by Iris Gower
‘You are my husband, Joe,’ Eline said desperately, ‘of course I love you.’ And it was true, she did love Joe, in a way. But it was not the way a woman loves her man, there was no passion in her love for him, no excitement. And perhaps her love was really gratitude for all he had done for her.
He touched her breasts with the tips of his fingers. ‘So lovely,’ he breathed. Eline closed her eyes as his mouth came down hot on her throat. Joe was crushing her to him, forcing a response from her in spite of herself. He was a strong, virile man and his appetites were great and, she told herself sternly, if she didn’t please him then there were other women in the village who would be only too happy to take her place.
Reluctantly, her arms closed around his broad shoulders. She gasped as he thrust against her, he was gripping her breasts so hard that his fingers, she knew, would bruise her pale skin. But he was lost now on a rising tide of passion, his eyes were closed, his breathing laboured. ‘Emmeline!’ he gasped and then it was over.
He rolled away and rested on his back, his broad chest rising and falling until gradually, his breathing became normal.
‘I love you, Eline.’ He reverted to the diminutive form of her name now that his passion was over. ‘You are mine now and for always and I’d kill any man who tried to take you away from me.’ He spoke with matter-of-fact calm and suddenly Eline felt a chill.
‘No one is going to take me away from you,’ she said quickly. She turned her face to the wall and there were tears in her eyes.
CHAPTER THREE
Eline scrubbed at the grey flags of the floor with an almost angry vigour; Joe walked sand and mud into the small kitchen with little thought for the work he was giving her.
She straightened, easing her back, aware that her knees were hurting from the cold hardness of the flags. And Eline recognized the need to punish herself for harbouring unworthy thoughts about the young man who had come to Oystermouth so recently.
William Davies had been on her mind constantly since the moment she had first met him; she even dreamed about him at night, erotic, passionate dreams that brought a flush to her cheeks when she remembered them in the morning.
She had caught sight of him from a distance several times. It was unavoidable that she should see him, Oystermouth being such a small village, but she had deliberately kept away from the boot and shoe shop that was now open for business and from all accounts doing very well. She knew that her feelings for the handsome young gentleman were misplaced, dangerous even. She belonged to Joe, she continually reminded herself, he was the man who had loved her ever since she was a child.
Eline rose to her feet. The floor was glistening with wetness, the flags given a transient sheen that would disappear as the floor dried to a dull, lifeless grey.
‘Bore da.’ The voice seemed to come out of the blue, startling her. ‘Good heavens, Eline, you’re looking like a thunder cloud, anything the matter?’
Eline turned, recognizing the squat shape of Carys Morgan outlined in the doorway where she stood squarely, blocking out the light.
‘Come in, Carys,’ Eline said quickly. ‘Nothing’s the matter, I just hate the way I have to scrub this floor to keep it clean after Joe’s boots been on it.’
Carys sighed. ‘All fishermen’s wives have that trouble, cariad, you’re not alone, mind.’ Carys tiptoed over the wet floor to sprawl into the rocking-chair that creaked a protest under her weight.
‘I know,’ Eline said, suppressing her irritation as she carried the bucket to the door and tipped it into the street, watching the water wash down the pavement and into the cobbled roadway.
‘Look,’ Carys’s voice carried to where Eline was staring dreamily along the roadway in the direction of William Davies’s Boot and Shoe Store. ‘I’m going to the market in Swansea this morning, what about coming with me?’
Eline turned eagerly. ‘Oh, could I?’ she said quickly, anything to get away from the boredom of the endless round of housework.
‘Would I be asking if I didn’t mean it?’ Carys said reasonably. ‘I want to do a bit of shopping in the market and if you could sell the oysters for me for an hour or so I’d be able to get it all done.’
Eline felt a qualm of dismay. ‘But I don’t know anything about selling oysters,’ she said quickly.
‘What’s to know?’ Carys asked, her dark eyebrows raised. ‘You sits there with the sacks of shellfish and folk come up to you and buy some, nothing to it.’
