Out on the Hills

I walked slowly through the doors, the sickening smell of antibacterial spray mixed with over-cooked porridge making me feel like turning and running as fast as I could the other way. I didn’t want to be here. I could think of a million other better things to do and places to be than here.

“Right, guys. I want the staff to see the kind, hard-working kids you lot are, alright? This is a restful, gentle place, and I want you to keep it that way. Are we all here?” Miss Jones counted under her breath, her head bobbing slightly as she scanned the waiting teenagers in the entrance hall. “Wonderful. Right.” She turned to the receptionist.

I glanced at Beca despairingly. She frowned, shaking her head and whispering, “You could at least try to get something out of it.”

I scowled, opening my mouth to reply, then closing it abruptly as Miss Jones glanced round, pointing to a large sitting room leading off from the hall. “Right, we’re going in there to meet the staff. Come on.”

“Bore da!” The high-pitched voice of the senior nurse rang unpleasantly in my ears as she greeted us. An early morning was never a good morning. “My name is Nurse Cadogan. This is Nurse West and Nurse Ellis. We’ll be instructing and supervising you today.” Nurses West and Ellis were about as different as they could get - Nurse West was a tiny little black-haired woman with a sharp, suspicious look in her eyes as she nodded severely. Nurse Ellis, on the other hand, was a large, gentle giant type, with fluffy brown hair and a sense of restrained enthusiasm and excitement about him.

“We’re excited to have you guys here today. The residents are very anxious to meet you all and talk to you today, so do please stop to have a bit of a chat as you go. We won’t tick you off for it, I promise.” She laughed suddenly, much more than the feeble joke had earned, and I resisted the urge to cover my ears, flinching a little.

“Right, well, if we’re all ready, let’s get started, shall we? First thing on the list is to tidy up the communal areas while the residents are served breakfast. Let’s have one group in here, and the other in the conservatory.” She counted out a group of three, then sent them off with Nurse West. I didn’t envy them. West looked the type to go up in smoke if so much as a speck of dust was left on an armchair.

“You with the red headband, what’s your name? Beca? Alright, Beca, you start with organising the coffee tables. And gloomy over here, what’s your name?” She stepped over to me, laughing again. Miss Jones shot me a freezing look, and I tried to brighten up a little. “Ffion.”

“Oh, that’s my sister’s name!” Nurse Ellis broke in, a wide grin on his oddly boyish face. Nurse Cadogan glanced at him, and he subsided. “Right, Ffion, you can collect all the magazines and put them back into the holder over there by the TV. In alphabetical order, as well. Makes it easier for the residents to find the one they want.” She moved onto the other boy, and I got to work, sighing a little, just quiet enough that Miss Jones wouldn’t hear.

At long last, the room was finished. “Great job, guys. The residents are going to love this.” Nurse Cadogan stood back, hands on her hips as she surveyed our work. “Nurse Ellis, can you go and see how the other group is getting on, and if they’re done, we can start the tour now that breakfast is done.”

The tall nurse disappeared out of the room, and I walked over to Beca. She was looking decidedly less positive. “Are they just going to use us as slaves all day?” Miss Jones scowled at us. “Be pleasant, girls. I can hear you complaining over there.” I turned away, rolling my eyes. “This is going to be the longest day ever.”

After lunch, we were released into the big conservatory that looked out onto the surrounding hills to socialise with the residents. Beca was claimed by a trio of cosy-looking knitters, and I was left standing awkwardly in the corner of the room, hoping to go unnoticed as Miss Jones chatted with Nurse Ellis.

“You’re a quiet one, you are.”

I jumped. The dozing old woman in the armchair next to me had woken up, her pale blue eyes boring into me unnervingly. She had an air of cynicism and coldness about her, quite different from the other, more cheery residents. “Well? Y’ have a tongue in your head, girl?”

“Y-yes.” I stuttered, taken completely by surprise, and not a little disturbed. She cackled slightly, evidently pleased with my nervousness. “Sensible child. Y’ see I’m not to be trifled with, don’t you? I’ve thoughts in my head as would make y’ scream, they would, love.” She cackled again, louder and more crow-like. I was getting creeped out, stepping back slightly. She didn’t seem to notice, nodding at the nurses and continuing, “That lot’ll never understand. They think I’m a batty old hag to be humoured and chuckled at. But y’ see what I am, child.”

Her icy eyes turned on me again. I felt strangely drawn, despite my instincts telling me to walk away. There was something so chilling yet compelling about this strange woman and her cryptic, sinister words. “What’s your name?” I asked, still cautious, but feeling a burning curiosity building up inside me.

“My name is Mari Evans.” Her tone was proud and defiant, as if she was proving herself to some unknown entity that had dared to doubt her. “You’re Ffion, aren’t you, child? Mabli Davies’ granddaughter.”

My eyes widened. “Yes. You knew my grandmother?” Mari laughed, gentler and sweeter this time. “Of course, bless you. Everyone knew Mabli Davies - Mabli Morgan she was back then. The pride and joy of Brynllewyth. Never a sweeter girl in the whole of Wales. Y’ taid knew how lucky he was to get her.”

