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withered away and shrunk underground. Alys thought the time for him to emerge from the hard soil to bloom and thrive again was long overdue.
    ‘But you’ve already been here a month, Kitty,’ she said, willing her husband to join in. ‘It’s lovely for your dad and me to have you here, but it’s not going to do wonders for your career, is it?’
    Alys was beginning to run out of patience. Huw was becoming so introverted that at this rate he wasn’t even going to notice that Kitty was having a baby until she went into labour. Since her daughter had gone to live in Cardiff in September, she guessed that they only had until June or July to get their heads round the idea. She looked from one to the other and waited to see if Kitty would finally give in and admit that she wasn’t planning to return to work any time soon.
    ‘I’m getting a bit of work experience with Coralie,’ Kitty said, making big sad eyes at her father.
    ‘Uh-huh. And how are you going to support yourself on that?’ Not to mention the baby , she was sorely tempted to add. Kitty, as Alys bet to herself she would, managed to squeeze out a few tears. ‘Are you saying I’m not welcome? Most parents would be glad to have their daughter home. Wouldn’t they, Dad?’
    ‘What?’ said Huw.
    ‘It’s called tough love,’ said Alys, trying not to lose her rag. ‘You’re twenty-two years old and you haven’t stuck at anything yet. You can’t be an adolescent forever. At some point you’re going to have to decide what you want to do with your life.’
    ‘Fine,’ said Kitty, pushing her plate away as she had done when she was a toddler. ‘If you don’t want me here, I’ll move into the holiday cottage out of your way.’
    Alys shook her head, ‘I’m sorry, Kitty, but that’s not possible. I’ve just let it out to a paying customer. We’ve got to pull together and bring in the money where we can.’
    Huw brightened up. ‘Oh, fair play to you, cariad . Where did you find a holidaymaker at this time of year?’
    ‘I didn’t,’ Alys said. ‘He found us, but he’s not exactly a holidaymaker. It’s Gethin Lewis. He was planning to stay at Gwyn’s old place, but there’s been a burst pipe and it’s uninhabitable so I said he could rent the cottage whilst he sorts out what needs to be done.’
    ‘I suppose he’s come back to get shot of the place, has he?’ said Huw, stabbing a mushroom. ‘I mean, if Gethin Lewis could barely be bothered to come near the village whilst his father was alive, he’s not going to hang on to the cottage now his father’s gone, is he?’
    ‘It wasn’t as simple as that, you know. He must have had his reasons. Look how busy he’s been for a start; crucial exhibitions, interviews.’ She sought in vain for Huw’s face against the glare of the pendant light. ‘Gwyn was a hard man. He liked everyone to dance to his tune. Maybe Gethin needed to put himself first at some point.’
    ‘Selfish,’ said Huw. ‘Like too many people today, putting their own pleasure first.’
    ‘Not so selfish,’ Alys said, sharply. ‘He did the right thing by his father when it counted. He couldn’t have found a better nursing home for Gwyn, the finest in Pembrokeshire. Anything he needed, Gethin saw that he had it.’
    ‘Anything except his time!’ Huw observed crossly. ‘He could have helped put his father’s cottage right sooner.’
    ‘Do you really think so?’ she asked. ‘Can you imagine Gwyn welcoming a raft of renovations? Do you think he would have agreed to a travertine-tiled bathroom? Or a Shaker-style kitchen? You know how careful he was. He would have seen any attempt to modernise the cottage as a complete waste of money. Lord knows he only accepted help from Gethin when he was too feeble to refuse.’
    And he drove a hard bargain. Goodness knows she and Huw had had to pay the full price when they bought the old farmhouse from him, together with the swathe of land that hadn’t been sold for grazing.