Carys eyed Eline’s slight figure. ‘You won’t be much use unloading the oysters from the cart, it’s true, but then I’m used to doing that on my own anyway.’ Carys put her head on one side. ‘Don’t mind a good walk, do you? Swansea’s about five miles away, mind.’
‘I’m used to walking,’ Eline said defensively. ‘When I lived on the farm I walked more than five miles every day.’
‘That’s settled then. Get your shawl and don’t wear anything tidy, mind, your clothes will smell of oysters by the end of the day.’
Eline wrapped a fresh, clean, white apron around her waist and took her old knitted shawl from the back of the door. She stood for a moment looking round her uncertainly.
‘If the skiffs come back early, Joe will wonder where I am,’ she said biting her lip. Carys tugged her towards the doorway.
‘Don’t worry about Joe,’ she said reassuringly, ‘I told my Sam before they sailed that I was going to ask you to come to Swansea with me, him and Joe will have chewed over the fat by now, they know everything that we women get up to, don’t you worry.’
An ice-cold finger touched Eline’s spine; Carys’s words seemed to carry a warning and she shivered.
‘What’s the matter, cariad, a goose walked over your grave?’
Eline forced a laugh and drew the door of her cottage shut. ‘Aye, something like that,’ she said softly.
Outside Carys’s house, the old mare stood patiently waiting between the shafts of the cart, head drooping to nuzzle the cobbles. Carys slapped the animal’s rump good-naturedly.
‘No oats down there for you, girl,’ she laughed. ‘Come on, Binnie, we’re going to Swansea and I promise I’ll let you chew some grass on the way.’
As the horse moved off, the cart jolted into motion and the sacks of oysters shifted, seeming to groan with life. Carys urged the animal forward holding the reins loosely in her plump hands as she led the horse out on to the roadway.
‘Nice day for it,’ she observed looking up at the clear skies. ‘Hope the rain keeps off, though my Sam did say there’s some coming later on today.’ She smiled at Eline. ‘We should be back by then.’
As the horse and cart jolted over the uneven ground, Eline glanced over to her left where the doorway of William Davies’s shop stood welcomingly open. The window display had been changed, it was eye catching; a parade of boots seemed to be walking across a stage covered in black silk, bringing to mind an army marching to war.
‘Duw, will you look at them boots,’ Carys said enviously, drawing the animal to a halt. ‘I’d love to see my Sam in something elegant like those high riding-boots.’
Handing the reins to Eline, she made her way across the road to peer in the window, hand against the glass.
Impatiently, Eline fidgeted, praying that William Davies wouldn’t see her wearing her old skirt and a shabby knitted shawl.
He appeared in the doorway so suddenly that Eline gasped, his eyes were upon her, and he was smiling warmly. To her embarrassment, he came out of the store and lifted his hand to greet her.
‘Good morning, fine day, isn’t it?’ He crossed the road and stood close, looking down at her. ‘What’s your name?’ he said softly.
‘Eline,’ she said, almost afraid to look at him. Her colour was high and she wanted to back away from him so intensely did she feel the attraction between them.
‘Eline, that’s beautiful.’ He spoke in a low tone and the words, ordinary in themselves, conveyed an intimacy that was unmistakable.
Unable to help herself, she looked up a
nd her eyes met his. ‘Mr Davies,’ she began, knowing she must tell him she was married, that she was Mrs Eline Harries, but he stopped her with his hand raised in protest.
‘Will, anyone who is important in my life calls me Will.’ He thrust his hands into his pockets as though worried that he had been too familiar.
Eline heard his words in a flurry of excitement, he thought she was important, he wanted her to call him by his first name.
‘I like your window,’ she said in a voice she didn’t recognize as her own, ‘it’s lovely.’ How banal; why couldn’t she think of something clever to say, something meaningful?
‘Thank you, Eline.’ He spoke her name lingeringly and it was like a caress.
The spell was broken by the return of Carys who took the reins of the horse from Eline’s nerveless fingers.
‘Duw, there’s nice to see a toff like you talking to folks of our like,’ Carys said robustly. ‘And there’s good it is to see a fine boot and shoe shop opening in the village. Could do with a bit of style like them town folk, we could.’
