by Iris Gower
Carys transferred the money from the tin into a huge pocket beneath her apron and then folded the empty sacks and handed them to Eline. ‘Let’s pop round the back, fetch the horse and cart,’ she said. ‘We can ride a bit of the way back home, give our legs a rest.’
Binnie was contentedly chewing the grass at the edge of the roadway. Carys untied the reins from round the bark of a tree and stroked the animal’s ears.
‘Good girl, Binnie, come on, we’re going home.’ She threw the sacks on to the back of the cart and led the horse out on to the roadway.
‘Jump up on the cart,’ Carys said, lifting her skirts and hauling herself on board. The cart swayed dangerously as Eline carefully climbed up beside her.
‘Not a bad day’s work,’ Carys said, running her hands through the coins in her pocket. ‘Hope my Sam got a good catch this trip out, got a special customer over at Caswell, a man that runs a tavern, been taking a lot of Sam’s oysters lately, mind.’
The sky overhead was darkening, rain clouds seemed to be gathering over the entire bay, hovering over the craggy headland of Mumbles that was mistily visible from the Oystermouth Road.
Carys sighed. ‘I spects I’ll have a lot of work on the perches when Sam comes back, laying down them oysters is a back-breaking business.’ She glanced at Eline.
‘Your Joe don’t let you do that though, do he?’ she said, eyebrows raised. ‘That’s one mistake you should put right.’ She sighed. ‘Still, you don’t know you’re born having a man like Joe.’
Eline was scarcely listening but she made an effort to appear interested. ‘I suppose I am lucky.’ She glanced at Carys trying to give the conversation some of her attention. ‘Why will you be laying down oysters this trip, then?’
‘Well, I spects most of the big oysters have been dredged by now and the catch will be too small to sell, so the oysters will go on the perches to grow up a bit, see. Them oysters that are big enough to go to market tomorrow or the next day or perhaps next week they’ll stay fresh and lively on the perches under the sea for a time.’
She glanced at Eline. ‘Your Joe should let you work the perches and the plantations instead of having that hussy Nina Park and her girls to do it,’ she said. ‘Then you would be used to the ways of the village, you’d be a worker like the rest of us instead of keeping house like a little china doll.’
Eline looked up quickly wondering if Carys was criticizing her, but there was such a look of frankness on the woman’s face that it was clear she was just speaking her mind with no malice intended.
‘You’re right, Carys, I must talk to Joe again, try to persuade him to let me do some of the work.’ She paused. ‘I know he feels a bit responsible for the Parks because Nina’s husband was his friend.’
‘Is that what he told you?’ Carys said, her dark eyebrows raised. ‘Well, it’s not for me to tittle-tattle between husband and wife, but Nina’s got a son at sea. He should come home and be responsible for her and the girls, not Joe. I’d keep an eye on things there if I was you.’
‘What do you mean?’ Eline asked quietly but Carys was clucking at Binnie, shaking up the reins and urging the horse to a trot.
Eline shrugged; there was so much that had happened in Joe’s life before she was even born that it was pointless speculating about his past.
A salty breeze was coming in from the sea, lifting the untidy strands of hair from Eline’s forehead, tugging at the ribbons, whipping them across her face. She glanced to her left where the tide was bringing in the rain and bit her lip worriedly.
‘I wonder if the men will be in soon,’ Eline said. ‘I hope they won’t stay out all night, it looks as if there might be a storm.’
‘Those men know the sea in all her moods,’ Carys answered. ‘My Sam will never know my moods like he does those of the waters around Oystermouth.’
The horse was picking up speed now, trotting eagerly along the home stretch, sensing the nearness of home. The cart bucked over the hard cobbles and Eline felt the coldness of the wind against her face.
As the cart rolled along past the shops, Eline avoided looking at the boot and shoe shop fearful of seeing Will standing in the doorway. Why did she have to feel this way about a man who was a stranger to her? It was foolish and it was a sin against Joe and her marriage vows.
