The Woman at the Window by Emyr Humphreys Read Free Book Online

flat?’ He smiled and raised his hand to excuse himself from such self-indulgent folly.
    â€˜Don’t tell me! I’m not getting any younger. I’m thinking of moving. Really. I have it firmly in mind.’
    â€˜Good. I tell you what…’
    She clasped her plump hands together and leaned closer over the table.
    â€˜Awelon y Môr.’
    She gave the name as if it was confidential information. 
    â€˜Brilliant idea. Garden cottages connected up by covered  ways with a central block with a restaurant and a club room and all that sort of thing. You still play bridge don’t you?’
    â€˜As badly as ever,’ he said.
    â€˜Nonsense. You were jolly good. They’ve got a keen bridge club there. Then there’s golf virtually round the corner. And I don’t live so far away, if that doesn’t put you off! I think there may be one going vacant next month. Would you like me to put your name down?’
    His mouth hung open as he attempted to frame a suitable reply. Mattie was quick to respond.
    â€˜You’re not keen,’ she said. ‘It’s not that…
    â€˜You’re a bit of a Fabius Maximus, aren’t you?’ she said. ‘Delay and all that. Never do today what you can possibly put off till tomorrow.’
    This was an old joke between them: and they had their interest in ancient history in common. He smiled and nodded and she took it as an invitation to greater frankness. 
    â€˜It’s a wonderful view and all that but I remember you saying the people downstairs were beginning to get on your nerves. And wasn’t there some talk of them taking in refugees..?’
    An unintelligible blare on the airport speaker systems caused her sudden alarm.
    â€˜Oh, my God… what time is it?’
    She began to rummage in her large handbag looking for her spectacles and a small notebook. She scribbled the address of the Awelon y Môr complex with her own telephone number before tearing it out and handing it to him.
    â€˜You are just the type they would welcome with open arms,’ she said. ‘Let’s keep in touch. I’ve got to fly.’
    â€˜Of course, Mattie. Of course.’
    No longer under surveillance, he was ready to be effusively cordial. He folded the paper, showing gratitude, and stored it in his waistcoat pocket. They waved at each other as she made cautious haste from the sheltered area where they had been sitting. He watched her disappear in the crowded concourse and somehow the world became alive with new possibilities. Anything could happen outside the discipline of inward debates. The most romantic reveries could be transformed into acceptable reality. Here he was, unencumbered and free to comply with anything Glenys suggested. It might even be that she was still inclined to please him. Not as in the old days of course. That was long ago. But there was time left for a new beginning.
    He conjured up the delightful images of the young girl that had lived with him so long. He saw her being sculpted gradually by the gentle hand of time: decade by decade growing old gracefully. And what would she be now? An athletic figure, he was confident of that, in her sixties, with some grey hair perhaps but still that same enchanting smile. That could hardly change, anymore than that distant voice on the telephone that had briefly enthralled and thrilled him. ‘You sound exactly the same,’ he blustered out with boyish enthusiasm. He could have gone on at length but it was only a brief call.
    What would they do? What steps would they take to achieve a new way of life, inspired perhaps by the joy they once had in each other? He felt like a man prepared to grapple with the future and take it in his arms. He could move lock, stock and barrel to Portugal, or Glenys could return to Wales. They could share a home together anywhere in the world she fancied. Money was no problem. There were no ties. Everything in the new order