Megan of Merseyside (22 page)

She stopped at Betws-y-coed and went in search of a café. The holiday season had barely started so very few of them were open. She remembered the last time she had been there was with Lynn and her mother. She could almost sense their presence as she recalled how the three of them had strolled along the main street without a care in the world.

Snowdon was outlined majestically against the blue sky as she drove towards Capel Curig, its topmost peak wreathed in feathery, scudding clouds. Then she was on the last stretch of her journey, down into Beddgelert.

Snowdon was forgotten as Moel Hebog came into view. It was her first glimpse of it for three years and there was a sudden tightness in her throat. In a state of euphoria, she drove over the stone bridge that would take her up the hill and right past the cottage where she had lived as a child.

It felt like coming home.

Jennie greeted her with hugs and kisses. She seemed to Megan’s eyes to be bigger than ever, taller as well as plumper. She’d had her gingerish-brown hair shingled and it was now a fuzz that emphasised her round face.

‘There’s posh you look, Megan! And your own car!
Duw
I thought that was just a story to make me feel jealous. Not that I was, mind you, since I can’t drive anyway.’

They laughed together, bubbling over with snippets of news, as Jennie carried Megan’s suitcase up to the bedroom under the cottage eaves where she was to sleep.

‘There’s an old owl comes onto the sill each night. I hope its noisy hooting won’t frighten you,
cariad
,’ Jennie warned her. ‘My da talks about shooting it, but Mam says leave it be because it’s lucky. You know what she’s like! Nearly as superstitious as Gwyneth.’

‘How is Gwyneth?’

‘She’s fine, ever so pleased about you coming. I think she’s a bit put out, mind, at you staying here with me. She said we ought to split your visit so that you spent three nights at my place and three nights with her.’

‘Look, Jennie, I may as well tell you right away, I … I won’t be staying the whole week,’ Megan said awkwardly.

‘No? And why is that, then?’

‘I … I promised to look in on someone on the way back. I said I’d be there sometime Thursday afternoon. I hope that’s not putting you out …’

Jennie’s plump face clouded. ‘No, no of course not. I had counted on you being here all week, though. Got something special planned for Friday night, see.’

‘Oh!’ Megan flinched from her friend’s gaze. ‘I’m sorry about that.’

‘Perhaps we can change things round a bit.’ Jennie smiled generously. ‘Come on, we’d better get downstairs. Mam has made a batch of bake-stones. She said you’ve probably not had any since you’ve been in England.’

‘You make it sound like a foreign country,’ laughed Megan.

‘Well, that’s because it is, in a way. I expect
you’ll
find it quiet here after Liverpool. Not much happens. Except to Gwyneth, of course.’

‘Oh?’

‘Well, now, don’t think I’m trying to steal her thunder,’ Jennie said, her soft dark eyes full of concern, ‘but I must warn you that Gwyneth is engaged.’

‘Terrific. Anyone I know?’

‘Well, yes … that’s why I’m telling you.’ Jennie bit her lower lip, avoiding Megan’s eyes. ‘She’s engaged to Ifan Jenkins. We didn’t want you to get a shock, like, seeing as how you were once sweet on him.’

‘That was a long time ago,’ Megan said softly. ‘Thank you for telling me, though.’

It was the first of many indications of the way they had grown apart. She quickly found that many of the things Jennie and Gwyneth had planned to do, and which she would have found exciting at one time, now seemed tame and no longer of any interest to her.

I’ve changed, she thought, remembering the countless times since she’d moved to Liverpool when she had longed for the tranquillity of Beddgelert. Now, after her initial delight at seeing familiar faces and places, she found it much too quiet.

Stepping back in time made her restless. At least that was what she told herself, but deep inside she knew it was because she couldn’t wait for the second part of her holiday to begin.

Jennie and Gwyneth were a good audience. They listened wide eyed to Megan’s account of her new life. They sympathised about the awful place in
Liverpool
and seemed delighted by her account of the pleasant house they’d moved to in Wallasey. They sighed with envy when she told them about the wonderful shops in Liverpool and the delights of living so near to New Brighton and being able to go dancing at the famous Tower Ballroom.

