Chapter 26

Well here I am at last after my long, long lay-off. I never anticipated being unable to write for so long when I wrote my last proper chapter. As I explained, someone I admire very, very much was going through a terrible time and it lasted for the best part of two years. Alongside the ordeal of being falsely accused in the way he was, he endured bereavement too, so it's been a rough time for him and everyone who feels as I do about him. Despite another recent family bereavement his life is getting back on track and I know he would want his many supporters to get on, so I am. I would like to thank you all for your long wait for me. I promise to do my utmost to make it worth it.

Since I last wrote I also stupidly wiped the flash drive the story is on. I've downloaded it fortunately and re-read what I wrote, but if you notice any continuity mess ups please point them out to me and I will do some editing.

We left Arthur poised to talk to Guinevere when I last wrote. This is really the crunch point of the story, the big moment everything has hinged on. It feels good to be writing it at last, so I won't keep you waiting. As ever, please read and review.

Gwen sat in the garden for several long minutes after Mary suddenly got to her feet and announced she was going to find John. Gwen turned everything the older woman had said over in her mind, wondering if whatever was going on with Arthur really could be sorted out by taking him out on to the hills and talking. In spite of all the talking of Gwydre they'd done since Gwen had recovered from her withdrawal from the world, she could sense a gap between her and Arthur. She had no idea when or how it had developed, although it was pretty obvious the baby's death had triggered it, but she felt it between them, a sense that there were things going on she had no idea of. It was as if Arthur had built a calm atmosphere for her when she was ill, but now she was better and she sensed the storm brewing in the air between them. Would talking really help? Gwen mused as she picked up the empty cups from the garden table beside her and rose to her feet. Well, not talking wasn't getting them anywhere, she thought decisively as she walked across the garden path and back into the house, heading for the kitchen.

Whilst Gwen was turning everything over in her mind back at the house, Arthur almost ran across the fields and through the farm. Everything John said was spinning in Arthur's mind, but the sharpest thing of all was the moment of clarity he experienced when he told John exactly what Guinevere meant to him. Suddenly it was as if a door had been opened for him and for the first time in months Arthur could see his way through to what he needed to do. When the house came in to view in front of him Arthur hesitated. Could he really do this? Could he really go in there and tell Guinevere what he had done? Could he really tell her he'd left after the baby died? Could he really say he'd gone to the lengths of applying for a divorce that was now looming ever closer on the horizon? Arthur's stomach turned slightly and his mouth went dry. His legs stilled and he stared up at the house in front of him. For a split second he desperately wanted to turn round and go back to John in the fields, fear of what might be in front of him made his heart thud loudly in his chest. Then Arthur thought once more of that moment of perfect peace when he told John how much he loved Guinevere. Taking a deep breath, Arthur started to walk towards the house. As scared as he was about whatever lay ahead, he knew exactly what he felt for Guinevere. He knew he loved her and he wanted her back properly. He was honest enough with himself to know they would probably never be as they were before the baby died, when life seemed so simple and care-free, but suddenly Arthur could see what his life would be like if he didn't do something now. He could avoid the issue as he'd been doing for months, or he could go into the house and tell Guinevere he needed to talk to her and they could have the conversation he knew now they needed to have. Leaving it now would mean he would keep Guinevere for now, but the gap that had opened between them when the baby died would still be there. Arthur wasn't stupid enough to convince himself Gwen had no idea that things weren't right between them, but what he knew now was that doing nothing about it wasn't the answer. If he did nothing it would be living a lie that would blow up in his face when the time inevitably came when he had to make a final decision about his marriage. No, Arthur pulled himself up firmly. He was going to go into that house and he was going to face whatever lay ahead, even if that meant Guinevere told him to go ahead with the divorce.

Moments later, Arthur was opening the dark green front door in front of him. He inhaled another deep breath as he stepped inside the house and quietly closed the door behind him. He wiped his feet on the doormat just inside the door. He could feel his heart as it pounded heavily in his chest. He was just about to call Guinevere's name when she appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. She was drying her hands on a red and white checked tea-towel when she looked up and smiled, although Arthur could see something in her eyes. As if she was upset or anxious.

"I thought you might be Mary." Guinevere mentally shook herself. Seeing Arthur unexpectedly early had taken her by surprise. While they'd been staying with Mary and John she'd become used to John taking Arthur out on to the farm for hours at a time. A couple of times they'd been out nearly all day and had turned up just as the sun was starting to dip behind the hills surrounding the farmland. Now it was barely lunchtime and Arthur was back? It seemed odd. "She's gone looking for John, did you see her?"

