The Dreamers (11 page)

Arianwen is nothing. She can see Jennifer, can feel her. But Jennifer thinks she has abandoned her. Arianwen aches inside. Soon this will be true. She knows she is dead. She cannot be Jennifer’s lover in life. She can only be a dream to her. It is not enough.

She remembers Jennifer’s touch, the pleasure they brought to each other.
But now it seems like a dream. It seems like a far away dream. Arianwen reaches for it but cannot grasp hold of it, not anymore. She cannot make it real.

Arianwen wanders through the village. She can no longer see it as though she were alive. Now, she sees the strange new people of Jennifer’s time. She sees their free manners, hears their loose talk. Things are different now.

She finds her way to the churchyard. She remembers playing here as a child. It is different too. There are many graves, some badly overgrown. She does not look at the names. She knows what she is looking for. She finds her parents’ headstones. And there, beside them, is her own grave. Her body lies there.

Jennifer cannot be loved by a body in the ground
. She cannot be loved by a ghost. She deserves happiness. Arianwen cannot bring her happiness.

Almost two months had passed since Jennifer’s night on the beach with Arianwen.
Her exhibition was a success and they’d had to extend their opening hours to accommodate the visitors. Some people had even come from Cardiff to see it.

But
Jennifer felt strange and empty without Arianwen: she missed her presence in her dreams; she missed her touch; she missed her music. She hardly felt any joy in her success; the hole inside her was too much. She heard from Seren every day and it helped. But still, the emptiness without Arianwen was almost unbearable.

Every day, she sat at the piano and played some simple music. She’d bought a simple music book and was getting the hang of things. It was still no comparison to Arianwen’s playing but it comforted
her a little, imagining Arianwen there with her, teaching her the piano. Jennifer felt sure Arianwen would teach her with patience and probably be a lot kinder on her than Jennifer was on herself.

She’d been reading through more of Arianwen’s letters as well, and had finally reached the last letter in the pile. She put off reading that one, as though it would mark the end of their relationship.
And Jennifer couldn’t stand the thought of that. She didn’t want it to end. She wanted her and Arianwen to go on forever.

She played softly. She’d been concentrating on learning the hymns Arianwen had played and sung to her.
She remembered the tunes well and was attempting to pick the right notes out by ear.

She played the song through, fumbling over the notes she wasn’t sure about and humming to keep the tune steady in her head.

She played the last note and sat back, pleased with herself.

A hand on hers, warmth flowing through her.

She gasped. ‘Arianwen?’

There was nothing.
But she was sure she had felt something. She looked around the room. No, it was empty and she no longer felt the presence. Arianwen had gone.

Arianwe
n watches Jennifer. She does not stay long but every day she comes and watches her lover. At least she can have these moments with her.

Jennifer is sad. Arianwen wants to embrace her. She wants to give her the happiness she deserves, to brush her cheek, show how much she loves her.
But she is afraid.

She knows she cannot have Jennifer, no matter what she does. She cannot truly have her as her lover.
She can only ever be an echo for the living.

Seren was worried about Jennifer. Her emails were bright enough but there was
a sadness underneath. Seren did her best to cheer her up whenever they wrote. She’d tell her jokes and anecdotes, and they continued to exchange information about Arianwen Jones, the cottage and Cilfachglas.

Seren didn’t know if she was helping but at least she was trying. At least Jennifer had somebody to talk to, a voice in the darkness, even if she wouldn’t admit what was troubling her.

Seren was at work again. It was a quiet day, a Wednesday, and there weren’t very many people coming in. Seren took the opportunity to tidy up a bit behind the counter. Anita, as usual, was leaning on the counter doing her nails.

‘How’s your girlfriend?’ Anita asked.

Seren hefted up a new box of carrier bags onto the counter. ‘I told you, she’s not my girlfriend. We’re just emailing.’

Anita smirked. ‘Had cybersex yet?’

Seren gave her a look. ‘No and I don’t intend to. Nothing’s going to happen unless … unless we meet and fancy each other. You can’t tell anything over the internet.’

When she got home, there was an email waiting for her. Seren sat down with her laptop and read it.

Seren,

I’m sad today. I keep thinking of Arianwen. I know you won’t understand, but I know her. She’s been with me here in the cottage. Except
now she’s gone and I can’t bear it. I keep reading her words. She wrote all these letters to a woman she loved but never sent them. She longed so much for happiness but never found it. I feel so bad for her.

Jennifer

Seren’s throat tightened and she swallowed hard. She just wanted to be there with Jennifer, to be able to comfort her, even just to hug her. But she felt so far away. Though she did have holidays owed to her at work and it would be good for her research to visit the village. She wrote back:

Jen,

I was thinking that I should come to Cilfachglas. I could learn a lot for my research.
I’d like to see your exhibition and it would be nice to finally meet. What do you think?

Seren

She sat back and reread Jennifer’s message.
I keep thinking of Arianwen ... I know her. She’s been with me here in the cottage.
She didn’t know what was going on but she knew that Jennifer needed her.

Jennifer sat on her
windowsill with the last of Arianwen’s unsent letters to Blodwyn. It was the last thing she’d written that had survived. Jennifer wondered how soon Arianwen had died after writing it. She unfolded the letter and began to read.

Blodwyn,

You have never looked at me. I have been alone all these years with only the Lord’s words to comfort me. I have no comfort from you. You have forgotten our childhood playing together. You have forgotten your hand brushing my arm and the soft looks you would give me. You have forgotten that I loved you. You have forgotten me. I know you will not visit my grave. No one will. I will be as alone in death as I was in life. You will never read my journal or even this letter.

Arianwen

Jennifer swallowed down tears. Arianwen had always been alone. Now, she had the chance of being with somebody but wouldn’t take it. She was fulfilling her own prediction that she would be as alone in death as in life.

Jennifer returned to the
piano again. She needed Arianwen to come back, to show her she wasn’t alone. She played slowly, still stumbling over the notes. Arianwen had not come back since that fleeting feeling three days ago.

As she played the hymn Arianwen had sung for her, Jennifer remembered the words in her own head.

Oer
yw’r rhew ac oer yw’r eira

Oer
yw’r ty heb dân yn y gaeaf

Oer
yw’r eglwys heb ddim ffeirad

Oer
wyf innau heb fy nghariad

She could
almost
hear Arianwen singing the words as she played. She remembered the English words and she began to sing them clumsily along with the Welsh running in her head.

Cold is the frost and cold the snowfall

Cold the house without fire in winter

Cold is the church without a vicar

Cold am I also without my lover.

Fingertips brushed her cheek and she sighed contentedly. As she sung the English words, another voice joined in. It was a whisper and it was in Welsh.

She played the last notes, then turned and looked into the soft eyes of her lover. They gazed at each other in silence, then Arianwen leaned forwards and brushed her lips against Jennifer’s jaw.

‘Thank you for thinking of me,’ she whispered.

Jennifer stood slowly, looking into Arianwen’s eyes. ‘Cold am I without my lover.’ She cupped Arianwen’s jaw and met her lips hesitantly. Was she real?

She was. Arianwen grasped Jennifer’s shirt and held her close, kissing her hard.

‘I’m sorry,’ Jennifer whispered. ‘I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you.’

‘Hush,’ breathed Arianwen into her mouth. ‘It doesn’t matter now.’

The left the piano behind and guided each other through to the bedroom. There they sank to the bed, slowly easing each other’s clothing away. They didn’t have to concentrate on it. They could focus only on each other.

Arianwen was warm, so warm against Jennifer’s body. She wasn’t a ghost, not tonight. She was just Arianwen, Jennifer’s lover.