William Davies stepped back apace and smiled easily. ‘I hope we’ll see you as customers someday soon, both of you.’
With a last glance in Eline’s direction, he returned to the other side of the road, his long legs covering the short distance easily. At the doorway of his shop, he turned and, though he didn’t move, his eyes were on Eline as she fell into step beside Carys who was already walking along the street.
‘There’s a lovely young man,’ Carys said. ‘Seems to fancy you, mind.’ There was laughter in her eyes. ‘He don’t know you’re married to the finest man in the village.’
Her words were like a dousing of cold water and Eline gasped. ‘I didn’t think to tell him I was married,’ she said and then added defensively, ‘mind, we were only passing the time of day, didn’t talk about anything personal.’
There had been no need for talk, the feelings transmitted between them had needed no words.
‘Well, no harm in that,’ Carys said good-naturedly, ‘he wants customers. Anyway, he’s got charm, just like I said before and he’s a polite young man. More polite to you than to me, mind.’
‘I suppose so,’ Eline said but she knew that the attraction between Will and herself had been far more than politeness.
The sky had become overcast and grey and Carys looked upwards with a grimace. ‘I hope the rain keeps away,’ she said, ‘otherwise we won’t get many customers.’
Eline hardly heard Carys’s words, she was thinking of Will standing so near her and yet not touching. His very words were a caress and the way he spoke her name made it sound romantic, golden and gleaming with sunlight.
He hadn’t seemed to notice her old shawl or the faded skirt; he had looked into her face and into her eyes and he had touched some hidden spring within her that she had not known she possessed.
The roadway to Swansea seemed to be paved with feathers, the day seemed filled with sunshine and even the rattle of the cart-wheels against the hard ground sounded like the tinkling of bells.
The market as usual was vivid with life. Cockle women sat near the gate, baskets at their feet, scallop shells protruding from the beds of cockles waiting to be scooped, a halfpenny worth at a time, into jugs or dishes.
Farmers from Gower were there as usual with produce brought fresh from the rich earth. They called loudly to each other and to the shoppers passing by.
Looking at the earth-covered potatoes and the solid swedes and rich cabbages Eline felt a dart of homesickness for her own farm up on the Town Hill. But it was not her farm now, she reminded herself sternly, Honey’s Farm had been sold to strangers.
‘Look, here’s my pitch.’ Carys lifted a folding table down from the cart and set it up, swiftly covering it with a snow-white cloth. ‘I’ll put the sacks at the side of you and here’s my tin for taking the money.’ She placed her measuring jug on the white cloth alongside the battered tin which contained some loose change.
‘Will you be long?’ Eline said uneasily. ‘I’m not sure I’m cut out for this.’
‘Duw, there’s a worrier you are.’ Carys hauled a sack down from the cart and the oysters rattled together noisily as though seeking an escape.
‘What if I give the wrong change?’ Eline persisted, glancing round with a feeling of panic.
‘Don’t worry,’ Carys repeated, ‘it wouldn’t be the end of the world. Anyway, you’ll find most people are honest and they’ll put you right quick enough especially if you’ve done them out of a farthing or two.’
She drew her shawl round her big shoulders. ‘I’m going to take Binnie out back to graze and then I’ll go round the stalls. I want to buy some wool and some yards of cloth and a nice rich pie for our dinner and then I’ll be back, all right?’
Eline watched Carys disappear into the crowd and bit her lip wondering why on earth she’d agreed to come in the first place.
Her first customer was a serving girl who bent over the sacks, her fingers raking the oysters diligently.
‘Fresh, are they?’ she said in an off-hand manner that put Eline on the defensive.
‘Naturally,’ she said, ‘just out of the sea a few hours ago. If you want fresher you’ll have to dredge them yourself.’
The girl looked at her sharply. ‘No need to be huffy,’ she said. ‘If I give my master a bad belly, I’ll feel the weight of his boot, mind.’
Eline softened. ‘No need to worry, these oysters are fresh, I promise you.’
