‘Do you remember when you first came here to live?’ Gwyneth held out her hand.
‘I do.’ Mary took hold of her fingers, noticing the freckled brown blotches on the skin, the flesh of an old woman, and the raised thin bones on the back of her hand. ‘Coming here meant everything to us.’
She’d always known that Gwyneth’s offer to rent the cottage wasn’t only altruism. She also needed someone nearby who she could talk to about her son without worrying he’d be judged; who knew him as well, or better, than she did. That had been Tom. It hadn’t made any difference to Mary. She was still grateful. Iori was buried in the graveyard in Llamroth so Tom had felt close to him. In an odd way it had saved her brother’s sanity.
And Mam’s. From the moment they arrived in Wales she stopped drinking, even at that first Christmas, even on the anniversary of her husband’s death.
‘And me, it meant everything to me.’ There was a small smile on Gwyneth’s lips. ‘Ever since last week, after you told me you and Peter were getting married, I’ve had this thought in my head.’ She crossed to the Welsh dresser and tugged at the copper handles of one of the drawers. ‘And yesterday I decided to do something about it.’
The black metal box she pulled out looked heavy and Mary half-rose to take it from her. ‘Here, let me.’
‘No, I can manage.’ Gwyneth carried the box the table and unlocked it. ‘Put the lamp on, will you, cariad, I can’t see what I’m doing in this light.’
‘I’ll pull the curtains back a bit as well.’ Mary dragged the heavy blue velvet drapes as far as she could.
‘I want to talk to you about the cottage.’ Gwyneth rifled through some papers, peering myopically at first one and then another. Eventually she gave a small cry of triumph, flapping a sheath of yellowed pages in the air. ‘These are the deeds to your cottage. I’ve seen my solicitor and I have to take these to him.’ She smiled broadly, showing the gap in her upper gum where two teeth had fallen out. ‘And I want you to come with me.’ She sat in her chair, the documents held loosely in her hands. ‘Because I want to give you the cottage. It will be my wedding present to you.’
Mary watched the second finger on the face of the Welsh slate mantle clock turn a full circle before finally answering. She spoke steadily. ‘You’ve always been so kind to Tom and me but this…’ She held out her hands, palms upwards. ‘This is too much.’
‘I thought Iori would live there one day. During the war when he and Tom were in prison I hoped that they would come to live there.’ Gwyneth glanced around, her gaze finally settling back on Mary. ‘Tom and you coming to live in the cottage was the next best thing. The last few years have been better than I ever thought they could be after I lost Iori. I’m not getting any younger and I want you to have next door. It was cartref mam a ’nhad – my mother and father’s place, and I want to know it’ll be looked after when I’m gone.’
‘I don’t know what to say.’
‘Then say yes, cariad.’
‘If you’re sure?’
Gwyneth waited, watching Mary steadily. ‘I’m sure.’
‘I still think it’s too much.’ Mary hugged her. ‘But yes, Gwyneth, thank you, yes.’