by Iris Gower
‘I won’t be long and, when I come back, I’ll talk to one of the better painters to see if between us we can come up with some fresh designs.’
‘Change the firebird emblem on the china, is that what you mean?’
‘That’s exactly what I mean. Joe is no longer interested in the pottery or in me and it’s about time I accepted that and acted accordingly.’
She knew she sounded bright and confident but, as she walked away from the pottery, her vision was blurred. Angrily she wiped away the tears that misted her eyes. Crying had never solved her problems in the past and it would not solve them now. She had to wake up and face the facts, Joe and she were finished, their marriage was over.
‘I have some news for you, Edward, my love.’ Alice was reclining in her favourite chair after eating a hearty dinner of beef and kidney pie laced with oysters. She was holding a glass of port in her hand, watching the light from the fire reflecting in the ruby wine.
‘My news first, my dear.’ He sat down the same way as he did everything, with small precise movements. ‘I have been working hard at the bank and my endeavours have been recognized.’ He smiled with self-satisfaction. ‘I have been made senior manager of the Swansea branch, now what do you think of that then?’
‘How wonderful, haven’t I a clever husband?’ she enthused. ‘I knew you could do it, my darling.’ She looked at him from under her lashes. ‘And there is something else you have done successfully.’ She smiled at him. ‘Can you guess what it is?’
He frowned. ‘I’m not given to such childish games, Alice, you know that. If you have something to tell me then say it.’
She swallowed the angry retort that sprang to her lips. He could be such a conceited buffoon at times. ‘You have done wonderfully well, the midwife thinks we are to have twins.’
His eyebrows shot up into his hairline. ‘Good heavens!’ he said. ‘Two more mouths to feed.’
Alice hid her anger. ‘Ah well, you must be particularly virile, my darling,’ she said. ‘And we did try exceptionally hard to get a baby.’ She glanced at him from under her lashes. ‘I shall have to be extra careful, twins tend to be born prematurely.’ It was a good ploy, with luck Edward would never realize that the babies would arrive too early for him to be the father.
‘So it’s twins then?’ Edward looked suddenly pleased with himself. He clearly saw himself as a man of great physical prowess. ‘Well, that is good news.’ He did not sound sure. ‘Not quite necessary now that I’ve been given a senior position anyway.’
‘Well it can’t be undone!’ Alice said and then softened her tone. ‘Excuse me, dear, women are sometimes a little out of sorts at such times.’ She forced herself to smile at him though she felt more like slapping him across his smug face.
‘Look at it this way, a man of experience like you, and a solid family man to boot, can look higher than Swansea. You could be promoted to Cardiff or even to London or Bristol, wouldn’t that be wonderful?’
After a few moments’ consideration he nodded sagely. ‘I must confess, dear, that I had not thought that far. You are quite right as usual. You are an asset to me, Alice.’
This was praise indeed coming from Edward. She pressed home her advantage. ‘Edward, I understand you have visits from area bank officials occasionally, is that so?’
‘It is. Why?’
‘Well then we must entertain them in style when they come to visit, impress them with our hospitality and our breeding.’
This was sometimes a sore point with Edward that Alice came from a better class of family than he did. Now, however, he saw the advantages and decided to play them for all he was worth. Edward Sparks was a very ambitious man.
‘What, invite them here, you mean?’ Edward sounded doubtful. He looked around the small rooms, seeing the place with fresh eyes. Alice smiled to herself.
‘It would be nice if we had a larger house, of course,’ Alice said. ‘Something in a better area.’ She waited for Edward to digest this latest idea. He stroked his chin and looked down at his highly polished boots.
‘But could we afford it, Alice? Would your father help us, do you think?’
Alice doubted it; her father had been glad to get rid of her. However, Eynon Morton-Edwards could be induced to put some money her way, especially when she convinced him that the twins she was carrying were his.
‘You go ahead and arrange it, Edward, darling,’ she said. ‘Leave the financial side of it to me.’