“Oh. I never knew that.” I pulled up a chair. “My dad never talks about his parents.” Mari tapped the side of her nose cunningly, her blue eyes sparkling. “Well, y’ see, there was a tragedy, there was. Y’ nain had a dear friend called Elin, who ran away with her sweetheart when she was just a girl. It caused a great scandal when they were found out. They say Elin’s mam died of a broken heart. Anyway, about a year later, y’ nain went after them. She found that the sweetheart had up and left, and Elin was living on the streets of London with her baby girl.”

I caught my breath. “Oh, that’s horrible. Poor girl.” Mari tutted unsympathetically. “Well, it was no one’s fault but her own, it was, the silly girl. Y’ nain brought her back and she lived with her father. The child was taken in by the Price family. Don’t know why - y’d’ve thought they’d got enough of their own already.” She chuckled again, shaking her head. “Well, love, it’s a funny old world, after all.”

I wasn’t ready for the story to end. “And Elin? What happened to her? Did her sweetheart ever come back?” Mari made no response, gazing through the glass at the grassy hills rolling away into the distance and murmuring quietly to herself. I sat there silent, waiting.

Suddenly, she turned to me with a smile, the first real smile I had seen from her in all the time we had been making conversation. “Y’ know, love, I quite like you, I do. You’re a good listener. Just what an old rambler like myself needs.” She reached out, patting my hand gently. “I’m sorry if I scared you, love. Going a little batty in my old age, I am. Being stuck in here doesn’t help, either.” Her eyes were softer now, reminding me more of a summer sky than cold ice. “No one has time to listen to an old woman talking herself into her grave.”

“I have time.” I blurted the words out, not even really thinking about them before I spoke. But once they were out, I realised that I really meant them. Mari seemed surprised by my eagerness. “Oh, that’s very kind of you, love. But you’re a busy young lady. I don’t want an old hag like me to take up your precious attention with my silly tales.”

“No, really - I have time. I want to hear more.” I pressed my hand gently over hers, trying to make her understand. “You said I was a good listener. And I want to listen, I promise.” She looked a little amused, nodding soothingly. “Oh, bless you. Just like Mabli was. Well, if y’ really want to listen, then I suppose I can find a tale or two worth telling.” “I’d love that. I really would. But tell me what happened to Elin first - please.” I gazed at her expectantly as she sighed, tilting her head a little and nodding. “Well, she came back with her baby. And not a week later, her father died of a heart attack.” “Oh, poor Elin. That really is a tragedy.” “Oh, bless you, that’s not the real tragedy. That came much later, once the baby was about your age. Ceri, her name was. Well, you see, what happened was -”

“Alright, everyone!” The ear-splitting tones of Nurse Cadogan rang out through the conservatory, and we both flinched. Mari muttered something rude under her breath. “Can’t stand that woman, I can’t. What have we got to be cheerful about, holed up in this -?” She broke off, glancing at me. “You’d better go, love. I’ll tell you the rest another time. If you get a minute, that is, of course.” With a last gentle smile, she waved me away, turning to gaze out of the window again. A knowing smile played around her lips as she chuckled quietly to herself.

Beca caught hold of my arm as we walked out of the conservatory. “You were chatting away to that old woman. What were you two talking so much about?” I hesitated. Somehow, although I had initially felt intimidated and creeped out by Mari, I felt a growing fondness for her odd manner and passion for storytelling. And I wasn’t sure if I was ready to let others into my glimpse of the secret world hiding behind those pale blue eyes, that seemed to see right into your very soul.

“Nothing much. She was just talking about her childhood and...stuff.” I kept my voice low, glancing back at Mari to make sure she hadn’t heard. She was still staring out at the rolling hills, her lips moving in a silent whisper meant for her ears only. I couldn’t help but wonder what hidden memories entranced her so much.

What was the real tragedy in the story of Elin and Ceri? The connection to my own grandmother both surprised and fascinated me. How come Dad or Taid had never mentioned Elin to me, if she was such a dear friend of Nain’s? Taid was a silent man, but he had loved my Nain and everything connected to her with all his heart, right until the day she died. And Dad was always going on about family history and keeping records of stories and memories. It was him who gifted me my first journal, telling me to write down everything I could, no matter how small or insignificant it seemed. I made up my mind to ask him about Elin the first chance I got.

As we walked past the conservatory doors on the way out at the end of the day, I caught a last glimpse of Mari in her armchair by the window, dozing off again. She looked so small and frail, her white hair glinting in the bright sunlight, her dainty pale yellow tracksuit swallowed up in the busy floral pattern of the chair. I felt a rush of excitement as I thought of the stories she might have to tell me, the tales she kept hidden in that wise old mind of hers.

I left the nursing home a changed girl, joyfully looking forward to the next time I would have a chance to sit in my seat by Mari’s side in the airy conservatory, with the great green hills sweeping round us, listening as she spoke about places and people lost long ago, bringing them back to life before my eager eyes.