She had written to let them know about the accident, but at first they seemed almost afraid to mention Lynn’s name. Once Megan began to talk about her, however, they were avid for every detail, especially about the Stork Club, and they envied Lynn’s job at the Copper Kettle.

They talked of nothing else until Megan thought she would scream. By Tuesday night she was so restless that she found herself counting the hours to when it would be time to leave.

On Thursday morning she was dressed, packed and ready to get on the road when Jennie went off to work. She was not due to meet Miles until early evening so she drove to all the places around Beddgelert that she had known as a child. It felt like a pilgrimage; almost as if she wouldn’t be coming back.

The sun was shining and, against the light blue sky, Moel Hebog had never looked more impressive. She climbed the rough track that had been her favourite walk with her father. Breathless, she sat down. The thin white scudding clouds that had floated around the peak began to darken; a cutting cold wind brought mist and rain. Shivering, she abandoned her walk and hurried back to her car.

The barren mountains on her left were almost
obscured
by the low cloud and heavy drizzle as she drove along the winding road towards Capel Curig. She had forgotten how desolate the area could be when the clouds loomed up from the west bringing driving rain in their wake, and how eerie it felt when low mists obscured Snowdon from view.

The need to get away, to put it all behind her, was so great that she didn’t stop until she reached Prestatyn. Then, realising that she was far too early, she parked near the prom and sorted out her suitcase, leaving in it only the things she would need over the next couple of days, bundling up the rest and stowing them in the boot.

As she handled the tissue-wrapped, filmy nightdress and silky lingerie she had bought especially for the occasion she felt like a bride going on honeymoon.

It was still only mid-afternoon so to pass the time she went into a café. She was too nervous to eat, but she drank two cups of coffee and then decided to walk along the shore.

The tide was so far out that it was just a grey strip on the horizon. The thin cutting wind was not confined to the mountains, it was here as well, robbing the sun of its heat.

She trudged along, studying her footprints in the damp sand, keeping her mind a blank, refusing to acknowledge that what she was about to do was wrong for so many reasons.

She had come to terms with the moral issue. She’d convinced herself that if Miles hadn’t insisted their engagement must be kept secret until his father had signed the papers confirming his directorship,
they
could have announced it long before now.

What still worried her, though, was what her parents were going to think about it all. Her mother still held Miles responsible for Lynn’s death and became enraged whenever his name was mentioned. No matter how hard she tried to explain to her how the accident had happened, her mother refused to listen.

In the end she’d given up trying, but she hadn’t stopped seeing Miles. It was as if his life was fused with hers. Sometimes she felt so mortified by his treatment that she hated him. When he ignored her, she felt as hurt as if he had stabbed her with a knife.

She was so immersed in her thoughts that it wasn’t until the sun began to dip that she became aware of how far she had walked. In a panic, she began to retrace her steps. The sun, now a fiery ball of red, was almost swallowed up by the blue-grey sea, and the skyline was a great smudge of reds and purples.

She drove recklessly from Prestatyn towards Mostyn, following the directions Miles had given her. She knew she was going to be late and was worried in case Miles might think she had changed her mind. What on earth would she do if he had given up waiting and gone back to Wallasey? she wondered.

She reached Mostyn and still hadn’t seen a signpost to Tynmorfa, the road leading to the Walkers’ house. Panic stricken she turned and drove more slowly back along the road to Prestatyn.

When she finally spotted it she couldn’t believe that the narrow sandy lane on the outskirts of the town could possibly be the right one. There was no one around she could ask so she decided the only thing to do was take a chance and see where it led.

With the sea on her right and high sandbanks on the other side she crawled along. The light was fading, and she had almost given up hope when the bungalow belonging to Rhys and Sybil Jones, the couple who looked after the Walkers’ place, loomed up out of the dusk.

Her heart raced as she accelerated past it and drove towards the Walkers’ house which she could now see in the distance. As her wheels scrunched on the gravel drive, the porch light went on and she could see Miles waiting on the doorstep. When she braked to a stop he came towards her, a black Doberman frantically barking at his side.