He appeared doubtful. Alice knew he liked to be in control of anything to do with money. Methodical he might be but an entrepreneur he was not. ‘Once Daddy knows there are grandchildren on the way, he’ll give in and increase my allowance. He might even be generous enough to buy us a better house. If he does, I’ll leave it all to you to handle, I promise.’ He seemed satisfied. He poured himself a full measure of port, a sure sign that he was congratulating himself on his cleverness.
All that remained was for her to see Eynon and to convince him it was in his best interests to help her. She already had a small store of money handed over to her by Lily. The girl was a fool; she would never get it back. As soon as was possible, Alice would find a way of dismissing Lily. And thinking further ahead, perhaps she would really go to see her father. There might be something in this grandchildren business.
She smiled to herself, she was really doing quite well, the small store of money Lily had given her would be enough for a down payment on a property, a gesture of goodwill until the real money came in. And come in it would, Alice intended to rise again to the station from which she was born. She was tired of mediocrity, tired of making do with out-of-fashion garments. If her husband was incapable of making their fortune then it was up to her to see to it and see to it she would.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
‘I can’t believe he’s gone, left me like this without a word.’ Hortense was walking in the garden with her mother, arms linked, closer than they had been in some years. In the background, she could hear the raised voices of her children as they climbed through the trees, shouting to each other as they played, unaware that anything was wrong. All Hortense had told them was that Binnie needed to go away for a while on a trip.
This morning, unable to keep silent any longer, she had dragged her mother away from her household duties and had told her everything. She explained about Binnie’s marriage, about his lies and deceit and about her own belated wedding to him. Now, she was waiting for the tirade of abuse against Binnie that must surely come. Her mother surprised her.
‘Why all the fuss, hon? A man’s a man, you never expected him to be pure like the driven snow, did you? You’re not that much of a fool. At least he never strayed when he was with you and that’s more than can be said about your father!’
‘But, Mammy, he lied to me! The boys were born out of wedlock, they’re bastards, can’t you see that?’
‘But who’s to know, Hortense? You and Binnie are legally married now and the boys will grow up thinking everything is fine and dandy. Look how many Americans living as respectable folks was born on the wrong side of the blanket, more than a few, I’ll bet.’
Hortense could think of nothing to say. She stared out across the open scrubland behind the house, prime land on which a town would one day flourish and grow. America was becoming rich in assets, industries were springing up, folks from across the sea were coming to America in shiploads. It was the land of opportunity and her sons would be part of it. But what of her husband?
‘Your-silly pride might have lost you the best man you are ever likely to find, honey,’ her mother said. ‘And all because of some nonsense that happened before he met you.’ She slipped her arm around Hortense in a rare show of affection.
‘You know I grieve for my Josephine whose man can’t keep his buttons done up. Then there’s poor Melia with no man of her own to love but you, Hortense, I was always happy about you.’
She paused to pick a dead head from one of the flowering shrubs, throwing it onto the
ground and staring at it as though the answers to all her questions lay in the dried-up petals.
‘You are my first-born,’ she said, ‘and it did my heart good to see you happy, cared for by a good man. Now you’ve let your damned pride drive him away. Get him back, Hortense, honey, write him a letter, tell him you wants him home before he meets some English girl and forgets all about you.’
Hortense felt a pang of fear. Binnie loved her, she had no doubt about that but she had struck out at him, spitting out fury and anger, and he had left America thinking she had finished with him for good. He was a good man but he was a young vigorous man and before long he would need a woman to fulfil his needs.
‘I think you’re right, Mammy. I’ve been a fool driving him away like that but perhaps it’s not too late.’ Hortense brightened. The day seemed to glow around her; her mother had made her see sense. She wanted Binnie back in her life and, even if she had to travel to England to do it, she would win her husband back in the end.
Josephine threw down her bonnet and slipped out of her light jacket, happy to be indoors away from the glare of the sun. She had a headache coming on; she seemed to be getting headaches a lot lately. The coolness of the house welcomed her and she was glad she had decided to return early from her shopping trip in town.
