"Um... well... I", I stutter (again). Either I need speech therapy or to just get this off my chest. "Your father has a granddaughter", I blurt out and he looks puzzled at first.

"You're kidding right?" he answers.

"Well, obviously your mum and dad had a kid while they were on holiday", I suggest.

"My Mam passed away before Dad went", he whispers. "Probably why he did go away; couldn't take a kid on his own".

"He was probably heartbroken. When something happens in a relationship, you just need someone to love and someone to love you back. Sometimes you need to leave the responsibility you had behind because it reminds you so much of the pain you're going through. You want to start afresh because, when you're in that situation, you just think love is dead", I answer thoughtfully.

"Well, my Dad had a Hell of a time at the wake", he yells, getting increasingly angrier. "You know, I've lived my life in a cold church, sleeping in the pews, while he's been living it up in New York. I was three years old! And for him to leave me like that, it's just... Horrible".

"I know what that feels like, my Mum was going to leave me with a debt-stricken Dad", I say. "I know what you're going through".

"Really? You think so? I'm sorry to sound mean Kelly, but you don't. My Mam died in a hospital bed and my Dad wasn't there. She said her final words to me, and nobody else. If my Dad was so heart-broken, then why wasn't he there?" he asks and I actually don't have an answer for him. Maybe I don't know what he's going through. I look outside and see a huge flock of sheep pass the window followed by a tweed wearing farmer and a black and white sheepdog. I miss Scruff.

"You know what Gruffydd. I don't know what you're going through. I don't know at all. And I admit that, but I, um..." I start. "Call him".

"What? No, no, I can't. I mean, he left me on a church step and headed off to New York. He probably doesn't even remember me", he murmurs. 

"Do it. Call him", I answer, passing him my phone. He bites his lip and looks at the phone, then reluctantly puts it to his ear. I smile at him and head outside. Better give them some privacy, it might get loud.

So, what now? Nobody to see, nothing to do. I'll just people watch for now. It's certainly an interesting town, wonder if the people are just as interesting. I plonk myself down on a grassy bank opposite a thatched shop. A tall woman dressed in blue dungarees and a red striped shirt wanders out with a brown paper bag. Oh my God, I've found Waldo! She looks at me, smiles and walks over. Without saying a word, she pulls out a loaf of bread and a five pound note and drops them at my feet. What the- Oh...

"I'm not a beggar, love. Keep your bread", I exclaim and she mouths an "Oh". Quickly she picks up her bread and her money and walks down the street. Maybe I should have kept it. I'm starving.

"Getting to know the locals, eh?" voice calls from behind my left shoulder. I turn around to see Tom, leaning on a rusty metal well.

"Well, have to sometime", I say and rush over to him. He hugs me and laughs. Well, this is a contrast to last time. It was the Welsh cakes, you see. Sends your concentration levels through the roof.

"So, you seen your room yet?" he asks.

"No, I haven't had anyone take me there. I have no idea where it is", I reply.

"I'll take you there. It's just down the street", he suggests, looking rather excited.

"Okay, sounds fun! Oh, but let me just get my phone first", I say and run down to Gruffydd's house. Quietly opening the door, I hear an angry voice on the phone and close it again. Maybe not a good time to ask him for my phone back. I hurry back to Tom, who is now wearing a helmet with a dragon on the side and is swinging another one round in his hand. Why the heck does he need those? It's not like it's dangerous, is it?

"So, um, what's all this?" I ask, gesturing to his gear.

"Oh, its quite a long journey, so I thought I'd make it more fun", he answers. "Go on put your helmet on". Its bright yellow with green stripes down the side. In big purple text it reads "JUMP". I've seen some hideous sights, but this is by far the worst. "I picked it out especially for you", he laughs and I roll my eyes. Swallowing my pride, I reluctantly put it on my head, feeling instantly like an idiot. "You look cute", he says, trying not to smile.

"What about you, dragon head?" I tease.

"Excuse me, this is the emblem of Wales", he says. "You know, for that, you're going in the front".

"The front of what?" I ask. He giggles to himself and whistles, pointing up the hill. A grey sheep, dressed in a pink sequined collar and black saddle, runs quickly down.

"This is our ride", he bellows, slightly too loudly. You've got to be kidding me.

"I'm not getting on that thing", I say.

"Excuse me, she has a name", he replies offended. "Kelly, this is Barbara. Barbara, Kelly". Barbara looks at me with a disgusted look as if to say "I'm not letting that foreigner on me". She picks up a piece of grass and munches it while Tom strokes her.

"Come on then. Hop on", he exclaims. I did horse-riding in school, this should be easy. I get onto the saddle and look for the reins; there were none.

"Has she swallowed the reins or something?" I ask and Barbara snorts at me. 

"No, there aren't any. You just shout left or right", he replies from the back. Right,  um, okay slightly different to horse riding. 

"Um, Barbara. Walk", I awkwardly gesture forward, but she doesn't do anything and just continues to chew at some grass.

"Oh, sorry, forgot to say. You have to say it in Welsh", he laughs.

"You couldn't have taught her it in English?" I yell.

"Well, we've only just learnt English here!", he answers and I roll my eyes.

"Okay, um, walk but", I say in the strongest Welsh accent I could muster. Tom chuckles in the back and mutters something along the lines of "Stereotypical lot the Americans".

"I don't know Tom, what do you expect from me? I've been here about five hours and you think I can tell a sheep to walk forward", I appeal.

"Okay, okay. I'll give you that. Say 'cerdded'", he answers. Turning to the sheep I call exactly what he said and Barbara trots forward very slowly. And I mean VERY slowly. I mean a snail could go quicker than her.

"She's not very fast, is she?" I call behind me, but Barbara snorts loudly and goes into a gallop across the cobblestone path down to the church. Well, she obviously understands that. Tom is bouncing about behind me and is holding desperately onto the saddle. I silently pray that I don't die this way. It won't look very good on my gravestone. I can see it now, Kelly Kennington: Death by Sheep. Closing my eyes, I expect to be plummeted head first into a ditch, but then a high pitched cry stops Barbara in her tracks.

"What was that?" I ask and look to see where I am. I'm in the church, and there's a wedding going on, of course there is.  Quietly saying sorry to the bride and groom, I lead Barbara outside to see Tom and Gruffydd standing by a huge  bale of hay chuckling.

"Going to wish the bride and groom a lovely marriage, eh?" Gruffydd says in a deep voice. He passes over my phone and smiles. Maybe the phone call to his Dad didn't go as bad as expected. He beckons me over to a quiet corner behind the church and Tom grins, but he seems sad. I head over, still looking at Tom, who's now staring at his feet, like he's been a naughty boy.

"Right well, Kelly to start I'd like to say..." he starts and before I can interrupt he gently kisses me on the cheek. "Thank you".

"What for?" I say.

"That half an hour on the phone to my Dad made everything clear. I did have a sister, but my parents kept her a secret because I always said how I wanted to be an only child and they sent her away to New York because my Mam was terminally ill. They didn't want me to find out, so Dad made up the story about leaving me because he didn't love me so I didn't miss him while he looked after my sister", he replies.

"So, you can go visit her, right?" I exclaim excitedly. "Hey, I can show you New York, like the Statue of Liberty and the Empire State Building and the..."

"She's dead", he says bluntly and I feel (and probably look) slightly shocked. "The thing my Mam died of, it runs in the family, but only women can get it. My sister had my niece, but then her health went drastically downhill".

"Oh, I'm so sorry Gruffydd", I respond mournfully.

"Don't worry, I didn't know her very well anyway", he says staring down at his feet. Maybe I'm out of my depth here, maybe this "family feud" is more than I can take...