Arthur shook his head and followed Guinevere as she turned and headed back to the large kitchen at the back of the house. "No, I must have missed her." Arthur sat down at the kitchen table as Guinevere went to the sink and emptied a bowl of soapy water away before drying her hands again and hanging the tea-towel on a small hook under the sink.

Several long seconds of silence went by. Guinevere busied herself by tidying the sink area from where she'd washed up the cups she and Mary had used earlier. Then, when she couldn't put it off any longer, she turned to face Arthur.

"Arthur?"

"Guinevere?"

The two spoke simultaneously. Their eyes widened slightly at the verbal clash. Then they laughed together softly, breaking the tense atmosphere in the room a little. "We haven't done that for a while." Arthur's blue eyes sparkled with humour, but Gwen couldn't miss the hint of something sad in his tone. "We used to talk across each other all the time. Sometimes we could speak for each other too. Sometimes, when we were first married, I used to think you knew what I was thinking even before I did...Before..." He broke off abruptly, looked down at his hands for a moment, gathering himself, and then looked up again, offering Guinevere a watery smile.

Guinevere nodded and sighed. "Before Gwydre died?" She swallowed down the emotion that the mere mention of Gwydre's name still evoked. Not for the first time she wondered when talking of Gwydre would become easier, less painful, and then part of her wondered if it ever would. She looked at Arthur's face as he sat at the table and saw her pain reflected in his gaze.

Arthur faced Guinevere, her features full of the pain of losing Gwydre, and something switched inside him. They should be dealing with their pain together, not apart. They'd started to talk since Guinevere started her recovery, but Gwydre's loss and all the pain it had brought with it still lay between them like an open wound. Maybe it was time now to start the process of healing the wound, at least as much as it ever could be healed. Perhaps being honest and open now about everything that happened after the baby died would bring them to a point where they could start to face the future, whatever that future may hold. Fear still lingered in Arthur's heart. He knew very well that if Guinevere couldn't forgive him for applying for the divorce there would be no future for them, but suddenly he could see that if they could just talk honestly about what had happened to them, there might be a chance that he could explain to Guinevere why he'd left and applied for the divorce, and there might be a chance that he could explain what she meant to him and she would understand why he'd done such a stupid thing, something he knew now, even if it went no further than it had already gone, he would regret until the day he died.

"Guinevere, could we talk?" Arthur met Guinevere's gaze and told himself firmly that this was right. Whatever lay ahead, this was right. It was time. Still, his heart raced at the thought of what he needed to say and how Guinevere would react. The thought of losing her still weighed heavily in his heart.

To Arthur's surprise Guinevere nodded solemnly. "I was just about to say the same thing to you. I think we both have some things to talk about, don't you?"

Arthur sighed heavily. He was right. Gwen did know something was wrong between them. Once more he hated himself for all the time since she'd started to get better, when he could have said something about what he'd done and he'd kept her in the dark. Arthur prayed he could make her understand he hadn't done it to be spiteful or with any intention to deceive her, he'd done it because he'd had no idea what to say and because he was terrified of what saying anything might mean.

Arthur got up from the chair he'd been sitting on. It squeaked as it slid across the tiled kitchen floor. "Could we go somewhere on our own for a while...I...I just have some things I want...I need to say and I'd rather..."

"You would rather we were on our own for a bit, so we don't get interrupted by John and Mary." A wan smile appeared for a moment on Gwen's lips before disappearing in a line of nervousness.

Arthur flinched. "I didn't mean anything against John and Mary, I just..." He didn't know what else to say.

Guinevere shook her head. "I know you didn't". She sighed sadly. "I know we've got some things to talk about Arthur. I know that in spite of your best efforts to convince me otherwise, things are not right between us. I know we need to talk and I don't want to do that in front of an audience either. Mary suggested we go off into the hills for a while."

"You spoke to Mary?" Arthur tried not to sound like he was making an accusation. Still, he couldn't help feeling annoyed. Guinevere knew he valued his privacy, but she'd spoken to Mary before she'd spoken to him?

