Chapter 3
A parting of the ways.
The flight home was not relaxing.
For starters, I had watched out my window as Wales faded from view behind us.
Next was the long haul over the gray Atlantic ocean far below us.
There was a touchdown at La Guardia to change planes and continue on across the continental U.S.
This at least had scenery as I watched the patchwork landscape of farms and small towns rolling underneath the wing and disappearing behind us.
A nap was out of the question, the image of the Hellhound caught in the camera's flash lingered in my mind's eye.
I mentally reviewed the image, she did have some sort of clothing on.
If one thought of a sort of leather bikini top covering her breasts and a sort of loin cloth covering her 'naughty bits' as an old Monty Python sketch had referred to them.
Who had made them, I wondered.
I also wondered about my recollection of Mary's anguish over the Hellhound and her cryptic remark about having borne her.
Just how old, was Mary?
By the time I reached Los Angeles, I was a freaking zombie and barely remembered going through customs. (Here my idea of tossing my dirty old undies and socks rather than bringing them back with me paid off nicely. I didn't have jack for luggage!)
Snagging a shuttle, I got a ride back out to my house in Granada Hills, where I crashed and burned for almost twelve hours.
I returned to work only long enough to put in for my retirement and cash out my accumulated sick and vacation leave.
My supervisor was a bit surprised by the suddenness of my decision as I could have put in another twenty years before my 60th birthday and I had already put in sixteen years and bought my military time.
As it was, I would be collecting about 50% of my present income, which was doable if I lived modestly.
Leaving my job with mixed feelings, I put my house on the market and began selling off most of my things to raise more cash for the move.
I kept only one motorcycle, my long time favorite, a Norton model 19S.
I obtained two twenty foot shipping containers and proceeded to pack them very tightly with my household goods, furniture and other personal effects I just could not sell.
In a ten foot container went my bike and machine tools and enough spare parts for the bike to build a second one.
It was with mixed feelings I watched my entire household get picked up by a truck and hauled away to the shipping dock to eventually land in Wales.
My house sold for a good price and I said farewell to the house I was born in and had been left to me by my parents.
A good friend, a woman I had known for many years invited me over for dinner and we ended up sharing a few drinks and one thing led to another...The sex was wonderful and we made love several times before I finally conked out next to her in her bedroom, utterly spent.
The next morning we enjoyed another romp in the hay and afterwards, she murmured in my ear, "Had I known you were such a gentle lover, I could have spared myself a few heartaches!"
I nuzzled her soft throat and sleepily replied,"I could say the same thing myself. I always valued your friendship more than I craved sex, I always thought you were quite attractive but your friendship was very important to me and I didn't want to spoil anything by making a move and ruining a good thing. It's funny now that we are saying good bye in the sweetest possible manner, that we can share our innermost true feelings."
She smiled at me and softly replied, "Since you're moving to Wales of all places, I felt this was a very appropriate way to wish each other well."
She then grinned roguishly and said gleefully, "I'll let it be known that you were a real stallion in bed and wore me out!"
I laughed and smacked her with a pillow and the fight was on!
A group of my riding friends hauled me out to the Mojave desert for a week end of riding a borrowed dirt bike, drinking beer, eating camp cooked food and staring into a crackling fire until it became a bed of glowing embers...Like the eyes of a Hellhound back in Wales.
The Hellhound waiting for my return.
Why was I so fascinated by her, a creature who could tear me apart, according to Mary, the aged woman who patiently awaited my return.
I wondered about myself, an encounter with her could lead to fatal results for me yet I was strangely thrilled at the prospect, even...Dare I say it? Aroused.
Nearly three very hectic, months after my return from Wales, I bought a one way ticket to go back.
I was now leaving the states, all of my things were already in Wales and I was right behind them.
I, Seemingly the last of my family, was returning to the land and the house we had left nearly four centuries before.
The flight back took less time than I expected, something about a strong tail wind was announced from the cockpit by the captain.
Almost before I knew it, we were touching down at Cardiff International, I was back in Wales.
Gawd 'elp me!
The cab driver pulled up in front of the old house and stopped near the three shipping containers full of my things.
My work was just beginning.
After the cabbie had left with a generous tip in addition to her fee.
I found myself standing outside the looming bulk of my new/old home.
Once again, I questioned my own sanity. I could have just ignored the original letter, but then I had to go and read it.
Mary greeted me rather warmly and soon, we were sitting down to tea.
The containers could wait, we were having tea!
Taking her first sip, Mary sighed and remarked,"I admit I had missed our haven tea together, at me age, I don't get many gentlemen callers."
Her watery blue eyes twinkling with merriment.
I smiled and replied, "And aren't we full of mischief today!"
I glanced out the window and at the looming pile of the house outside.
"Oddly enough, I found myself missing this place, even while I was severing my ties to everything and everyone I had ever known."
Mary nodded and said quietly, "This place is the only home I have ever node, I can't imagine leaven here ter move halfwoy 'round the world. You took quite the leap of faith, young geezer."
