Page 42 of The Golden Girls’ Road Trip

‘Do you want to stop?’ I ask Alex as we get closer. ‘I could stay outside with Bardo if you like.’ I don’t know why I say this as she’s never bothered about walking into places with her dog. She couldn’t care less what people think. She’s been quiet this morning, other than navigating with my phone – hers seems to be permanently dead – and I wonder if talking about Lord Linton has set her back. She seems to open up with alcohol and shut back down with a hangover.

‘No,’ she says. ‘I really want to get these paintings delivered and then get to Aberystwyth.’

I’m not sure why there’s such a big rush now, but I carry on through the high street where the shops are bigger, brighter and more abundant, until Alex tells me to turn left at the clock tower. She takes us up through residential streets until we’re on a bend and she points at a driveway leading up into the trees.

The house is made from beautiful Welsh stone and has a balcony at the front. I can only imagine they have the most amazing views up towards the hills. The garden is full of rhododendrons and azaleas, with a glorious Japanese maple. The sun continues to shine and this feels very much like a little slice of paradise. I help her carry the paintings to the front door, where she takes a key from a safe stuck to the wall, reading the security number from a message on her phone. She pulls it out of her bag, switches it on, reads the number, then turns it off again before dropping it back into her bag. Not permanently dead then.

The house has a stone porch and Alex unlocks and opens the door where we stack the paintings inside. Then, she locks up and replaces the key in the safe.

‘They’re not back until this afternoon, but she told me to leave them,’ she says, massaging her hip with the palm of her hand. ‘Three more offloaded, we’re getting through them, aren’t we.’

We are getting through them and we’ve barely begun to talk, not properly. I have a horrible feeling we’ll be on our way back to Inverness, having never really had the row we need to have. And then what?

Alex calls for Bardo to come out of the van and he hops down willingly. He has a good sniff about and then cocks his leg against a tree before hopping back in. I have to say, he is a very good dog.

When we’re all back in the van, we leave the house and head towards the A487. Aberystwyth is only eighteen miles away. It doesn’t seem as if we’re going to be spending too much time in the van today.

There’s no need for navigation; this road is pretty much all there is through this part of mid Wales. We pass very little, other than a few isolated properties along the way and then a petrol station where I decide to pick up some chocolate. I don’t need fuel. The needle, I notice, shows a good half a tank. I do make a mental note to get the van in for a service when I get back, though. When I get back – that is such an odd thought. It really does feel as if this is my reality now: being on the road with Alex.

‘Someone called Leo phoned you,’ she says, when I get back in. ‘I didn’t answer it,’ she says.

‘He’s a friend,’ I say, even though she didn’t ask. She looks at me as if she can see the lie sitting on my lips.

‘Whatever,’ she says. Alex can still do a hint of the surly teenager.

Dark clouds roll over as we make the last few miles into Aberystwyth. The threat of rain is very clear in the darkening mass.

‘I could do with a big breakfast,’ Alex says. ‘What about you?’

It’s ten-thirty and we only had a cup of coffee in the lodge and some chocolate in the van. Alex finds a café and we park up on the road at North Beach and walk into town.

As expected she doesn’t ask, but just walks in with Bardo. The owner doesn’t seem bothered though and makes a fuss of him, but does give us a table at the back of the café away from the window. Perhaps he doesn’t like to advertise the fact that he’s dog-friendly.

Alex orders a huge gut-buster breakfast with everything, but I choose a toasted tea cake and a latte.

‘Are you on a diet?’ she asks after the waiter disappears.

‘It’s all I want at the moment, and anyway, I plan on stuffing my face with fish and chips in the van while looking at the sea through heavy rain later, as nature intended. We’re on the Welsh coast and there is nothing I’d like to do more. I’m saving my appetite.’

In the end, Alex eats less than half of what she’s ordered and most of that was dropping bits under the table for the dog. The waiter looks disappointed when he takes her plate away, as if he gets paid by the mouthful. I sincerely hope he doesn’t.

‘It was delicious, thank you,’ I say, to his retreating figure.

We leave and walk back down to the sea afterwards and sit in the van looking at the waves.

‘What’s the plan, Alex? Are we here for fun today? Where’s your next painting to be delivered?’

‘This is a pit stop really. The painting is for someone in Llandovery, but I’m still trying to keep the journeys down to just under two hours.’ I drag my map out from under my seat and open it up.

‘This is a bit of a long short cut isn’t it? We could have just headed down the four-seventy,’ I say, tracing my finger down the paper.

‘Well, your phone gave both options and one went straight through here,’ she says, her tone defensive.

‘But—’

‘For Christ’s sake, Connie, I just thought you’d like to come to Aberystwyth; my mistake, clearly.’

She levers herself back out of the van, drops to the pavement and begins to walk towards the beach, Bardo hot on her heels.