‘Where the hell did you get to?’ he snapped as she wound down the window.

‘I’m sorry if I’m late, but I spent too long in Prestatyn. I went for a walk on the shore. I’ve absolutely crawled all the way from the main road because I couldn’t believe that this really was the right place,’ she gabbled nervously.

‘I did warn you that it was along an unmade lane. Never mind, you’re here now. Park a bit closer to the house and come on in. Don’t take any notice of Jason,’ he added, pulling the dog to one side as she stepped from the car. ‘He isn’t nearly as savage as he sounds.’

As Miles took her case she patted the dog’s
smooth
, black coat and let him nuzzle her hand. Then she followed Miles into the house.

‘I’m starving,’ he said, dumping her case in the hallway and tossing her coat over a chair.

He led the way through to a large kitchen fitted out with oak cupboards and units. In the centre, a round oak table was laid ready for two people.

‘Hope you like these,’ he said as he took two jacket potatoes from the oven and placed one on each plate. ‘Sit down. Help yourself to salad and cheese.’

It wasn’t the most romantic start to the evening, Megan decided, but she had to admit the hot meal was very welcome. And it certainly helped to dispel the tension she’d felt building up ever since she had left Beddgelert.

‘We can leave these for Sybil Jones to do in the morning,’ Miles told her as he stacked their used dishes onto the draining board.

He picked up a tray. ‘Come on, we’ll take this through into the sitting room.’

He produced a bottle of whisky and insisted that Megan should have some of it with her coffee. The fiery liquid seared her throat and brought tears to her eyes, but it also dispersed the very last traces of the apprehension that had filled her mind ever since she’d left Beddgelert.

‘Shoes off, feet up,’ Miles instructed, indicating the comfortable settee drawn up in front of the log fire. Tiny bursts of desire bubbled up inside her as he slipped his arm around her, cuddling her close as they watched the flickering firelight. Her rapid breathing betrayed her turbulent emotions when
his
hands slid down from her shoulders to fondle her breasts and then moved sensuously over the outline of her hip as she lay pressed against him.

Megan shivered expectantly as Miles suddenly stood up and began leading her upstairs to his bedroom.

She had no idea where he’d put her suitcase. All the finery she had packed for their first night was no longer of any importance. All that did matter was that they were alone together.

Their undressing became feverish, clothes discarded like fallen leaves, piled indiscriminately. The passion that now burned between them overcame Megan’s modesty.

She had often dreamed of them being naked together; now she gloried in it. With a feeling of ecstasy she ran her hands over his smooth, tanned flesh.

She shuddered and gave a moan of joy as his lips encompassed one of her erect nipples. As her body arched, his responded. A hot hardness pressing against her thighs sent a shiver of burning anticipation through her. There was no holding back now; she wanted him: she was ready to give herself utterly and completely.

As their bodies melded, strange heats and a stab of searing pain flared inside her, leaving her dazed by their intensity. Moments later, she knew a fulfilment that made the waiting all the more worthwhile.

Utterly spent, his groan of exhaustion was sweet music to Megan’s ears. She cradled his head on her breast as they both drifted into a contented sleep.

She woke to the harsh screech of gulls, just as dawn was fingering the curtains, aware that she was quite naked.

Had it been a dream?

She turned and saw Miles’ dark head on the pillow beside her and the memory of all that had happened the night before came flooding back.

She stretched out a hand and traced the firm outline of his profile. The square chin, the broad, tanned brow. She ran her fingers through his dark wavy hair and then drew back, startled, when she saw he was watching her through half-closed lids.

Before she could speak he grabbed her, pulling her body across his. His blue eyes gleamed as his hands cupped her buttocks, pressing her against him, his need urgent.

‘Quick,’ he breathed. ‘Before Mrs Jones catches us!’

They made love again before breakfast. She wondered how he was going to explain her being there to the housekeeper, but when Sybil Jones arrived she accepted Megan’s presence without question. Megan felt relieved and wondered if perhaps Miles had told her in confidence about their engagement.

‘I’ll leave a chicken casserole in the oven for your evening meal. And you can have fresh fruit or biscuits and cheese to follow, if that’s all right.’