And yet, as the row of tiny cottages where she lived came into sight, Eline could not resist glancing back over her shoulder at the shops disappearing in the gloom. She thought she saw a lean figure of a man watching her from a doorway but she could not be sure it was William Davies. She saw an arm lift in greeting and responded at once and suddenly she was warm inside. It was Will and he had been looking out for her return.
‘What’s up with you, Eline?’ Carys asked drily. ‘You look as if you’d lost a farthing and found a shilling.’
‘Just happy to be home,’ Eline said quietly. She folded her arms around her breasts as if she was hugging a secret to herself and her eyes watched the figure in the shop doorway until it was no longer in sight.
CHAPTER FOUR
‘You must never let our Tom know the truth.’ Nina Parks stood in the small kitchen, her hands folded across her spotless apron, staring up defiantly at Joe. ‘It would bring shame on the boy to know he was born out of wedlock.’
Joe felt a knot of anger within him; this was an argument he’d had with Nina many times and, as usual, she would not budge an inch.
‘But I need my son,’ he said, making an effort to be reasonable. ‘Can’t you see he could have a fine future sailing the Oyster Sunrise for me?’
‘Tom may be your natural son,’ Nina’s lips trembled, ‘but you have never given him your name, have you, Joe?’
Joe looked away from her, guilt searing him. He rubbed his hand over his eyes. ‘I was young, frightened, I couldn’t face the thought of a wife and a child.’
‘But I could?’ Nina said, her voice rising. ‘I could manage the shame of it all, could I? Duw!’ she went on, ‘if it wasn’t for that good man giving me his name I would have been an outcast in the village and you know it.’
‘I know how good Kevin Parks was,’ Joe said softly, ‘he was my best friend, remember?’
‘I know,’ Nina’s voice softened. ‘He would do anything for you, even take on me and my bastard.’
‘Don’t say that!’ Joe felt pain at her brutal words. ‘I let you down, but Tom is still my son and nothing will ever change that.’
‘Sit down, Joe,’ Nina said, relaxing a little. ‘Let me talk to you while the girls are out and we have the chance.’
Joe seated himself at the kitchen table, big arms resting on the boards, waiting for the lecture that must surely come. He knew he’d been weak, he’d turned his back on her when twenty years ago Nina had come to him tremulously and told him she was with child. How could he, the man, excuse what the boy had done?
‘Listen,’ Nina reached out and rested her hand on his. He glanced down at the reddened, weathered hands, the hands of an honest working woman and felt pity wash over him.
‘It’s like this,’ Nina continued. ‘Tom never knew that you were his father, you know that. To him Kevin was his dad always.’ She stared into his face earnestly. ‘What would Tom think of you if he knew the truth?’
‘I don’t know,’ Joe replied moodily. ‘Perhaps now is the time to find out.’
‘No!’ Nina said. ‘He would hate you. Tom is a young man with no tolerance, he would never forgive you for deserting us both, can’t you see that?’
Joe sighed. ‘But Nina, he can have a great future as my son, he can sail the Oyster Sunrise, take charge of the skiff and the crew, be his own man.’
‘And when your young wife gives you other sons,’ Nina asked softly, ‘what will you do then?’
Joe sat back in his seat, confused; he had not thought that far ahead.
‘It would be years before any such sons could sail for me,’ he said.
‘Agreed, but what about their inheritance? Would you take
from Eline’s son to give to mine?’
‘Tom shall have what is just,’ Joe said with less certainty.
‘And how will you do that?’ Nina said. ‘You may have six sons in a few years’ time. It’s all in the hands of the good Lord, isn’t it?’
‘I need a son now!’ Joe was growing impatient and more than a little uneasy at the turn the conversation had taken. Feelings he had kept hidden even from his self rose to the surface.
He had been married to Eline long enough to have filled her with child and God knows it wasn’t from want of trying. With Nina, it had all happened so easily.
It had been summer, the scents of roses perfumed the air and the grass was sweet and lush. They had lain together in the soft darkness, hearing the call of the owl and clinging together as though they would never part. And then, a few weeks later, she had come to him whey-faced and tearful and he ran.
