The Green Hills of Home (15 page)

She tiptoed down the stairs still
trying very hard not to disturb him. She made it to the bottom, sidestepping
the squeaky bit on the second to last step. She smiled to herself, pleased she
was the first one down for once, she walked into the kitchen, turned the kettle
on and almost screamed when John said ‘Good morning’ from behind her. She
hadn’t noticed him already sat and working at the kitchen table when she came
in. He looked as immaculate as always and had clearly been up for quite some
time.

"Do you ever sleep?"
she asked half-jokingly.

"Only on Sundays and bank
holidays," he said with a laugh. "I’ve a lot of things I need to keep
an eye on; a General has to analyse his intelligence and plan his campaign you
know."

"Quite right Sir,"
replied Gwen, joining in the joke with a mock salute.

She excused herself after she’d
made some tea and scuttled back upstairs for a quick shower and to dress.

John was still typing away on his
laptop when she came back down feeling much more human.

Gwen wasn’t working at the
tearooms today; she owed Bronwyn and Brian quite a few shifts, and she’d
promised to make them up when John had left. They’d sworn she wasn’t
inconveniencing them, but she wasn’t entirely convinced. Still, she really
couldn’t work there today; today was all about Oscar.

The vets opened at nine and Gwen
had found out that Oscar could be picked up anytime after ten. By quarter to
ten they were in John’s car on the way to fetch him.

Oscar was absolutely thrilled to
see his dearest friends. He attempted to jump up at Gwen in his excitement,
luckily she managed to grab hold of him before his now weak back leg gave way.

Gwen crouched down on the ground,
gently drawing Oscar over. They sat quietly, she stroking him softly whilst he
gazed into her eyes adoringly. John watched them both, patiently waiting his
turn. He too was desperate to make a fuss of the invalid, and prayed Oscar bore
him no ill will for what had happened.

Eventually Gwen got up, dusting
down her clothes to rid herself of the worst of the fur. John caught her eye
and she understood he was asking her permission to go to Oscar. Without
hesitating she nodded and gave him a cheerful grin. John had never seen her so
beautifully happy.

John had his time with Oscar
whilst Gwen filled in forms and was told how to look after the convalescing
patient in the ensuing weeks as he healed. She was relieved that he shouldn’t
need any more visits to the vets unless any of his wounds took a turn for the
worse.

If Oscar thought it rather
peculiar that John carried him out to the car wrapped in his blanket and laid
him tenderly across the back seat, then he was polite enough not to say so. And
when Gwen sat down next to him he put his head on her lap and contentedly fell
asleep for the short drive.

John left for London a few hours
later, leaving Oscar snuggled up on a blanket on the sofa. He drove away safe
in the knowledge that the first of Gwen’s books was now pretty much word
perfect. He’d never felt disappointed to be almost finished on a novel before.
But he knew he’d find a way to come back to Gwen soon. He had to.

Gwen sighed and rubbed her
temples as she stared at her notes. Her head was beginning to ache; she felt
listless and a little fed up. Life carried on as before: she was doing pretty
much the same as she’d done when John was staying; the difference being that
now she had no-one to share it with.

John had been gone for almost two
weeks and, though he and Gwen had emailed about work, she was missing him. It
didn’t help that she had no idea if or when she’d see him again. She could have
a different editor for her next book and may never work with him in the future.
That was a thought that Gwen tried hard not to dwell on.

Gwen was kept busy doing as many
shifts as she could manage whilst caring for Oscar. The contracts, and
therefore her advance, still hadn’t arrived from Black Horse, and money was
tight. The couple of times Gwen had called to speak to someone in the finance
department, she’d been told they’d called back, but they never did. She had
debated whether to bring the matter up with John, but was a little embarrassed
to reveal the poor state of her finances to him, and anyway, author payments
weren’t anything to do with his job.

Gwen was too afraid to operate
the coffee machine while John was away, but when the wonderful call came saying
he’d be coming to stay again in order to start working on her second book, one
of the first things she thought of doing was messing it up a little bit so it
looked well-used.

Within five minutes of coming in
the door John walked over to the dreaded contraption and asked if she fancied a
coffee.

