it was all a waste of her time.

‘You …’ Saffron shrugged in a not-a-lot-he’s-forgotten-about-you manner. At least that’s what she hoped the gesture conveyed. He hadn’t told her much about Allegra, but she wasn’t going to let on.

Allegra lifted her chin from her knuckles and tapped her chest with her thumbs. ‘Let me guess … he’s told you very little. Almost nothing. I’m the woman who left him, who broke his heart, and you think he’s over me, that he’s free?’

Saffron nodded. She couldn’t help it.

Allegra continued. ‘Did he tell you why I left him? That it wasn’t by choice? That we were forced apart? That I’ve been waiting, longing, for the day we can be reunited? And that he has been too?’

‘You’re talking in riddles. I prefer plain speaking.’ It was difficult to force the words out; Saffron’s mouth was so dry. Where was the waitress with the water? It was the cappuccino that was taking ages. She could hear the spluttering and frothing of the coffee machine, though it sounded as if it were being made at the end of a long tunnel.

‘Why do you think Marcus has been using an assumed name?’

Saffron remained silent, her heart thumping so violently she felt sure Allegra must hear it.

‘He went to prison.’

Saffron shrugged. It wouldn’t have been for a heinous crime, for something unforgiveable. Everyone makes mistakes.

‘For me. He lied for me and went to prison for it. He took the rap for my crime. Can you imagine loving anyone enough to do that?’

The waitress appeared and placed the coffee in front of Allegra.

‘Thank you, that’s perfect.’ She smiled at the woman, all charm.

Nonplussed, the waitress looked over at Saffron and said, ‘I’ll just get your water.’ Saffron nodded, her insides trembling.

Please God, I hope she can’t see me shaking.

Saffron wanted to shout at Allegra that it wasn’t true, but it would have been impossible without a sip of water and anyway, she didn’t know that it wasn’t.

The revelation hovered between them. Allegra picked up two packets of sugar, tore them open, and poured the contents into her drink. She stirred slowly, the chinking of the spoon against the cup the only sound in the café.

Skimmed milk but sugar?

A whoosh from the tap and Saffron knew her water was on its way at last. She was grateful for the pause, it gave her a chance to think. To absorb what Allegra had told her, unpick it.

The water was lukewarm but Saffron didn’t care. Her hand shook as she drank and she cursed her wayward, disobedient body. ‘So why didn’t he come and find you the moment he was out?’

It was Allegra’s turn to shrug, dismissive. ‘Because I’ve been in jail too. We were told to stay away from each other, but love is hard to stop, isn’t it?’

‘Quite the regular Bonnie and Clyde.’ Saffron felt sick. She picked up her phone which she’d placed on the table beside her. She was late for her meeting with Joe. She had to know the truth. His truth.

She stood. ‘Excuse me.’

Allegra gripped Saffron’s wrist, nails digging into her flesh. ‘He loves me. I’ll get him back. You’re nothing. Nothing at all.’

Saffron shook her arm free and staggered out of the café, pausing on the high street, blinded by the sun, its dazzling rays an insult to the darkness enveloping her.

The promenade was busy, that’s why the arcade and the café were so quiet. Everyone was out and about enjoying a beautiful day. Saffron ducked and darted between gaggles of teenagers, families with buggies and toddlers, and grannies ambling along, scanning the crowds for Joe. She’d never seen Coed Mawr so busy. Today of all days. It occurred to her that news of the ballroom fire must have drawn the tourists. How sad that people dashed to witness tragedy, to gaze on destruction and ugliness. Maybe they would notice Coed Mawr’s shabby beauty too and come back.

‘Sorry. So sorry.’ She bumped into a solidly built man. Still reeling from the collision, her shoulder thumping – the force of the impact could have dislocated it – she spun to check the beach.

Her heart swelled. There he was, looking out towards the horizon, low-slung jeans, strong, broad shoulders, his long, smooth neck. She remembered how soft it felt when she kissed him there, the brush of hair at its apex, the tip of a bat’s wing at its base. He turned, spotting her immediately amongst the hordes, as if his eyes were programmed to seek out her, and her alone. She stepped towards the promenade railing. He moved up the beach towards her. Her heart ebbed like the tide.