‘All right then,’ the girl said grudgingly, ‘fill my dish up, to the top, mind.’
She watched as Eline scooped up the oysters in the measure, and tumbled them into the dish. The girl smiled.
‘You gives a bit more than the other woman,’ she said in satisfaction. ‘Bit on the mean side, she is.’
The girl covered the dish with a cloth and dropped some money in the tin. ‘See yer.’
Eline bit her lip, she must remember next time not to be so generous. She glanced into the tin and saw that the money the girl put in was short by a halfpenny. Well, that was her first lesson in selling, folk might not feel inclined to cheat the more experienced Carys, but Eline must count the money carefully from now on.
Eline looked round the market, a wash of women wandered past, servants from one of the big houses no doubt. Some had children with them, others carried loaded baskets over their arms, all of them were engaged in earnest gossip and suddenly Eline felt lonely.
‘Hello again.’ The voice was warm and low and Eline looked up to see William Davies standing over her. Strangely enough she wasn’t surprised at his sudden appearance in Swansea, indeed she had the sneaking suspicion that he had come especially to see her.
‘Hello.’ Her voice trembled and her cheeks were warm, she felt tongue-tied and stupid, staring up at him, not knowing what to say.
A surge of customers arrived at once; they were pressing around her and flustered, Eline began to serve them.
‘Good shellfish, these.’ One of the women picked up an oyster and examined it. ‘Fresh out of the sea if I’m any judge.’
Eline was caught up in a feeling of panic trying to serve everyone at once. Money was clanging into the tin and she had no idea if the customers were paying honestly or not.
She scooped up oysters from the nearest sack and filled a variety of jugs and dishes, aware that her hair was tumbling out of the restraining ribbons, falling untidily over her face.
‘Duw, there’s a crowd you got by here.’ Carys, solid and reassuring was at her side then, taking over the sale of the oysters with the ease of long practice. Soon the panic was over and Carys put her hand on Eline’s shoulder.
‘Take a breather, do a bit of shopping while you got the chance.’
Eline was only too glad to accept Carys’s offer and, with a quick glance round, moved away from the small table.
She had seen at once that William Davies was still standing on the fringes of the crowd. He smiled as he came to her side.
‘Well, that was rather a hectic few minutes,’ he said. ‘You looked as though you were terrified out of your wits.’
‘I was,’ she replied, pushing back her hair. ‘I was never so glad to see Carys in all my life.’
‘You are not a born oyster maiden then?’ he asked, walking easily at her side as Eline made her way distractedly through stalls she didn’t even see.
‘No, I was raised on a farm.’ She risked a glance at him and the colour flooded into her cheeks once more at the look in his eyes. ‘I’m just an ordinary woman.’
‘No, not ordinary,’ Will said. ‘You are so beautiful, Eline, and so vulnerable, I want to take you away and look after you.’
Eline lowered her head, now was the time to tell him she was married, that she had someone to take care of her, she had Joe. And yet the words would not pass her lips.
‘There is something I can’t explain,’ Will continued, ‘a feeling between us that I’ve never experienced before. You feel it too, don’t you?’
Eline nodded, but she couldn’t speak. They stood still in the middle of the crowded market and stared at each other as though each was trying to memorize the other’s face.
Will held out his hand as though he would touch her and then he let it drop to his side. ‘What is it, Eline? Is there something you are not telling me?’
Eline took a ‘deep breath and knew that she couldn’t tell him, she didn’t want to break the magical, fragile bond that was growing between them.
‘I must go,’ she said. ‘I have to think things out, please let me be.’ She turned and hurried away from him and when she glanced over her shoulder, he had gone, swallowed up in the crowd.
The hours seemed to drag after that. Eline and Carys shared a pie, snatching the food between serving customers. Then, at last, the oyster sacks were empty, lying limply on the ground. Carys lifted her tin heavy with money and sighed contentedly.
‘Time to fold up the table,’ Carys said, ‘there won’t be any more customers today.’
Eline sighed with relief; she had been on edge, her eyes searching the crowds, seeing William Davies’s build and bearing a hundred times, only to find out it wasn’t him at all.
