Chapters (50)
Efa and her husband had themselves tried for children and their failure had turned to sadness, and sadness to silence. When Joseph and Nefyn’s father drowned, and with their mother already gone, she sought to do then what made sense to her: to think about their well-being. Joseph had his father’s strength, the kind of resilience that came when you lived somewhere where the trees stayed small and leant away from the wind. It was Nefyn she worried about. She was a strange thing, beautiful in her own way but reserved. She wouldn’t speak when she was small, spent all her time in the cove. As she grew, she withdrew more and more so that nobody ever really saw her.
Efa had taken it upon herself to bring Nefyn clothes, ask about her education. She always tried to corner Joseph but, afraid of overstepping the mark, she had learnt to do only what was asked of her. Neighbours had questioned her in the past about her involvement, fearful that she was being taken advantage of, as she seemed to get so very little in return. But Efa gained someone else to think of, and for her, that was enough. Over the years, she had become more and more defensive and given terse replies so that now, people very rarely asked.
Efa remembered seeing Nefyn once, on one of her own long walks along the coast, when it was safe to leave Emrys alone. The girl was waist-deep in water, looking into the distance, completely still. The current swirling around her. Birds tumbling overhead. Efa stopped, her heart leaping, out of breath. Nefyn hadn’t noticed that anyone was there and she stood, her back against the cove, as if she were listening. Listening to something that Efa could not hear. She wondered whether she should shout but she didn’t. She just watched her, her dark hair moving on her shoulders, her slight figure feeling the force of the sea, before slowly turning for home.
Efa waited by the door. Felt the wind pulling at her. She had placed a warm cardigan in with the food she had bought. Something she had knitted from an emerald-green wool flecked with wisps of blue. Joseph would give her money for food, of course, but she would not take any for anything else. He would call the house from his lodging in the North, leave part of his wages in brown envelopes outside the cottage. It was difficult for him too, Efa knew that. He was young. They were both young. The wind whipped around her ears, and Efa felt the grip of the cold in her arthritic bones. She sighed, happier now that Nefyn would be fed at least, before turning back towards her car.