The Waiting Room

Rhiannon Morgan hurried to open the front door of her homely cottage in answer to the persistent knocking. Her home was in a rural position of St David’s, the smallest Cathedral in Wales, and within easy walking distance to the white sand beaches.

Gethin Williams hugged her exuberantly. “Cariad, bore da. Are you ready to have fun? Today is a special day in the Welsh calendar celebrating the Patron Saint of Wales, St David.”

Rhiannon laughed as she went to the foot of the stairs shouting to the girls. “Come on girls, Gethin’s here. He’s come to tell us what day it is.”

Her daughters, Meghan and Jennifer raced eagerly down the stairs. Jennifer, the youngest by three years, gave a twirl. “Hooray, it’s St David’s day. Do we look good in our costumes?”

The girls were wearing, a red and white striped flannel petticoat under a red flannel open fronted nightgown, a white blouse and a skirt made of wool with a check pattern in black and white, with an starched white apron and small red flannel shawl and a red cloak with a tall black hat made of hard board, over a frilled white bonnet.

“Are we traditional, is that the right word?” asked Meghan.

Rhiannon smiled. “That’s right, it’s a traditional Welsh costume. You look wonderful,” she said with a catch in her voice. “Daddy would have been proud of his girls.”

“Are you going to wear your shawl Mum. You said you would.”

“I will,” she said. “It will help to keep me warm. There’s a cold wind today but the sun is shining. Have you put your woollen jumper on underneath your costumes?”

“Yes Mum.”

Rhiannon placed her paisley shawl around shoulders. “Lead the way girls we have to walk into St David’s and it’s getting late. Mam and Dad will wonder where we’ve got to.”

Rhiannon had been doubtful about returning to Wales after the sudden death of her husband Charlie in a fishing accident at work. She was persuaded by her parents that coming back home was the best thing to do.

Both sets of grandparents lived in St David’s. The girls had only ever lived in England, in Whitby, Yorkshire, so this was a complete change for them. The only Welsh thing about them is their names.

Gethin said, “Before we go I want to find out how much you know about our Patron Saint. Who was he? Why do we celebrate his death? What.....”

“Oh stop it Uncle Gethin, it’s like being at school and it is Saturday as well as being St David’s Day, so there’s no school today. Let’s go and find the festivities.”

They wrapped up against the March wind, however the sky was blue with wispy white clouds and the sun was shining, so it was a lovely day for an outing.

As they reached the outskirts the girls spotted their grandparents in the distance.

“Can we run down the road to Mam-gu? Please Mum.”

“Yes you can, but don’t get lost.”

“We won’t,” called the girls as they ran off down the road.

Gethin took Rhiannon’s hand, “Have you thought anymore about my question Cariad?”

“Oh Gethin, don’t ask me today. Can’t we enjoy the celebrations and leave this until another time?”

She loosened her hand and ran after Meghan and Jennifer, quickly catching up with her mother and father. “Mam bore da. Bore da Dad.” Myfanwy Hughes gave her daughter a hug.

“Rhiannon, good morning. How are you today? Did Gethin ask you to marry him again? I saw you running down the road away from him. Why don’t you answer his question? You’re still got your whole life in front of you, the girls need a father, they’re still very young, and so are you for that matter. I know you don’t want to hear it but someone has to say it. Charlie’s dead. Yes, you loved him very much but he wouldn’t want you to mourn him forever, he’d want you to meet someone else, besides he really liked Gethin. You did all grow up together.”

Myfanwy took hold of her granddaughter’s hands. “Don’t you both look grand today and very Welsh.” Both girls wriggled with pleasure at praise from their grandmother, grinning from ear to ear. Leaving the others to walk on, Rhiannon wandered off on her own, her mind full of her mother’s comments. She knew she must answer Gethin. It wasn’t fair to keep him waiting, she happened to know that Olwen Thomas would be happy to hear that Gethin was still available, she’d always had a soft spot for him even when they were five or six.

Rhiannon, her thoughts drifting from one thing to another, should she marry Gethin, did the girls really need a father, they were old enough to remember their own father, and they didn’t need another father, did they?

Owen Hughes hadn’t said anything to her but she knew her dad; he would be thinking, she had a lifetime ahead. It is the sensible thing to do, but sense didn’t always lend a hand.

She hadn’t realised how far she’d walked until she’d come to her favourite place, she came here often as a teenager, if she couldn’t be found everybody knew this was the place to find her. This was the place where she made all her important decisions.