Guinevere frowned at the expression on Arthur's face and met it with a determined glare. "Are you going to tell me you haven't spoken to John since we got here, or that you haven't spoken to Gwaine or Leon since Gwydre died, because if you do I'll know you are not being honest with me Arthur, and if we are going to fix whatever it is that's gone wrong between us we need to start being honest with each other. So yes, I spoke to Mary. I didn't say anything about you, not directly, I spoke about me, about the way I feel, and it helped me, and it made me realise that we need to talk, so I'm sorry if you don't like it, but it helped me, and she suggested we go off into the hills for some peace and quiet to talk, all right?"

Feeling thoroughly put in his place, Arthur couldn't form the words to reply. Instead he nodded. Remorse for all the time he'd spent away from Guinevere gripped him again. He knew very well she was right. For months he'd had Gwaine and Leon to talk to, even if Gwaine had pushed and needled at every opportunity to make him do something about Guinevere. He'd even had Tom to talk to at times, and he was Guinevere's father. Now he'd confided in John, a man he barely knew. For months Guinevere had been virtually alone, and even if a tiny part of him felt that it was because she'd pushed him away, he couldn't really blame her for talking to Mary now.

"All right, I'm sorry." Arthur said quietly, after a moment.

The expression on Gwen's face softened. "We'll grab some food together now and drive up into the hills and have a bit of a picnic if you like," she suggested. "It's almost lunch time anyway and if John has been making you work you'll be hungry, so we could take a bit of lunch with us and find a nice spot to eat and talk, if you like?"

Arthur blinked at the change in the direction of the conversation, but the look in Guinevere's eyes told him she'd forgiven his momentary outburst and she wasn't angry with him, for now anyway. The thought of how she would feel later niggled again. He forced the thought away. "That's a great idea, we'll do that."

Gwen went to the fridge and started to get out a few things, some salad, a bit of leftover cold chicken from the meal they'd all eaten together the previous evening, and some butter that she cut an amount off and put into a small dish she'd found at the back of a cupboard. Then she got out the bread from a cupboard and cut a chunk off and wrapped it in silver foil. She found a large plastic container for the salad, chicken and butter and then she went out of the room for a second before coming back with what appeared to be a small picnic basket. Slipping the plastic box into the basket along with the wrapped bread, Gwen turned back to the fridge and grabbed some fruit, a couple of apples, a punnet of strawberries, and slipped those into the basket too.

Arthur watched as Gwen put the simple meal together. 'Will Mary be all right about us raiding her fridge and cupboards like this?" He didn't want to be thought of as taking advantage of the hospitality Mary and John had shown while they'd been staying. "Are you sure she won't mind?"

Guinevere shook her head. "No, not at all, she's told me a few times while you've been out with John that we should help ourselves. I'll leave her a note though, just to tell her what we've taken and where we'll be."

When Guinevere finished packing the picnic basket she went to the hallway and wrote a quick note on the writing pad by the phone, which stood on an elegant wrought iron stand in the middle of the room. Gwen tore off the piece of paper she used and put it in the middle of the kitchen table, where Mary would see it easily when she came in.

Gwen picked up the picnic basket while Arthur went to get his car keys from his room. "It's quite warm outside isn't it?" Gwen said when Arthur went back to the kitchen. "I don't think we need jackets or anything, so are you ready to go?"

Arthur swallowed nervously and nodded. "Ready when you are." He looked at Gwen as she picked up the picnic basket. "I'll carry that if you like."

Guinevere shook her head and smiled. "I can manage, it's really not heavy, and besides, we're only going to the car."

'Always so independent', Arthur thought to himself as he followed Guinevere out of the kitchen.

Moments later Arthur and Guinevere were on their way, driving through the quiet country roads. Guinevere looked out at the scenery around them green, fields stretched for miles, with just pretty little cottages or the odd slightly more modern home to break up the view of fields of cows and sheep chewing lazily on the grass. The sun shone down brightly from cloudless, clear blue skies, warm for the time of year, and Guinevere opened the window on her side of the car a little and inhaled the clean country air.

After about ten minutes the country around them started to change. The road started to incline a little as it rose into the hills and trees and hedges replaced the cottages and fields. They drove on, up through winding roads that twisted and turned. Peering through the trees on the roadside Gwen could make out that the fields which stretched alongside the roads near John and Mary's house, now lay below them in the valley of the hills.