His face said it all. He knew she’d seen him with Allegra. She gripped the railing and leant forward, shouting, not caring that people might stare.

‘What is your name?’

He came closer, so that he was standing on the beach below her, looking up, imploring. ‘Does it matter?’

‘It matters to me.’

He dropped his head, and held his forehead, the longer section of hair falling forward, obscuring his face. He could have been crying, or praying. Saffron pushed herself off the railings and raced to the steps and down onto the beach. She held him at the elbows, waiting for him to look at her. She became aware of a presence next to her. A flash of red. Allegra.

‘Marcus?’ Allegra said, reaching for him.

Saffron let go and screamed, ‘Is it true?’

He looked up and nodded, his face awash with pain, remorse, regret? Saffron couldn’t tell.

‘I’ve been inside, yes.’

She screamed again, louder this time. She pointed at Allegra. ‘Did you take the blame for her?’

He nodded again and Saffron gasped and clamped her hand across her mouth. Like a knife wound, she didn’t feel any pain when the blade went in, when he admitted he’d been to jail. It was when it came out, with the second admission, that she howled and folded over, her chest on her knees, blood crashing round her brain like a tsunami, blinding her.

‘I was in love. Thought I was in love,’ he said.

Saffron stopped listening and held her breath. It had become clear.

This is my punishment: I am to lose my true love; he will be snatched away.

Light-headed, she stood upright and gasped for air, hyperventilating, tears spilling over her face. Joe reached for her and she pushed him away.

Saffron ran. The last thing she saw before she staggered off the beach was a slow smile of victory shadowing Allegra’s beautiful face.

Chapter Thirty

It had been such a wonderful afternoon that Rain didn’t think the evening service could top it. But to her surprise, it looked as if it might. The chapel was packed. The regulars were there, naturally, done up in their Sunday best. Some even wore hats, though Rain admitted this might have had more to do with the force of the sun’s rays than the force of respect for God’s house. Not that she bought into all that nonsense. Did anyone these days? Almost certainly not, though one or two of the most elderly parishioners commented how nice it was to see an effort being made to look smart for chapel, as they were wheeled through by carers disgruntled at having to attend. She nodded and smiled but neither agreed nor disagreed.

The chapel, with its thick walls, arched windows, and stubborn damp, was cool all year round and the heat of the early evening sun took Rain’s breath away as she stepped outside the door to say goodbye to her flock. She removed her pink cardigan and tied it around her waist, enjoying the warmth on her bare arms. It was one of those moments when she felt the Lord’s power and bounty at full throttle. It was perfect.

The last guest wobbled down the path and through the gate. Rain sighed, the moment gone. It would take only minutes to clear up and a long evening stretched ahead. She fancied sitting in the manse garden with a glass of icy, fizzy wine, a nice Cava. But she didn’t know when Saffron would return – if she’d return for the night – and she couldn’t drink a whole bottle by herself. She tipped her head to the sky. Candyfloss pink striped the blue. It was magical.

I will go for a walk. Why not?

‘Hello there.’

Startled, she jumped. Eifion stood at the chapel gate. ‘I hope you don’t think me presumptuous, but I was wondering if you fancied a walk this evening? Lovely, isn’t it? I closed the hut early. Didn’t want to waste it. The evening, I mean. Ceri says it’s no wonder I’ve got money troubles. Never make a businessman, me.’

‘Small pleasures. They’re what make life, not money and possessions.’ She smiled. He looked good out of his overalls and ill-fitting jeans. He wore a pair of beige chinos and a short-sleeved, checked shirt. Rain found herself wondering what it would feel like to run her palm across the gentle curve of his belly, if he had a line of hair running from his navel, if his skin was smooth and soft to the touch.

A cough interrupted her thoughts. ‘I’ll be off then,’ he said. ‘Hope you didn’t mind me asking.’

