‘Her fancy bloody man,’ Sarah said, and she rushed back to the kitchen. Tegid put the money in his pocket, and gave it a good pat.
Mrs Gandell meanwhile shot round corners and when she reached Cartref went straight to her room, and unlocked the top drawer of the bureau, and took from it the unopened letters from Mr Griffith. It was as though a flash of the sun came put of each one. ‘Fancy my not opening them. I was so certain. The relief! The relief.’
She went straight to the cupboard and got herself a drink and sat down. ‘I wonder why he thinks I’d sell.’
She heard Jones return. ‘I’m up here, Jones.’
‘Coming, Mrs Gandell.’
‘Ah! You got them.’
‘Yes, Mrs Gandell,’ and he opened the parcel and took the sheets to her, and stood waiting whilst she examined them.
‘No trouble there,’ she said, handing back the sheets. ‘Put them in the room.’
When he returned she told him to get himself a drink.
‘Thanks, Mrs Gandell,’ and she smiled, and said, ‘Tut, tut.’
‘Davies was very nice about it, Mrs Gandell,’ and Jones sat down.
‘The Davies people are always nice,’ she said.
And only then did he notice she was dressed to go out.
‘Going out?’
‘I’ve been out, Jones.’
‘Have you?’
‘I went to The Lion and settled the account there.’
‘Did you?’ The Jones eyebrows went up. ‘Oh, I am glad, Mrs Gandell.’
‘I saw Mr Griffith,’ she said.
It astounded Jones. He stared at her, mouth half open, and then exclaimed, ‘Saw Griffith. You mean the bank? What happened?’
She nodded. ‘We’re all right, Jones,’ she said.
‘All right? You mean … he’ll let you .…’
‘Nothing to do with that, Jones. Quite another matter altogether.’
He crossed the room immediately, stood over her. ‘What matter?’
‘He asked me if I’d care to sell the hotel?’
‘Sell? Oh no. Christ no, you’re not going to sell, Mrs Gandell, you said you wouldn’t, you promised .…’
‘Here,’ she said, handing him her glass, and she saw his hand shake as he took it. It shook more violently as he returned it to her, and she said irritably, ‘Careful, Jones, careful.’
‘Sorry, Mrs Gandell.’
‘There’s some talk of The Palms being turned into an hotel, Jones.’
‘The Palms.’
‘Yes.’
‘It’s falling to pieces, Mrs Gandell,’ Jones said, and then he dropped his glass, seemed unaware of it as suddenly he knelt down, took her hand, said, ‘You wouldn’t sell, Mrs Gandell, you wouldn’t .…’
‘I wouldn’t know what to do without you, Jones,’ she said, and gave his hand a squeeze. ‘If I took you back to Yorkshire, the wind would blow you back to Wales. No, Jones, I said I wouldn’t sell, and I won’t.’
There was no need for Jones to speak, for in his face she read the message, the familiar words. ‘Wouldn’t know what to do, Mrs Gandell, if you left here, left me .…’
‘It’s all right, Jones.’
‘Iesu Grist,’ he said, ‘for one awful moment I thought it wasn’t.’
‘There’s nothing else to get closer to, Jones.’
‘No, Mrs Gandell,’ he said, stroking again, and at last the smile.
‘I am glad,’ he said, ‘oh, I am glad, Mrs Gandell,’ and hugged her.
She pushed him away, got up and removed coat and hat. ‘Come along, Jones,’ she said, and everything was normal again, and he followed her out. In the kitchen he took her hand again.