"Yes, please," she
replied, inching closer. Gwen tried to surreptitiously watch John as he used
the machine, but as far as she could tell he was just pushing buttons
completely at random.

He finished fiddling and held out
a coffee to her. She grasped for it greedily but John pulled the mug back out
of her reach.

"By the look on your face
you didn’t used this machine once since I’ve been in London did you?"

"I have" said Gwen
indignantly.

"I don’t believe you,"
retorted John grinning.

"I don’t care whether you do
or not!" said Gwen defiantly, but with a smile; she took her coffee from
his hand.

It didn’t take long for them to
relax back into a comfortable pattern for their days. John knew he’d done the
right thing in coming back so quickly, even if the decision wasn’t completely
determined by the best arrangement for his work and future. He’d spent years basing
everything around his career; this was totally the wrong time to be deviating
from that path, but he couldn’t get Gwen out of his mind. Part of him hoped
spending more time with her might break the spell of fascination and he could
resume his well-laid plans. But the rest of him just wanted to be with her.

He worked Gwen hard when she was
home and used the time she was out to keep up to date with his other authors
and his machinations. He remained as determined as ever to succeed in his
plans. John and Gwen even managed to agree (eventually) to a nine o’clock start
in the mornings. John walked Oscar slowly round the garden; made coffee and got
Gwen’s laptop started up whilst she made breakfast and tidied everything away
afterwards.

John also gave Oscar his little
saunter round if Gwen was working at the tearooms, but they’d take him out for
a gentle wander together last thing; the weather was so fine they took their
drinks outside and when Oscar had finished his business he’d come and sit on
one of their feet whilst they chatted. He’d get so comfortable he’d stiffen up
and have to be helped back into the house to his basket.

John also went with Gwen to visit
her mother at the hospital again, which Edith obviously enjoyed and seemed to
revitalise her. Gwen had explained how worried she was about her and what would
happen. Gwen was torn: she didn’t want her mother to stay in the hospital:
she’d been there so long now that she was feeling very disheartened and longed
for a quiet night’s sleep without all the noise of the busy ward, but the only
other option was a care home, which could be even worse. At least at the
hospital Gwen was able to visit every day, which mightn’t be the case when her
mother was moved.

John was certain he could help in
some way, but it had to be done discreetly, and the end result must end up
right for Gwen and Edith.

"I’ll take the laptop and
come to work with you," announced John one morning as Gwen was preparing
to leave for a shift at the tearooms.

"What? You can’t do that!"
said Gwen in despair.

"I won’t get in the way, and
at least if it’s quiet I can ask you a couple of questions if I need to."

"I really don’t think it’s a
good idea…" replied Gwen.

"I do," said John with
an air of finality. "We have a lot to get through. We need to make the
most of any time together we have."

Bronwyn looked straight past Gwen
to John when they arrived together at the tearooms. She came bustling across to
fuss over her new favourite customer.

It was only when she’d got John
seated at the tearooms’ finest table with a pot of tea and a big slice of
home-made banana cake that she smiled at Gwen and asked her how her mother was.

Gwen did her best to ignore John
and carry on with her work. He in turn was true to his word and wasn’t actively
trying to distract her. However, just his presence was enough to make her feel
very self-conscious; she was clumsier than usual and kept looking over at John
to check if he was glancing at her.

"Pathetic" she
muttered, scolding herself for her schoolgirl behaviour and resolving to
concentrate on work, only to be swiftly distracted when she spotted Bronwyn
once again bustling over to John to check if he needed anything. He didn’t, but
Bronwyn asked Gwen to make him a BLT anyway, whilst she sat down opposite him
for a chat.

Gwen chuckled to herself as it
became obvious that Bronwyn had settled down for the long haul. When she took
John’s sandwich over, Bronwyn asked if Gwen would make her a coffee and went
back to quizzing John about himself and his family. John made several attempts
to type but didn’t get very far. He certainly didn’t get the chance to ask Gwen
anything.

Gwen recognised a look of hope on
John’s face as he glanced up to the clock and saw his suffering was almost at
an end.

"So, will you be joining me
for my next shift? You and Bronwyn seemed to get along very well," said
Gwen, not even attempting to wipe the grin off her face as they walked towards
the car park.

