Cherry blinked at him through the droplets on her lashes and smiled. She’d made the booking in her name and didn’t bother correcting his assumption they were married. In fact, she was delighted he’d said it, and something about the way the trip had started so perfectly made her think it was going to be a very successful weekend.
“Do you want to see your room and then come down and have a pint, something to eat?”
“Sounds great,” said Daniel, and Ted lifted the bar hatch and took them through the lounge area, which was populated with a mix of elderly locals, mostly men in worn green quilted jackets, and a few other young faces—people who’d also come to experience the white water on the River Tryweryn. At the back of the room was a door that led to some narrow steps. They followed him up and came to a long landing, off which were the bedrooms.
“How was your journey?” said Ted. “Came from London, didn’t you?”
He said “London” like it was a foreign country.
“That’s right,” said Daniel as Ted opened the door of room number 3.
“This is your place for the night. Everything’s self-explanatory, but if you need help turning on the taps, you know where to find me.” He nodded at them; then he disappeared back to the bar.
Cherry immediately started to look around. It was a small room filled with a double bed, an old wooden wardrobe, a low table with some local leaflets, and two bedside cabinets. The bed itself looked laughably small, as doubles did when you had a king or, in Daniel’s case, a super-king-sized at home. It was covered with a thick duvet and a green-flecked throw was folded across the foot end. Another door led to the bathroom, where to her relief, the towels looked clean, as did the shower. And the suite, thank God, was white, not some awful aged pink or avocado green. It had been the only place available that was close to the river and it was cheap—something she’d been relieved about, given she was already in so much debt.
She came back into the bedroom to see him bounce onto the bed like a kid. “Come on,” he said, holding out his hand.
She smiled and joined him. They tested out the springs, definitely some wear and tear, but not noisy, thankfully. Then they lay, side by side, for a moment, and Cherry felt herself roll toward the middle. She raised an eyebrow.
“It’ll be more cozy,” he said.
She laughed and jumped up, going to peer out the window. Outside she could just make out what looked like a stable and a lot of open fields.
“You hungry?” said Daniel from the bed.
“Starving.”
* * *
Ted had lit a fire; it was that nippy. The mornings had started having that autumn chill to the air, the seasons on the turn.
They found an empty table, with cutlery wrapped in a dark green paper napkin and place mats with black-and-white etchings of the pub on the front.
“It’s only lamb pie tonight,” said Ted, bringing over two steamingplates. “My wife got a touch of the sniffles, so didn’t get around to doing the chicken.”
“Lamb’s perfect,” said Daniel as Cherry glanced up at the blackboard menu. It seemed the pub only served pie. Lamb pie, and on a good day, chicken pie. The chalk also declared there was beef pie, and she wondered what had happened to that.
“Beef’s all gone,” said Ted, catching her look, and went off to get their drinks.
She looked at Daniel, but he seemed to be charmed by the place and Ted’s no-nonsense attitude. The background Welsh lilt of the locals added to the ambiance, and the pie was delicious, and the pub toasty with that lovely intimate feeling created by the warmth of a real fire, and the rain beating against the windowpane. Out of London, Cherry felt more relaxed. She was easily more sophisticated than these surroundings and there was no need to be on constant guard or check she was maintaining Kensington standards. Daniel raised his glass and she clinked it.
“To a wonderful weekend,” he said, then paused and looked at her with something deeper than fondness, something more meaningful than affection. “To us. I’m very happy to have met you, Cherry.”
She met his eyes and smiled. That was exactly the sort of look she had hoped this trip would produce. “Likewise,” she said softly.
* * *
The rain stopped sometime in the night. Cherry had been aware of it as she’d woken, uncomfortable and irritated by the mattress that sank in the middle. It was pitch black, and utterly quiet outside, and the silence seemed to seep in and lie thick in the room, watching her. She got a sudden longing for home, for bright streetlights and the sound of sirens. She felt like she didn’t belong there. She had no idea of the time or how long until the alarm would wake them at seven. She lay there for what seemed like ages, staring into the darkness, listening to Daniel’s soft breathing beside her. She felt very alone in that dark room for a moment and almost nudged him awake so she could snuggle in close, feel his arms around her. But just thinking about it madeher loneliness seem silly, childish; she didn’t quite know what she’d say if she woke him. She closed her eyes and willed herself back to sleep. At some point, it must have happened because the next thing she knew, an increasingly loud beeping was coming from Daniel’s phone.
Breakfast was toast, eggs, and marmalade, the pub this time only populated by the half-dozen or so of the younger clientele from the night before. Then they drove the short distance to the rafting company’s HQ, where a purpose-built stone building housed the equipment, changing rooms, and a small cafe. As they walked through the muddy parking lot, awash with puddles from the rain, to register and find their guide, they saw a large sign outside the HQ building:TODAY’S WATER: GRADE 4.
“That’s pretty fast,” said Daniel, and Cherry felt a stab of nerves. She, unlike Daniel, who’d taken on rapids in Colorado, had never been white-water rafting before.
A young man, with sun-bleached hair and a clipboard, stood outside the building, welcoming people. He was dressed in a wet suit, one that looked like it was expensive and professional; together with his outdoorsy hair, speaking of months on the river, it emphasized her own ineptitude. She didn’t like the feeling of the unknown, of something she had no control over, and had been unable to research or test first. They were checked off and then went into separate changing rooms to get fitted for wet suits, buoyancy aids, and helmets. Cherry didn’t talk to the other giggling girls who were in there, squeezing their bodies into neoprene. She got dressed and locked her things away and then went outside, carrying her helmet. Daniel was already there, with another couple and the outdoors hair guy, who’d ditched the clipboard. Once she arrived, their group was complete.
“Hi,” said their guide, “now we’re all together, we’ll do some introductions and then I’ll go through the safety briefing. I’m Gareth.. . .” He smiled through his beard and indicated that Cherry should go next.
“Cherry,” she said, waving, and then it was Daniel, and next the couple were Jane and Paul from Bristol.She looks like an accountsclerk,thought Cherry,safe and slightly dowdy, and he, like someone who works for the local council.
