Three Years, Five Months and Eleven Days

Chapter Two

This one is dedicated to spidermonkeyreader for being the first to tell me she loved it, and giving me the courage to upload again so soon.

 The picture on the side is of the costal path near St David's. It's not the exact spot they go to, but pretty near.

If you're reading this I would love you to comment (positive or negative is welcomed!) because I always really want to know what people think. Voting would also be much appreciated. 

Anyway, on with the show!

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      It took two and a half hours to get from Cardiff to St David’s, but we made it. Good timing too, because I was peckish and ready to do some snacking.

     ‘I think I’ll just call my mum,’ Michael said, sliding his iPhone out of his jeans pocket. ‘Tell her I’m here, or else she’ll worry non-stop.’

     ‘No point even trying,’ I warned him, grinning. ‘You won’t get any signal here.’

     ‘None?’

     I shook my head. ‘Not near Beth’s house. Do the five-minute walk into St David’s and you’ll get plenty.’

     ‘Just use my home phone,’ Beth told him, pushing the door to her house open. We followed her into the small hallway that was the entrance to her house. Directly in front of us was the staircase leading to the guest room, to our left the door leading to the rest of the house. Beth took us first into the living room, where her mum, Dee, was waiting for us.

     ‘You took longer than I thought you would,’ she told us, standing up to hug Beth, then me.

     ‘Beth got the time wrong,’ I explained. Dee smiled and shook her head, then went over to Michael, who was waiting awkwardly by his suitcase.

     ‘Good to see you again Mrs. Jones,’ Michael said.

     Dee laughed. ‘You too, Mr. Williams,’ she joked.

     Michael looked a little embarrassed. ‘I take it that means you want me to call you Dee then?’ he asked.

     ‘Only if you want me to call you Michael,’ Dee replied.

     Michael did a little awkward laugh and Beth took him by the arm saying ‘Come on, I’ll show you your room.’

     As they made their way upstairs, I headed towards the kitchen, with Dee following me.

     I opened the fridge, looking for food and Dee asked ‘Was I a little harsh on him?’

    ‘Not at all,’ I reassured her. ‘You just made him feel silly and a bit embarrassed, he’ll recover, he’s a big boy.’

     ‘Good, I was just trying to be friendly,’ she said. ‘But he just looked so uncomfortable.’

     ‘He hasn’t seen you since he was ten,’ I told her. ‘And now he’s staying in your house for eight weeks. He’s got to be finding that a bit weird.’

     I stopped looking through the fridge and turned to Dee grinning cheekily. ‘I don’t know what to eat.’ She laughed and started busying herself making a snack, while I hoisted myself onto the counter and watched her.

     She was the perfect mother. She was forty-nine and didn’t try and act half her age (something my mother did and I hated), she worked and still had time to be there for her daughter, she loved to cook for her, spoil her and had still managed to raise her to be a decent, helpful and thoughtful human being. She tried not to embarrass her too often, but was capable of being the strict mother and saying no when necessary.