Neither Arthur nor Gwen spoke on their short journey. They sat in silence, Arthur's eyes firmly on the unfamiliar roads in front of him, and Gwen taking in their surroundings, until suddenly the road opened up to a clearing in the hillside surrounded by more trees. The road surface became more uneven and gravel crunched under the wheels as Arthur found a space for the car. A couple of other cars were parked a short distance away and a middle aged man had a large stick in one hand and a dog on a lead in the other. Gwen watched the man as he started up the walkway signposted ahead.

Arthur and Guinevere got out of the car and Gwen opened one of the back passenger doors to retrieve the picnic basket from the back seat where she'd placed it when they left John and Mary's house. Once she'd got the basket Arthur clicked a button on his keys and the car locked.

"Shall we walk for a bit until we see somewhere we like?" Gwen ran a hand over her clothes which had creased a little in the car.

"We'll follow the dog walker for a bit shall we?" Arthur tried a smile as the nerves of what lay ahead increased inside him. He indicated with his head in the direction of the middle aged man who was disappearing out of sight on the walkway.

The two set off, following loosely behind the man who had let his dog off the lead now. The dog, a beautiful golden retriever, dashed off ahead, sniffing the ground and wagging his tail furiously, obviously delighted to be free of the lead, until the man called him and he went obediently to his master's side. The man patted the dog's head affectionately and then threw the stick he'd held in his hand. The dog barked and then ran for the stick, which he brought back before the game started again. The man carried on walking up the hillside as he played with his dog and Arthur and Guinevere followed behind, laughing at the dog as he barked with excitement.

Eventually, some distance up the walkway, the path they were on split in two. The man and his dog went one way, Arthur and Guinevere went the other way. Ahead in the distance they could hear the sound of rushing water.

"It must be a waterfall," Arthur said, as they climbed up the increasingly steep and rocky path. The bright sunlight was now completely blocked by trees and bushes, which seemed to thicken and narrow the pathway as they went along. By now Arthur was walking slightly ahead on the narrow path until, suddenly, he stopped in his tracks. By now the sound of the waterfall was louder than ever.

"Oh my God, you just have to see this," Arthur pointed as he spoke and stood slightly aside to let Guinevere through. Guinevere followed Arthur's pointed finger and gasped. Just ahead the path opened right up again. Through the sunlight streaming ahead Guinevere could make out a stream surrounded by grass banks and rocks, which gleamed grey and black, shining as if they'd been polished, in the sunshine. As Guinevere and Arthur walked on the skies reappeared above them. They turned towards the sound of the water they'd heard earlier, and just as Arthur said, they were confronted by a waterfall, which crashed over rocks from the taller hills above, into to the stream below. The waterfall glittered like falling diamonds in the afternoon sun.

"Will this do?" Arthur asked, after a long moment where the two of them just stared breathlessly at the scenery ahead.

Guinevere nodded, taking in the secluded spot. It almost felt like they were the first people to ever set foot there. "It's beautiful, absolutely perfect," she replied wistfully, gazing at the scene ahead.

"Come on, let's go and find a spot to sit down," Arthur said after a moment. "I don't know about you, but my legs are aching from the climb up here."

Guinevere giggled and rolled her eyes. "You make it sound like we've climbed Everest, it wasn't that far." She grinned cheekily at Arthur.

Arthur's heart turned over at the normality of this moment, the way Guinevere was teasing him like she used to before their world was turned upside down. Arthur wished they could be like this forever, normal and happy, laughing together as they'd always done before, but even as he had the thought the divorce papers reappeared in his mind.

"You tell that to my legs." He forced his tone to be as bright as possible, trying to keep the moment light for just a little longer.

"You're not as fit as you used to be." Guinevere teased again. "That's because you spend most of your time in an office, sitting down." They walked as they spoke, until they came to a bank on the stream that was covered in lush grass. They sat on an angle, partly facing the waterfall, but also turned to each other. Guinevere put the basket down between them.

"I'll have you know I'm perfectly fit." Arthur bantered, trying to sound playful.

Silence descended after a moment. The only sounds to be heard were the birds as they sang in the trees and the water as it crashed down the waterfall to the stream below. Everything else was quiet and still. It should have been peaceful, Guinevere mused, but suddenly the atmosphere had changed and become uncomfortable and awkward.

"So, do you want to eat first, or shall we talk first?" Guinevere suddenly wished she'd remembered to put something to drink in the picnic basket. Her mouth had gone dry, though she had no idea why she suddenly felt so nervous.

