Page 14 of Beyond Repair
Katie crouched down next to Bryn’s chair and took his hand. ‘Hey, what’s this?’ she teased softly. ‘How about that cwtch* you’ve got saved up for Carys? How’re you going to get your mitts on her Welsh cakes sitting on your arse in your living room?’
He shrugged again. ‘I’m too old to be cavorting about the valleys,’ he mumbled. ‘Look at the state of me.’
‘Right, okay, let’s look, shall we?’ Katie asked, irritation lacing her tone. ‘From where I’m sitting I see a brave, funny, strong-minded man who served his country, who contributed to society his whole life, who looked after his family, who loved his wife and misses her every day but still won’t give up on life, because he knows it’s worth living. But I guess I could be wrong.’ Bryn turned to look at her and rolled his eyes. She bumped shoulders with him and he chuckled.
‘So what’s it gonna be, old man? You want to stand me up or are you going to show me a good time?’
‘Bossy bloody woman,’ he muttered under his breath, but didn’t resist as she helped him to his feet so he could take hold of the frame.
‘Oh sh … sugar. I’ll have to go get the car. It’s like an ice rink out there and I don’t think we … What the?’ Katie broke off as headlights swung into the drive.
‘You didn’t think he’d leave, did you?’ Bryn asked, raising his eyebrows. ‘That boy’s not going to be in the mood to take his eyes off you for a good long while.’
Katie frowned at Bryn. ‘Crikey, maybe I should do that dementia screen on you again.’ Bryn sighed and started shuffling forwards on his frame. But as they heard the engine shut off and saw the lights go out he turned to her and grabbed both her hands, causing him to lean into her heavily.
‘You listen to me now, Katie-girl,’ he said, his voice now clear and strong compared to earlier, and suddenly Katie could hear the tone of authority of a commanding army officer coming through. ‘Women like you are the reason men go into the jaws of hell to fight for their country’s freedom. That boy, he knows that. But Katie, he’s left a piece of his soul back there. He’s not right; he’s damaged … but if anyone can help him, you can.’ His eyes were staring into hers so intensely that Katie was rendered speechless for a moment, until a loud slam of the front door made her jump. Bryn’s hands jerked in hers and his voice dropped to a whisper. ‘Be careful. I respect him, I respect what he’s done, what he had to do, but I’ll not let him destroy you whilst he’s trying to claw his way out of the darkness to your light.’
*cariad –Welsh endearment meaning sweetheart
*cwtch –cuddle / hug
*yur –Welsh pronunciation of ‘here’
Chapter 7
Turned off the old hearing aids a while back
‘Honestly, you don’t have to stay,’ Katie told Sam for what felt like the thousandth time as they made their way into the church hall. Bryn had set off – at great speed, for somebody reliant on a frame – towards Carys Evans and her lemon cake. The format of the evening was a tea dance for those who could manage, and lots of sitting, chatting and cake-eating for those that couldn’t. Since his hip replacement two months ago Bryn had lost confidence, and once Katie found out he wasn’t going to the tea dance any more she decided she’d pick him up and take him herself. So every Saturday night that’s what she did, which in her opinion was more than a little sad, and also kind of like overtime, as most tea dance frequenters were her patients.
Last week alone she had diagnosed two cases of atrial fibrillation, a fungal skin rash (which Carys had not been shy about exposing to Katie in the middle of the dance floor despite it’s location in her groin – this however did not seem enough of a social faux-pas to dissuade Bryn of her charms), and a case of dementia, which could have come to a crisis had Katie not been able to arrange urgent support for the patient at home. Katie was by now resigned to her fate and she liked their company in a lot of ways, but she did not think that this was Sam’s preferred way to spend a Saturday night. As they made their way into the main hall, she spotted Olwen making a beeline for them.
‘Dr Katie,’ Olwen said as she drew near. ‘I’ve been having those dizzy spells, dear. Could you do the thing again? You know the bendy thing where you …’ Olwen trailed off as she noticed Sam. She had been stooped over on her cane so far during her approach that she must not have seen him, but once she had, there was no stopping her. Olwen shoved her cane in Katie’s direction and grabbed hold of Sam’s arm for support. From the look of her white-knuckle grip it didn’t seem like she was going to relinquish his arm any time soon.
‘Olwen, this is Sam,’ Katie said, and Olwen craned back her neck to look up at his face.
‘Hello, young man,’ she said, leaning heavily into him. ‘Not often we get tall drinks of water like you down at the church hall.’ Sam smiled down at her and Katie felt her mouth drop open.
‘It’s great to be here, Olwen,’ he said, his tone the softest Katie had ever heard it.
Olwen made a face, sucking in a breath through her teeth. ‘Uh-oh – Saesneg*. Well you can’t bethatgood looking and not have some flaws.’ Sam’s deep chuckle turned several heads around them. Katie could feel the slow ripple of excitement spreading through the hall. Tall gorgeous young male specimens were in general a bit thin on the ground in the church hall, the vast majority of its users being elderly females. The new minibus driver caused quite a stir last week and he was balding with a pot belly; Sam didn’t stand a chance.
‘Yes, English I’m afraid.’
‘English and Crakcach,’ she muttered accusingly.
Sam looked at Katie, raising his eyebrows in question, and she mouthed: ‘Posh, she means posh,’ then she made an apologetic grimace, saying, ‘Sorry.’ Cut-glass English accents didn’t always go down that well in rural Wales.
‘I suppose you can take me to get a drink though,’ Olwen said graciously, and sniffed. ‘Come on.’ She dragged him off in the direction of the tea stand, leaving Katie with her stick so that she could continue to lean heavily into Sam.
‘I think I can finally feel that HRT you prescribed for me kicking in,’ Katie heard from her other side, and smiled, turning to face Angharad, one of the organizers.
‘Drink!’ she heard shouted from behind Angharad, and glanced down to see Alun settled into one of the frayed armchairs, a furious scowl on his face.
‘Uncle Alun,’ Angharad said with infinite patience. ‘I got you a drink two minutes ago.’
‘Ffwcin* tea! Get me a drink, woman.’ Angharad ducked Alun’s stick, which he’d swung out in her direction, and quickly fished out a can of Stella from her capacious handbag, handing it over to Alun, who snatched it away and grunted unappreciatively.
Angharad shook her head and led Katie out of the firing line. ‘So who is this man you brought who seems to have single-handedly kick-started my ovaries?’ she asked; but before Katie could answer they were interrupted by a group of particularly spritely old ladies all intent on dragging Katie onto the dance floor, shouting: ‘Do the dance! Do the dance! Come on, Dr Katie, teach us the moves again!’