This was the place where Charlie asked her to marry him and she had said yes with no hesitation. She had loved him with all her heart and she wasn’t sure her heart was mended enough to marry Gethin.

Do I love Gethin? Yes without a doubt, she’d always loved him almost as much as she loved Charlie. What was stopping her from saying yes? She wandered a little further remembering the story she had been so excited about writing; the shipwreck of the paddle steamer Nimrod of County Cork in Ireland.

The Nimrod left Beamaris Bay steaming for Cork when her engines broke down so Captain Lyall ordered the sails hoisted and later refused help from Captain Pearn of the City of Paris who offered to tow the Nimrod which was fully sailed and hoped to reach Milford Haven.

Rhiannon wracked her brain for the date of the shipwreck, she’d written plenty of notes at the time. Yes that was it. It was the same as Grandma’s birthday, the end of February 1860, not Grandma the ship, with south westerly force winds and enormous waves her sails in shreds she was driven past dangerous rocks towards three hundred foot cliffs at St David’s Head.

Everyone who came to help thought they were saved but it was not to be. The ship struck the cliffs at Port Llong and broke up. There were no survivors. Rhiannon wiped a tear from her cheek remembering how sad she felt when she first heard the story. She stood for a few more minutes on the top of the cliffs imagining the horror of the people both on the ship and on the cliff top unable to assist.

Hearing a voice she glanced around her but could see no one. Marry Gethin he’s a good man, he will take care of you and my little girls. It was Charlie, the voice she heard like an echo in the wind; it was Charlie’s voice telling her to marry Gethin, his best friend. It was here that Gethin found her deep in thought.

“Rhiannon, Rhiannon,” Gethin touched her hand feeling her jump in surprise. “Sorry, I was miles away thinking about the shipwreck of the Nimrod.”

“Oh not that again I thought you’d forgotten that years ago,” Gethin laughed.

“I had but coming here reminded me, it reminded me of Charlie too.”

Gethin frowned.

“Ask me the question again Gethin.”

“The question?” Gethin suddenly enlightened, dropped quickly to one knee looking up at Rhiannon he took her hand.

“Will you marry me Rhiannon? I love you. I always have.”

“Yes, yes, yes! I will marry you Gethin; I don’t know why I was hesitating. The girls love you, so do my Mam and Dad, and so do Charlie’s family.”

Gethin put his hands on her waist and swung her round until they were both breathless.

“Oh Gethin I do love you.”

He squeezed her hand “Come on we’d better hurry back we’ve missed the parade but we’ll be back in time for the Cawl Myfanwy has made.”

Myfanwy looked up as they came in, her spoon in her hand ready to enjoy her favourite dish; she had finished serving the steaming cawl. Sighing, she said, “Pass me two more dishes and join us at the table.

Watching her daughter carefully she saw the silly smile on her face. “Is there anything you and Gethin want to share with us Rhiannon?”

Rhiannon beamed at Gethin and glanced at the baffled faces around the table, she said, “We could make them wait until we finish celebrating St. David’s Day, or we could tell them.” Gethin took Rhiannon’s hand in his own, and gazed into her eyes before looking at everyone around the table.

“Rhiannon has graciously agreed to become my wife.” Meghan and Jennifer leapt up from the table to hug their mother and Gethin. Myfanwy squeezed her daughter’s hand and said quietly, “I’m so glad you decided to marry Gethin, he’s a lovely man and he’ll make a lovely dad.”

The clatter of congratulations was so loud no one heard the last part of his sentence. After sharing the scrumptious meal prepared by Myfanwy and her large extended family everyone wandered back into Wales’s smallest city in little groups. Telling anyone who was listening their wonderful news.

Entering into the spirit they intended to enjoy the rest of the celebrations, joining in with the Welsh dancing and singing and reciting Welsh poems. Myfanwy held her granddaughter’s hands as they danced and sang.

Rhiannon breathed deeply she had made one of the most important decisions she had ever made and it wasn’t only for her. Glancing over at Meghan and Jennifer laughing and giggling with her mother and Gethin; she knew deep down she had made the right decision. She caught Gethin’s eye blowing him a kiss and receiving one back.

She said more to herself than anyone else “What a lovely special day. Dydd Gwyl Dewi Hapus! Happy St David’s Day!” It was indeed a lovely special day.

- THE END -