‘Not at all.’

He turned to leave.

‘I’d love to come.’

He swung back round, his face illuminated by an enormous grin, revealing those lovely teeth.

‘Too beautiful to waste, as you said,’ Rain continued. ‘Give me a minute to lock up and grab my handbag.’

‘Take as long as you wish. I’ll be here,’ he said.

Though it was after seven when they reached the promenade, it was still busy. ‘I’d have to agree with Ceri, you’ll never be the next Alan Sugar. You could be raking it in,’ Rain said, pointing at the pier which thronged with people.

‘I’d rather be here with you,’ Eifion replied, turning to supposedly admire the skyline.

Rain caught the blush on his cheeks. To cover his embarrassment, she ignored his comment and added, ‘All come to check out the gory remains of the ballroom, no doubt.’

‘They’ll be disappointed. It’s blocked off ages before the ballroom. The businesses further up the pier are rabid; they’re losing money, all closed off like that. And there’s no damage to their stalls. Safety issue, I suppose.’

‘And here’s you, shutting up shop of your own free will!’ she laughed and he joined in.

‘It’s a bit bonkers down here for me. I’m not keen on the crowds. Shall we climb the rise and look from up above?’

‘I’d like that very much.’

If Eifion had offered his hand, Rain would have taken it. But he didn’t. Instead they weaved their way through the crowds separately, up towards the less well-known path to the top of the cliff. It was a steeper climb, but shorter and quieter, and as they were both good walkers they reached the summit in no time. Breathless and hot, Rain flopped on the grass and closed her eyes. Eifion sat beside her.

‘Bit exhausting, isn’t it? But worth it for the view.’

‘Definitely.’ She sat up to take it in.

‘It’s the thing I’d miss most if I had to leave, the view. The drama of it,’ he said.

‘You’ve lived here all your life?’

‘Yes. Makes me sound very unadventurous, doesn’t it? But I love it here. Don’t want to leave. And it’s not just the view; it’s the people, the town, the pier, even the chapel, which, as you know, I hardly frequent. I’m like an old oak, roots so deep it’d kill me to move.’

Rain laughed. ‘We can find adventure everywhere. Moving can be a form of running away.’

It was for me. But you can’t run away from yourself.

‘Have you found adventure here, in Coed Mawr?’ he asked.

‘I think so. I’ve found peace.’ She looked into his eyes and held them there for what felt like an age. He broke the hold first.

‘Are you hungry? It’s getting late. We could have dinner.’ He jumped to his feet.

‘I ate a huge lunch …’

‘Doesn’t have to be much. Pizza, or we could share a bag of chips and sit on the bench by the toy train at the bottom of the rise.’

‘Like teenagers?’

‘If you like.’

‘I like.’ She held out her outstretched hand and he pulled her up from the grass with ease. His grip was firm, not bone-crushing, and his fingertips were calloused and rough. His was a secure hold.

They took the tourist train – the toy train as Eifion had called it – back down to town and bought a large fish and chips for one, and quibbled and laughed over how much vinegar to add. They agreed to go easy on the salt. Afterwards, they drifted through the windy streets, ‘to walk off all that fat,’ as Rain had put it. Outside Y Castell Eifion suggested a drink. Rain dithered. She wasn’t sure she should be seen in a local boozer, older parishioners might not approve, and anyway she wanted to suggest a glass of wine in the garden of the manse. Would that seem forward? She didn’t want to give Eifion the wrong impression. Whatever that was. She had no idea how to play this. She had met Stephen young; she’d been a faithful wife. And she wasn’t even sure what ‘this’ was, if anything. Her head began to spin.

‘I … I was wondering …’ she began, but she was interrupted by a yell.

‘Dad! Rain! Fucking hell, thank God, I’ve found you.’ Ceri came running up the street, though it was more of a fast waddle. Her stride was severely restricted by her tight little skirt. Rain pushed unkind thoughts about pelmet skirts and weightier women from her mind. Ceri was a darling, if foul-mouthed.