The house seemed to dream in a soft silence, outside the birds were singing and the leaves on the trees rustled in the warm breeze. It was good to be at home, in the house Daddy had given them. Her pregnancy had given her the ideal excuse to stop traipsing around the countryside with John. It was time they settled now that there was a child on the way. John settle? Pigs might fly.
Josephine rubbed her hand over her eyes; the headache was persisting, perhaps something to eat would help and a warm cup of coffee. She looked around for the maid. Veenie was usually in the kitchen preparing food. But the kitchen was empty. Josephine wandered outside to the back of the house and heard sounds coming from the washhouse. Veenie was probably up to her elbows in water. She was and she looked up startled when she saw Josephine.
‘Mrs Pendennis, you home early,’ she said. ‘Do you want me to git you anything? You looks hot and flustered.’
‘A nice cup of coffee would be wonderful,’ Josephine said. ‘Where’s Mr Pendennis, gone out has he?’
Veenie appeared flustered. ‘I don rightly know, miss.’ Veenie rubbed her big arms against her apron. ‘I’ll put the coffee on right away.’
She really should get another couple of servants, Josephine thought. Now that she was going to be staying in Troy she could establish a permanent staff. A cook would be a necessity and a young girl to do the menial tasks. But not too pretty a young girl, she thought ruefully.
Veenie made an inordinate amount of noise, bustling about the kitchen, banging pots even singing a little to herself. Josephine considered asking what had got into her but she was too tired and her skirts felt suddenly tight around her expanding middle. Better to get upstairs and change.
‘Mrs Pendennis!’ Veenie followed her into the hall. ‘I should have asked you before but I needs a day off next week.’ Her voice was unnaturally loud. ‘Any day will do. I just needs to see my sister, she ain’t been well an I said I’d go over and give her a hand.’
Josephine stared at Veenie: why was she getting so excited at a simple request for time off? She heard it then, the sound of movement from upstairs. She heard a laugh, low and very feminine, a woman’s laugh. Veenie bit her lip and twisted her apron around her long fingers. ‘Sorry, Mrs Pendennis, I tried . . .’
‘My Lord!’ Josephine said. ‘He’s got a woman up there, in my bed, the bastard!’ She picked up her skirts and made her way upstairs, her heart thumping, the pain in her head worse. She pushed open the bedroom door and stood looking at them, her husband and the woman he was embracing. ‘Melia!’
For a long moment, no-one spoke. The silence was intense. Josephine ignored her sister and stared, eyes narrowed at John. ‘You lying cheating bastard!’ She spoke in a low voice. ‘I thought you were going to reform, give up your wild ways now that you are going to be a father. Instead I find you in bed and with my sister! How low could a man sink?’
John stared up at her, his colour high, it was clear he had been drinking. ‘A man needs some fun and some variety in his life. You wouldn’t give me either so I looked elsewhere.’
‘And you!’ Josephine stared at Melia. ‘How could you do this to me?’
‘Oh, look, hon, it doesn’t mean anything.’ Melia pushed aside the sheets and stood up beside the bed. Her breasts were firm and small, her hips rounded. Her skin had the sheen of sweat on it and her mouth was still damp from John’s kisses.
Rage such as she had never known before filled Josephine. She lunged forward and smacked Melia full in the face. Melia staggered away from her but Josephine followed and smacked her again, harder. Melia turned towards the open French doors. Outside, the balcony shimmered with colour and light but Josephine saw none of it; all she could see was John, her husband, in the arms of her sister, making love to her in the same bed he shared with his wife.
‘You slut!’ Josephine advanced on Melia, her hands reaching out to scratch the smooth skin. ‘You whore!’ She lashed out again at Melia and her sister looked at her with open scorn.
‘And you are a miserable, jealous woman and you’re fat and ugly into the bargain, why would a man like John want you?’
Enraged, Josephine flung herself at Melia. They were both on the balcony, struggling and lashing out at each other. The soft air brushed Josephine’s hot cheeks but she did not even feel it. The old boards of the balcony creaked beneath her feet. A small table was pushed against the rail as the two women struggled.
