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

would flow from the magic of their being together.
    Daydreams are not subject to timetables. The time that he feared would be tedious had flown past. He needed to hasten to arrivals and occupy a conspicuous position at the barrier so that she could catch sight of him as soon as she emerged. He breathed fresh life into the red carnation. He was confident she would recognise him. The flower in his button hole was a gesture of celebration.
    The flow of late arrivals began. Some of them looked like survivors who were eager to start living again. Late as they were, there remained a plentiful supply of nearest and dearest waiting to greet them. Celebrations and reunions were in the air. It was a woman in a wheelchair who was the first to recognise him. The airport vehicle in which she sat was being steered by a young woman with a pale face, jet black hair and thick eyebrows. The woman in the chair looked cheerful enough and was pointing at him. It was only when they were close that he realised he was being confronted by Glenys.
    â€˜I would have known you anywhere,’ she said. ‘I bet people keep on telling you you haven’t changed a bit.’
    Her hand when he clasped it was thin and cold. He wondered whether he should kiss her on the cheek; and who was the younger woman.
    â€˜This is Monique,’ Glenys said. ‘She’s a Berber. She doesn’t speak much English. And not a word of Welsh.’
    Glenys stood up and took hold of Henry’s arm while Monique disposed of the chair.
    â€˜Monique is wonderful,’ she said. ‘She smokes like a chimney, and I’m the one that’s got cancer. And I’ve never smoked in my life. There you are. One more of life’s little ironies. Where can we get a decent bite to eat? Such a shame that damn plane was late. We won’t have much time to talk.’ 
    However little English the Berber woman spoke, she knew her way about airports. She found a lift, which transported them to a lounge which Henry had known nothing about, and within minutes they were ensconced in comfortable armchairs able to gaze at a variety of dormant aircraft through a large window. The best Henry could manage was a confused smile. He failed to say how wonderful it was to see her again. He was slow even to muster up the courage to look at Glenys closely enough to register this change in her appearance. Her skin was mottled with too much sun and her head had lost any feminine aura. With her hair cut short and dyed brown, it looked stern and severe. It made him uncomfortably aware of his own shortcomings even though she was smiling at him. Her lips were thinner but her voice was mercifully the same and he clung to that. Her voice after all was the source of a haunting music he had heard all his life. 
    â€˜This cancer… ’
    At last he managed to address the subject.
    â€˜Don’t worry, Henry. They say it’s curable. We shall have to see. At least I can eat cream cakes.’
    Monique had laid the tempting plate before them and she was smiling her approval as she sipped her coffee.
    â€˜I don’t know how long we’ve got,’ Glenys said. ‘We are in transit.’
    â€˜In transit?’
    He heard the dull simplicity in his voice as he repeated the phrase.
    â€˜To Switzerland. For treatment. I don’t know how long we’ve got. To live I mean. How old are you now Henry?’
    â€˜I’ll be seventy-seven next birthday.’
    â€˜Of course you will. And I’d bet you’ll live to be a hundred.You are just the type.’
    She smiled as she said it.
    â€˜In any case I had to see you. And I’ve brought you a present.’
    Monique opened the briefcase she was carrying and handed Glenys her cheque book. Glenys tore out a cheque already made out to Dr Henry Davies.
    â€˜There you are, Henry dear. All the money I owe you for my education. Plus a bit extra for Christmas.’
    Henry looked humbled and confused.