"I sure did," I replied cheerfully, "My whole world, my life is sitting outside in those metal boxes."
Mary chuckled softly and remarked,"I was so surprised when these great lorrys showed up an' the men said "Where d'ya want 'em?" I could only point out where they put them an' wetch them getten unloaded."
She smiled and said,"I took it as a sign you were indeed, comen back."
On a more serious note, she asked,"Now, where're you guin ter sleep? It wouldn't be appropriate fer you ter sleep in here with me."
I grinned and replied, "Yes, one must keep up appearances of propriety. I'll sleep in one of the smaller sheds for now. There's a couple that look fairly habitable. I'll look them over and put my bed in the one that doesn't appear to be in use by her, and can be secured."
Mary did not comment on my last remark, we both knew perfectly well who I was referring to.
The shed I ended up moving into was in fairly decent shape and could easily be remodeled into a cozy little place, moreover it bore no signs of being in use by the Hellhound nor had any of the other buildings I'd looked into during my explorations of the house and grounds.
I had not noticed anything resembling a den or a hiding place for such a creature.
There was that one window I'd seen her peering out of, but that was only when I was leaving the house in general.
It suddenly dawned on me that the only building I had not looked through was Mary's cottage.
And even though I had been inside, it was only in the kitchen/dining area and parlour. The rest of the cottage was still unknown to me.
Could the Hellhound be living with her in that small cottage?
Borrowing a broom, I swept out the shed and unsealed the second shipping container.
Inside within easy reach was my bed room set.
While Mary 'supervised', I lugged my entire bedroom set including my antique armoir into the shed and set it all up.
My clothing came next and after that, a rude sort of a desk was laid across two filing cabinets and my chair rolled into place.
The shed was rapidly becoming a home.
I opened the third container and got out some of my tools and a mixture of construction screws.
Using some old lumber I'd found, my cordless drill driver and a handful of screws.
I reinforced the shed door and windows, for just in case of a prowler.
Mary apparently got a real kick out of seeing me using the cordless drill to drive the long screws I'd brought from my old home.
She commented drily, "In me grandpa's day, they used turn screws, not that sorta thingy!"
I grinned at her and retorted, "Believe me, your grandpa would've used one of these in a second, to make his life easier!"
Mary simply shrugged and resumed her 'supervising' with her tea cup in hand.
For temporary lighting, I got out a couple of my L.E.D. camping lanterns and hung them in the shed.
Their cheery glow soon filling the small building with light.
Later on, I would tap into Mary's electrical service to her cottage, for a more permanent set up, lighting wise.
That evening when my stomach had commenced to growling, Mary surprised me with a big bowl of a simple stew and a hunk of buttered bread.
She said her 'good nights' and toddled off to her cottage.
It smelled delicious and I quickly made it disappear.
In the morning, I would see about getting a vehicle, preferably a small truck with tool bins if possible.
I slept quite soundly that first night in my new home.
If the Hellhound had come a'callin', I slept right through it.
Sure enough, the next morning, I saw large paw prints in the freshly raked ground right outside my shed.
She had come to visit and I was out like a light.
Oddly, I felt a pang of regret over missing her.
I walked into town after breakfast with Mary, and caught a bus to the town of Rhymney where I visited the post office and applied for my British driver's license, on the advisement of the kind person behind the counter, I changed it to an international driver's license instead.
Practically right across the street, there was a branch office of Lloyds bank, I stopped in and began the process of opening an account and arranging for the transfer of about fifty grand from the XXXX city employee's federal credit union for the duration.
With that done, I popped into a market and picked up some groceries for Mary and I.
I then snagged a newspaper to peruse the car ads and came home via the return bus.
Walking back to the house, I enjoyed the grandeur of the Beacons National Park.
Brecon was literally lying in the heart of this grand spectacle of a broad valley surmounted by the range of peaks known as The Beacons.
I smiled and looked forward to riding my Norton model 19S over the many narrow roads traversing this storied range.
Back at the house, I set up a solar panel as a charging station for my power tools and soon, a small array of 24 volt batteries sat quietly absorbing the energy being fed to them after their long voyage.
Still feeling energetic, I cleaned out another shed that had been used to house a tractor or two, judging by the oil drips on the concrete floor.
With better doors and a couple of new windows, it would make a nice workshop for my lathe and small milling machine.
Of course, it needed a major electrical upgrade for the lathe and the welding equipment, I planned on installing.
That evening, Mary and I enjoyed a simple meal followed by a leisurely cup of tea.
She remarked, "I haven't seen so much activity around here in a lung time. I don't know what this stuff does, but it's doen summat!"
When I explained to her what a solar panel did, she looked amazed and commented, "What wull they cum up with anunst?"
A bit cliched I admit, but I'm just telling my story and that's what she said, honest!
I washed up as best I could out of a bucket of water, a bar of soap and a washcloth.
A reliable source of hot water and a bathroom, just got moved way up on my list of "Things to do".