Arthur shrugged and cleared his throat awkwardly. "I'm all right for a while, I'm not hungry." He didn't say he felt sick, but as he sat there, his heart hammering, Arthur didn't think he'd ever be able to eat again, let alone right now. A metallic taste lingered in his mouth, which was as dry as a bone.

Guinevere nodded, "No, me neither. We'll have something a bit later, okay?"

Arthur didn't reply, he just nodded and swallowed hard, willing the nauseous feeling to die down.

Silence came over the couple again. They spent several long minutes taking in the scenery around them, suddenly looking everywhere but at each other. Arthur knew he should say something, but at that moment, as he sat there, he had no idea where to start. He knew what he needed to say. He needed to tell Guinevere about the divorce. He needed to explain what he'd been thinking when he started the proceedings. He needed to tell Guinevere he loved her, would always love her, and the last thing he wanted was a divorce, but suddenly the words wouldn't come. The confidence of earlier, when he walked away from John on the farm, certain in his mind of what he needed to do, had ebbed away completely, leaving him at a loss.

"Arthur?" Guinevere's voice broke the awkward silence. Arthur flinched as if she'd yelled at him, but her voice was hardly more than a whisper. He still couldn't look at her face.

"Arthur, why...why don't you touch me anymore?" Guinevere asked the question carefully, reluctantly. Her heart pounded furiously. The courage she'd gained from speaking with Mary earlier had all but disappeared, leaving her with this stifling awkwardness. She willed herself to be brave, stealing a quick glance at Arthur, whose expression was blank. The only thing that gave his anxiety away was his body language as he sat watching the waterfall. He gazed ahead rigidly, his whole body filled with tension.

"I do touch you, I touch you all the time." Arthur knew he sounded defensive, but he couldn't help himself. Typically, Guinevere had got straight to the point. Arthur knew perfectly well what she meant, but how could he bring himself to say that he couldn't let himself have any sort of meaningful physical contact with Guinevere because their marriage had collapsed after the baby died, and because he'd left and started divorce proceedings?

Guinevere sighed and shook her head, trying to think of what to say. "I know you looked after me when I was ill, so you must have had to touch me then, obviously, and I know you've held me a couple of times when I was crying for Gwydre when I got better, but that's touching me because you obviously thought you should, to care for me and comfort me, but you don't touch me like you used to Arthur. You don't show physical affection anymore, I can't remember the last time you kissed me, and we don't even share a bed anymore. I know things have been difficult Arthur, I know you must have done things for me when I was ill you would never have expected to have to do for me, and I know some people's relationships do struggle when they are caring for their husband or wife. I've been caring for people long enough to know that people can sometimes struggle to be intimate with someone when they have to wash and dress them, because they see the illness and not the person, but I'm better now and I don't understand why you don't touch me like you used to, or why we don't share a bed anymore. I know it sounds awful, but I can't even remember the last time we made love Arthur, but it must be..."

"It was the day Gwydre died." Arthur cut across Guinevere, unable to stand the confusion in her voice any longer. "The last time we made love was the day Gwydre died. You were going to get up and check on him that morning, but he hadn't made a sound, so we both thought he was still sleep. I didn't have to go into work until late that day, so I persuaded you to stay in bed a bit longer and we made love. You were going to check on him after, but you looked so comfortable there and I had to start making a move to get ready for work anyway, so I said I'd do it. I was going to bring him in to you to feed him while I was getting ready for work. I found him in his cot, and we've talked about what happened after that." Arthur couldn't face going over that memory again, finding Gwydre cold and still, like a marble statue, his skin devoid of any colour, his body lifeless as Arthur picked him up.

Guinevere swallowed down a wave of emotion. "I...I'd forgotten you found him." Guinevere's voice trembled as she spoke. "That must have been..." She couldn't think of the words to say what she meant.

"It was awful, I've never been so terrified in my whole life, at least, not until..." Arthur shuddered in spite of the warmth of the day.

"Until I was ill?" Guinevere asked softly, holding back tears. Arthur still wouldn't look at her. He nodded, unable to speak.

Guinevere nodded, her mind grasping what Arthur said about the last time they made love. "So we haven't made love in all that time? I should remember, I know I should remember, and I'm sorry I don't, but all that time, honestly?" She turned to Arthur in disbelief.

Arthur knew the time had come. It was time to start explaining himself.