Bryneithin

© 2011, revised 2026 Bukky Del Rey

All rights reserved.

Please do not copy, repost, or reproduce this story, in whole or in part, without the author's prior written permission, except for brief quotations used in reviews or criticism.

Thank you for respecting this work and supporting original storytelling.

**********

For Bryneithin—

a house on a hill,

and a place I loved dearly.

This is a work of fiction. Although inspired by a real house in Dinas Powys, Wales, the characters, events, and story are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to actual persons or events is purely coincidental. Certain features of the house have been adapted to serve the story.

The house still stands today, now serving as a residential home for elderly people living with dementia.

**********

Welcome to Bryneithin.

This story has been close to my heart for many years, and I'm delighted to finally share this revised version with you. Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy Yewande's journey.

— Bukky Del Rey

**********

Chapter One

The arrival at Heathrow Airport filled Yewande with sadness. As she followed her mother through the busy terminal, she thought of the friends and family she had left behind in Nigeria, and a wave of homesickness swept over her. She hated her mother for doing this. She watched the immigration officer hand their passports back to her mother and smile at them to say, "Welcome to the United Kingdom." Her mother was here to begin a doctoral degree. Yewande had come as a dependant because no one else was willing to look after her. They had been abandoned by her father ever since she was two. She barely remembered him because he was hardly ever around. As they made their way towards the baggage reclaim area, she found herself thinking about him. How did it feel to have that father figure in your life? Did he even know they were standing in Heathrow Airport's Terminal Five? The terminal felt like a city in itself—so vast and bustling that she felt completely lost.

She could still recall her grandmother's spiteful words to her mother, one bright sultry afternoon when they had gone visiting at Idumota village back in Nigeria. "It was your fault, if you had not been carrying on with a married man none of this would have happened. Your daughter would not be labelled illegitimate." But her mother had never told her the truth about her father, never said anything other than he was a respectable man, but discouraged further talks about him. She twisted the gold ring with the single sapphire stud on her finger. It was all she had of her father. Her mother had given it to her as a gift from him. It had belonged to his mother whom he had lost several years ago. He had told her mother she reminded him of her once she had been born. Hence the name Yewande, which meant in Yoruba, 'The mother has returned'.

Yewande sighed and her mother looked at her warily, "What's wrong with you?" They were on the National Express Coach. Ready for the three and a half hour journey to Wales and their new home for the six years her mother would be studying. "Nothing just tired." Yewande had responded quietly, to add, "There's a chill in the air, it feels like coming out of an oven and into a fridge." Her mother had smiled and patted her hand to look out the window. Yewande had said that as a distraction, convinced that nothing she said now would change anything she surmised, biting her lower lip.

She had begged her mother to let her stay with her cousins, but her mother had blatantly refused, stating the obvious, their parents already had too many mouths to feed. Besides Yewande had a feeling her mother and her Aunt were not on the best of terms because of her.

Aunt Temilade strongly believed that her mother Biola was giving her too much freedom and not bringing her up the way she ought to. 'In a strict traditional fashion so she would grow up to be responsible.' Those were her exact words. But her mother had defended her, emphasising that she was a well brought up child. She had later coaxed Yewande, and made her understand that she would make new friends and have a good education in the UK. All that she did was so her daughter could have a better start at life than she had. Her grandparents were not well to do. Her mother had struggled growing up and had admitted to Yewande that it was her father who had sponsored her education. That was why she had stayed with him despite her family's disapproval. Now finished from University, she was intelligent enough to get a government scholarship to study for a PhD in Political Science at the Cardiff University.

It had all been carefully worked out and settled. Yewande had thought of involving her grandmother as a last resort. Perhaps she could plead on her behalf asking her mother to let her stay with her. But her grandmother had never liked her. To worsen matters, her mother had already had her enrolled into what she had called one of the best Middle schools in Cardiff. That was when she gave up trying to stay in Nigeria, and began accepting having to live in a new country. Living in Wales was not going to be a bad idea after all, she discovered upon arrival at Europe's youngest capital. Crossing the Severn bridge and into the beautiful country. There were a lot of hills, green landscapes and sheep. Cardiff had an ambient air about it and everywhere was within a walking distance. This they soon found out days later as they toured the semi ancient city with its magnificent castle and world class football stadium in the city. They were housed in student's accommodation specially designed for families and very near to the University on Park Place. It was a block of flats, all self-contained and her mother was allocated to a two bedroom on the first floor. It was all furnished with items new to Yewande, like the Dishwasher and washing machine. She was used to the other electrical equipment. The lounge was small with one leather sofa, a coffee table and television. The two rooms were small but adequate and had a shared shower and toilet. She had had to share rooms with her mother back in Lagos, so it was a delight she had her own room. No, living in Wales was not going to be bad after all.

**********

Her first day at school the following day was not so bad. She was warmly welcomed by the teachers and shown her new class and classmates in year nine. Yewande did not know what to expect even though she had been prepared for it by Mrs Patterson her Form teacher as soon as she arrived at Caerwent High. It was a Welsh and English middle school. She was to sit next to the only other African in her class called Anita who was Jamaican. She felt comfortable doing so. The teacher then introduced her to the class.

"Class this is Yewande...," darting a quick glance at her to ask, "Am I pronouncing it correctly?" Yewande nodded, so she continued, "She's fourteen years old and from Nigeria. She will be with us till graduation." Someone snickered, and Yewande glanced down nervously, for the first time feeling so conscious. Mrs Patterson reprimanded the culprit, "And can you tell me why you're snickering Cameron?" the boy cleared his throat trying to keep a straight face as he spoke, "Nothing Mrs Patterson, Corrine wanted to know if in Africa, they still lived on trees." That had the whole class giggling and Mrs Patterson calling for order. Yewande was close to tears. For the first time she looked at the boy who had made the comment. He was so fair and striking. His grey eyes stared back at her. Yewande would never forget her first day at school in Caerwent high.