When he’d returned to the village, Nina was married to Kevin Parks and had given birth prematurely, so it was said, to a fine boy.
Nina touched his hand again, her eyes soft as if she, too, was remembering. ‘It was good, wasn’t it?’ she said with a break in her voice. ‘I loved you then, Joe, and I’ve loved you ever since, you know that.’
His hand closed around hers. ‘And I’ve tried to make it up to you since Kevin died,’ he said.
‘I know,’ Nina nodded, ‘if it wasn’t for you, Joe, I’d have been left with nothing but debts and four children to take into the workhouse.’
She leaned forward and rested her lips against his cheek. ‘And I’d have been a lonely widow without you, Joe,’ she said. It seemed that no sooner had Kevin fathered the girls than he was taken by the good Lord and you it was who helped me through the bad times.’ She rose then and moved to the hob, pushing the kettle on to the flames.
‘We’re getting all sentimental and silly,’ she sighed, ‘but since you’ve been married, I’ve missed you, Joe.’
He looked at her, a woman of his own age who knew how to please a man. She was robust, experienced and knew what he liked.
Suddenly the memories overcame him and he rose and went to her, taking her in his arms. ‘Nina!’ He buried his face in the warmth of her neck and, at once, her hands were busy, familiar as they touched him intimately.
Joe stopped thinking and gave way to his senses. He wanted Nina, her strong body, her passionate responses like a thirsty man wanted water.
‘Not here,’ she whispered, ‘come on upstairs.’ She led the way and he followed, his hands round her body from behind, cupping her breasts.
The room was as familiar as his own, he drew her to the bed and helped Nina unfasten her bodice. Her breasts, full and round, sprung from the confines of the cotton and, greedily, he held them, his mouth finding the erect nipples.
Nina moaned; she always did respond most gratifyingly to his love making. He caressed her ardently, her eyes were closed, her cheeks flushed, she really was a lovely, earthy woman, his kind of woman, he thought in surprise.
‘Come on, Joe, my love,’ she whispered, ‘give me your vigour like you used to, I’ve waited so long.’
When he came to her, she cried out in joy and he felt power surge through him. Joe was in charge, guiding Nina through the course of love and passion, bringing her to sobbing fulfilment.
And then the starburst came to him, searing him, drowning him. He was lost in the sweet sensation that he felt he could kill-for. And later, as he rested beside Nina, he felt as though he had come home.
April was almost out, the blossoms were beginning to come to the trees. Hari Grenfell stared through the window of Summer Lodge and counted her blessings. She had achieved such wonderful things in her life and most dear was her happy marriage to Craig.
Behind her she could hear her son repeat his lessons in a bright intelligent voice. Mr Barnes was an excellent tutor and had been with the family for some time. David was a small boy eager to learn and when he was older, he would go away to school just as his father had done.
Hari shivered a little, not wanting to think of being parted from David, she needed him with her always at her side. But that was not the way the gentry lived and, even if she would never truly be one of them, Hari knew her son must be given every advantage so that he might live up to his father’s expectations.
She moved from the window and went over to her son. David stared up at her, his dark eyes so like Craig’s that love swept over her. She longed to kiss and hug him, but she knew that David, even at his tender age, would be mortified at such a display of affection in front of his tutor.
‘I’ll leave you now,’ she said gently. ‘I’m going to Oystermouth to see William, be good for Mr Barnes, David, learn your lesson well because your father will want to know what you’ve been doing today, mind.’
In the hallway, Jenny held her coat and gloves at the ready, the maid’s good-natured young face wreathed in smiles.
‘Shall I take some refreshment to Mr Barnes?’ she said artlessly. ‘And to young master David, of course.’
Hari hid a smile, Jenny’s fascination with the serious young tutor was well known both below and above stairs.
‘That would be very kind, Jenny.’ Hari stared into the mirror and adjusted her hat, thrusting the long enamelled pin through the velvet to secure it. The spring winds could be wicked along the coast.
She stood still for a moment, staring at her reflection; her hair was dark and tamed now by good cutting, it no longer flared over her shoulders in an unruly cloud.
