The Dreamers (10 page)

Seren Jones sighed over her work. There were too many Joneses in Wales. It certainly was making tracing her family tree difficult. She’d been working on this for years now and had discovered a lot. She looked up at her wall chart, detailing the names, birth and death dates of her ancestors for seven generations. She knew everything about her family as far back as 1770.

There was only one problem she was stumbling over. Back in 1879, an inheritance had come to Hywell Jones from a cousin who had died, closing the last branch of the family other than Seren’s own. Seren wanted to know how that branch had died out.

When she’d found the reference on that message board to her ancestors’ village of origin, Cilfachglas, she’d felt a rush of excitement.
She’d answered the message but hadn’t heard anything yet.

For what felt like the hundredth time that morning, she checked her emails.
Nothing.

Sighing in frustration, Seren put her books away, grabbed her mobile and went out. Leaving her flat behind, she walked.
She’d lived in London all her life and was used to the haphazard life of the city. But she was the first of her family not to be raised in the Welsh countryside and sometimes the longing to go back was overwhelming.

Seren made her way to the park and sat against her favourite tree to watch the people passing by. She worked part-time at a music store. The rest of her time
was spent working on her music, researching her family tree or sitting in this park. She liked to people-watch, it made her feel less alone.

A girl about her own age sauntered past in a very short skirt. Seren smiled at the glimpse of smooth thigh.

Her phone buzzed. It was an email, and the subject was Cilfachglas. The name of the sender was Jennifer Davies. She paused as she considered the name. It sounded vaguely familiar.

Hi, I’m trying to find information about an Arianwen Jones. She lived in Cilfachglas sometime during the 1800s. If you have any information about her, I’d appreciate it.

Jennifer

Arianwen Jones. She could be a relative, or it could be the too many Joneses in
Wales syndrome again. Seren dashed off a reply. Could this be what she’d been waiting for?

Jennifer lay in bed gazing blankly at the ceiling. She’d been trying to think Arianwen to her,
like she had come to her in her dreams all those times. But it was no good. Arianwen was gone. She wasn’t coming back. Perhaps she wasn’t a ghost anymore?

No, that wasn’t true. Jennifer could feel the echo of Arianwen’s presence in the house still.
But maybe she didn’t want to be with Jennifer anymore.

Jennifer propped herself up in bed. She couldn’t have Arianwen with her now but she could be close to her in another way. She could read her words.

She took out the letters. None had even been stamped and they were all folded into one bulging envelope. She emptied them out, sorted them into date order, and picked up the first one to read.

                                                                                                                              18th May 1852

Dear Blodwyn,

I admire you so. I think about you always. Your golden hair is the sun shining down on me. You are in my dreams. Every moment, you are on my mind. If I only had the courage, I know we could be together. I would not have a care for what my Da thought, or my mother. It would not matter how your parents objected. I would take you away and make you so happy. To see you smile would make me happy forever. If only I had the courage.

My deepest affection, Arianwen

Arianwen had been in love then. Jennifer felt a little comforted by that fact. Perhaps loving Blodwyn had given her some happiness.

She got up, leaving the letters where they were. Somehow, reading that letter had given her the energy to do something.

There wasn’t much she could do.
She hadn’t put any energy into finding work recently. It didn’t seem important. Not knowing what else to do, she checked her emails.

There was one from Seren Jones, the person she’d emailed about researching the village.

Hi Jennifer,

Thanks so much for replying! I
’m really excited by the woman you mentioned. I think she may be a relative of mine. I’ve been trying to find out about a branch of my family which died out in the 1800s. My ancestor Hywell Jones received an inheritance from an unknown relative in 1879. Could this perhaps be Arianwen Jones? What do you know about her?

Seren Jones

Jennifer read the email over three times before she replied.

Hi Seren,

I think Arianwen did die in 1879. I am living in the house where she used to live and I’ve found a diary of hers and some letters. The last letter is dated 1879. Do you know whether your ancestor inherited the house as well?

Jennifer

Hi!

There was a property sold at around that time, to a Mr Marks. Hywell had moved away from Cilfachglas as a young man and couldn’t cope with the upkeep of two houses. I’m sure I’ve heard your name somewhere. Are you well known in London?

Seren

Hi Seren,

That makes sense. I inherited the cottage from my uncle. The family never really did anything with it. It still has Arianwen’s piano in it.

Not really well known, but I’ve had a few photos in a few galleries
in London. Maybe you’ve seen my work?

Jen

Hey Jen,

Wow, she played the piano? Awesome. I love music. Must be in the family! Yeah, I think I must have! I saw a photographic exhibition last year on the old houses for the poor in London. What that you?

W
hat are you up to today? I’ve got to deal with my new airhead cashier at work. She’s lovely but a bit dim. One of those who cares more about her nails than looking after customers!

Seren

Seren hummed along to the punk girl rock
music which throbbed through the shop. That was one of the things she loved about her job. She could rock out whilst doing it. She knew a lot of the customers and she loved chatting with them and answering all their music related questions. She knew everything there was to know about rock music and a lot about every other type of music.

Today, as she bopped about filling up the CD racks, she was thinking about Jennifer. They’d been emailing now for a week. She looked forward to seeing Jennifer’s name in her inbox and began to look for it whenever her phone pinged that she had an email.

‘You’re cheerful today,’ said Anita, the young shop assistant. She leaned on the counter, filing her nails and not paying much attention to the cash register.

Seren grinned. ‘I’ve got good things on my mind.’

‘A girlfriend?’ Anita asked, sniggering a little. Being seventeen and a little empty-headed, she still thought it was hilarious that Seren was gay.

‘Just somebody I’ve been emailing. I don’t actually know her. Though I feel like I do, which is
kinda weird.’

Anita laughed. ‘Sounds like you’re in love.’

Seren shrugged, smiling just a little.
Maybe if I actually knew her.
She carried on with her work. It had been a while since she’d had a girlfriend, or even gone on a date. She didn’t think she was particularly lonely. It wasn’t as if she had an unhappy life. But she would enjoy sharing her life with somebody.

Jennifer sat in her chair with another letter. She’d been slowly
reading through the letters, which covered many years. They had told the story of Arianwen falling in love with Blodwyn, then being rejected by her.

My dearest Blodwyn,

I see how happy you are with your children. You love them so. If I could, I would give you as many children as you would wish for. I would bestow affection on you always. Your husband works hard to provide for you but does he give you the affection you deserve? Does he love you dearly? I love you more than I love myself, though you have never desired my love. I wish to kiss you, to press my lips against yours and pour all my love into you. But I cannot. You do not want me.

Arianwen

Jennifer got up and wandered over to the piano. She’d been playing every day, attempting to pick out basic tunes with clumsy fingers. It was merely an echo of Arianwen’s playing but it was better than the silence. She began to recite the words Arianwen had taught her. She didn’t remember the Welsh, only the English, and she couldn’t play the tune but sang it instead. Her voice seemed to warm the room.

All the stars’ eyelids say,

All through the night,

‘This is the way to the valley of glory,’

All through the night.

Darkness is another kind of light

To show true beauty,

The Heavenly family in peace,

All through the night.

‘Arianwen, why won’t you come back?
I miss you so much.’

There was no response.