‘You brazen whore!’ Josephine pushed Melia away, hating her. Melia struggled to keep her balance, her arms flung wide. Then, as if in slow motion, she fell against the wooden handrail of the balcony.
The old wood groaned under the sudden weight. Melia clung to the rail but it cracked with a sound like a gunshot. And then Melia was crashing through the wooden balustrade and spiralling downwards, her bare limbs gleaming in the sunlight. It seemed to Josephine that the seconds became hours as she saw her sister screaming and twisting downwards, her arms flung wide, her mouth open.
Melia hit the dusty garden below with a dull thud and lay there, unmoving.
‘What have you done, you maniac!’ John was pulling on his trousers. ‘You’ve killed her, you’ve killed your own sister.’
He saw Veenie standing in the doorway. ‘Run and fetch Mr McCabe,’ he shouted. ‘Git!’
Josephine could not move. She stared down at her sister, spread-eagled against the dusty ground, her limbs very white in the bright sunshine. Josephine could not believe her own eyes. She had pushed Melia to her death.
She stood there unable to move as John rushed down the stairs and out of the house. She saw him bend over Melia and lift her wrist in his brown hands, hands that moments before had been caressing Melia’s flesh. When he released her wrist, Melia’s arm fell limply back onto the ground.
Josephine clung to the door-frame, staring out, unable to move and she was there when her father came into the garden. He looked up at her and then went to Melia’s side. Josephine heard the sound of his voice giving instructions and then John was lifting Melia and carrying her into the house.
It was like a bad dream being enacted before her eyes. As if in a nightmare, Josephine stood in the circle of her father’s arm and watched as Veenie and John dressed Melia and tied up her hair. Melia was still, unmoving, there was no doubt she was dead.
‘Now. Veenie, listen to me, this is what happened here,’ Dan McCabe spoke firmly, his tone clipped. ‘The girls was going to have some tea on the balcony.’ He frowned in concentration. ‘You must go now and fetch a tray up here with a bite to eat.’
Veenie disappeared promptly, her eyes wide with fear. Josephine felt her father hug her tightly. ‘Come on, honey, pull yourself together, we must cover this up best we
can. Fetch her slippers, John.’ He barked the command and John moved swiftly.
Josephine felt John lift her feet one by one and help her change her shoes. She watched speechless as Veenie returned with a tray and a cloth and set the small table for tea. The maid was edgy and kept well away from the broken spars of wood that dangled over the garden below, glancing every now and again at Josephine with tears of sympathy in her dark eyes.
‘Now then,’ Dan said, ‘this is what took place: the girls were going to have tea, as I said, then Melia stumbled against the balcony rail. The wood gave way and she fell. Simple as that and no-one could save her.’ He looked at his daughter. ‘That’s what happened, isn’t it, Jo?’ He squeezed her shoulder again.
‘I hit her,’ Josephine said, ‘she was in bed with my husband, I was blinded with anger and so I hit her. It’s my fault she’s dead, my fault.’
‘No, you got that wrong,’ Dan said. ‘It’s nobody’s fault, she slipped, the wood must have been rotten to break like that anyway.’ There was a catch in his throat. ‘I’ve lost one daughter, I do not intend to lose another. Now have you all got the story straight before I call the sheriff?’
Josephine nodded, her father always knew what to do, she was safe with him. He led her to the sun-filled sitting room and she waited there feeling as though she was living in a nightmare world. It was a strangely unreal world where people came and went, questions were asked and lies were told.
At last, Melia’s body was taken away and Josephine was alone with John. She could not look at him. Not even when he came and knelt beside her and took her hand and begged her forgiveness. When she was so weary that she could not bear it, she asked Veenie to move her things into the spare bedroom. Then, without even bothering to take off her dress, she crawled into bed and fell into a fitful sleep.
The next morning, Josephine Pendennis miscarried her child and she knew then that the nightmare was real and would stay with her for the rest of her life.
‘Are you settling in now, Binnie?’ Even as Llinos asked the question she felt she already knew the answer. Binnie was like a fish out of water, pining for his family back in America.