Hari was no longer the girl from the slums of World’s End, but the rich and successful Mrs Grenfell who had a string of boot and shoe shops to her credit. She had worked hard for them by the sweat of her brow and by using her initiative and her flair for design.
It was true that her husband was also a rich business man, for Craig owned the Grenfell and Briant Leather Company, but Craig’s business was quite separate from Hari’s. That way there was a mutual respect between them as well as a deep and abiding love.
Jenny, impatient to spend a few minutes with her idol, held open the large front door and Hari stepped outside into the brightness of the morning.
The carriage was waiting for her and the footman respectfully helped her inside. ‘We’re going to Oystermouth.’ Hari eased on her gloves. ‘Tell the driver not to travel too fast, I want to look at the scenery.’
The road winding from Swansea to Oystermouth was right on the edge of the sea. The bay curved in a golden sweep that culminated in the outcrop of rocks at Mumbles Head. It was a beautiful drive, especially on a morning such as this when the promise of blossoms budded on the trees and the scents of spring drifted in through the open carriage window.
Hari relaxed against the leather seat, her eyes closed as she breathed in the soft scents of spring. The clip-clop of the horses’ hoofs against the road was soothing. She was so happy that sometimes that happiness frightened her. It seemed too good to last and yet hadn’t she had her share of unhappiness in the past?
When Hari alighted outside the shop on the main street of Oystermouth Village, she gave her driver instructions to take some time off, once he had seen to the animals. He would be free to drink ale in one of the inns along the shore.
‘Hari!’ Will came forward, his hands held out to her, his smile wide and welcoming. ‘What do you think of the window display? I did it myself.’
Hari stood back admiring the line of boots that appeared to be marching across the bed of silk. She nodded her head.
‘Very impressive,’ she squeezed his hand, ‘but then I always did think you had many talents, Will.’
His eyes were warm as they rested on her and Hari felt once more that the two of them could not be closer had they been brother and sister.
‘Anything I have achieved, I owe to you,’ Will said softly. ‘I’ll always be grateful to you, Hari.’
‘Duw! There’s no need for gratitude.’ Hari lapsed into her old way of talking; with Will she could be herself, the Har
i who struggled her way to the top of her profession with sheer hard work and determination.
Inside, the shop was clean and sweet smelling, the few chairs artfully arranged to give the maximum comfort. Will led Hari forward.
‘Look, I’ve got in a stock of men’s working boots as well as some sensible boots for ladies. I’ve decided that this shop will be more practical than the ones in Swansea because this is essentially a working, seafaring village.’ He smiled. ‘The toffs will go to your place as they usually do.’
‘Have you been busy?’ Hari asked. She so wanted William to make a success of this, his first business venture. She herself had put up some of the funding for the shop, but, basically, it was Will’s own enterprise and she wanted only the best for him.
‘It’s not been bad for the first few weeks,’ he said, ‘though much of the stuff is coming in for repair which is what I had anticipated.’ He smiled. ‘I’ve managed to get a damn good cobbler, an old chap from the village. Pendry doesn’t say much but he’s a good worker. I supply the leather and he does the cobbling at home, it should work very well.’
Hari sat on one of the chairs as the door opened and a stocky woman wrapped in a gleaming apron and wearing a woollen shawl came into the shop. ‘Looks like you have a customer, Will,’ she said lightly.
She watched as William smiled as warmly as though the woman was dressed in finest silk and marvelled at the charm he possessed. She felt a sense of pride; Will had more than proved himself worthy of faith in him and she felt sure he was destined for great things.
‘Hello, Mr Davies, we met the other day, Carys Morgan.’ The woman was used to the fresh salt air, Hari could tell by the ruddy glow to her cheeks and the weather-beaten arms that jutted from rolled-back sleeves.
‘I remember, you were on your way to market with your oysters,’ Will said pleasantly. ‘What can I do for you, Mrs Morgan?’
‘I need some new boots,’ Carys Morgan said beaming widely. ‘My Sam’s been having good catches lately and now the dredging season is coming to an end I’d better get what I need before my husband complains there’s no money.’