"No, I don’t think so."

"Oh, that’s a shame."

John stayed silent.

 "How’s your mother today?"
asked John as he served up their supper of homemade beef stew. Gwen
contemplated how inexplicable it was that John always seemed to cook exactly
what she most fancied eating without her asking, and then replied:

"She’s thrilled that the
paperwork for the mortgage is all going through, but very nervous about where
the hospital is going to move her. After the first stroke she was having all
sorts of physiotherapy, but once she was eating and drinking independently they
just gave up and moved onto the newer patients. She’s been in there for months
now, and, especially since her second stroke, it seems like they’ve given up
and aren’t encouraging her to do anything anymore. They just want to pass her
on to somewhere else."

"Isn’t there any way she
could come back here?" asked John gently.

"She’d need a lot of
professional help which we just can’t afford; the only other option is the care
home, which I know Mam would hate, but it seems like it’s rapidly becoming the
only choice. The hospital won’t let her stay there much longer."

"And the hospital won’t pay
for her care at home?"

"No, they’ll provide some of
the occupational therapy, but hardly any of the nursing care, and not all of
the equipment she’d need."

"What would she need?"

"A wheelchair and a special
bed definitely. Ideally I suppose I’d have a disabled bathroom put in
downstairs, possibly with a door going into the study, which she’d have as a
bedroom. I’m not sure what else she’d have to have. There’s just no way that I
could get the money together to pay for everything," said Gwen, getting
teary.

She turned away from John so she
could dry her eyes, but felt his arm around her. From the way he held her Gwen
could tell he felt a little awkward but she didn’t care. She just really needed
a hug. As she turned in and rested her head on his firm shoulder she relaxed
into him. Inhaling slowly, she recognised his smell as that of the aftershave
she’d been drawn to what seemed like a lifetime ago in the London department
store: he was where she’d smelt it before. The reassuring scent must have been
on the coat he lent her as they walked to Sian’s flat the first day they’d met.

Gwen pulled away gently; a little
startled by how alive all her senses seemed to be. She was blushing furiously,
what must John think of her? He put his arm around her to comfort her and she
goes in for a full body hug and starts sniffing him!

"If you don’t mind I’ll head
up for an early night," she said, trying not to meet his eye.

"No, of course not"
replied John, "Are you sure you’re alright?"

"I’m fine, just tired."

"Ok, you go up; I’ll finish
off down here and lock the doors."

Gwen went upstairs, carrying
Oscar in her arms. She was still mortified by her behaviour but enjoying the
feeling of having someone that she trusted completely locking up the house for
her. It had been quite a while since anyone had taken even a little bit of
responsibility off Gwen, and she liked it.

Gwen got into her pyjamas and lay
very still in her bed, listening to the sounds of the night around her. Oscar
slept, as he often did, by her feet, an arrangement which meant she had to
change her bed clothes at least every week unless she wanted to completely
suffocate on the amount of hair that came off him. The wind made the windows
creak, but it wasn't unpleasant. This was the room she'd slept in her whole
life and that sound was like an old friend. She could hear something moving
outside, maybe a fox. An owl called out and another answered. Most people would
be nervous of the amount of noise but Gwen wasn't. Just as a New Yorker becomes
accustomed to the drone of the traffic outside their apartment building every
night, she was used to this; she barely noticed it unless she made an effort to
listen properly.

It always took Gwen a while to
get to sleep. She usually spent some time worrying about her mother and then
thought about whatever she’d last been writing. After about an hour she’d
become paranoid that she hadn’t put the fires out properly or turned the oven
off. She was up at about 8 in the morning to take Oscar for a walk. She
sometimes wondered what time she’d bother to get up if it wasn’t for Oscar.
Maybe she’d stay in bed, wearing her pyjamas for the best part of the day with
her laptop balanced on her legs. That thought always made her grateful that she
had her dog to care for, but made her ache. She knew she wanted more to life.
She wanted to have to get up because she needed to help her husband get ready
for work, get their children to school or take them out for the day if it was
the holidays. She didn’t want to end up an old maid. This realisation had begun
making itself clearer and clearer since her mother went into hospital and she
no longer even had her for company.