by Iris Gower
Hari was aware that the woman was regarding her with open curiosity and she found herself warming to the wide eyes and happy smile that seemed to be Carys Morgan’s usual expression.
‘Bore da,’ she said in Welsh and Mrs Morgan’s smile, if anything, grew wider.
‘Bore da, madam.’ She spoke almost shyly, overwhelmed by the fine clothes Hari was wearing. Little did she know that once Hari had been much poorer than ever Carys Morgan was.
William brought out a selection of boots and while he was fitting them kept up a pleasant conversation.
‘These are the latest fashion, fine and smart, but very practical.’ He smiled warmly. ‘As you know we get a great deal of salt winds here at Oystermouth,’ he continued, ‘but these boots are stout enough to keep out even the worst of the elements.’
Carys was quite enchanted. She stood up and turned her ankle, admiring the buttoned boots with wide eyes. ‘Duw, they’re lovely, but I don’t suppose I can afford anything so fine.’
‘These are not so expensive as you might think.’ Will had lowered his tone confidentially. ‘And for the first few weeks only I have a special price for my customers.’
Hari hid a smile. This was obviously an idea that had hit William on the spur of the moment, but it was a good ploy and perhaps he should expand on it a little, put a poster in the window to advertise his offer.
I’ll have them then,’ Carys said excitedly. ‘My Sam loves a bargain, not that he’s mean, mind, but he’s that careful with his money, his pocket’s as hard to open as the oysters he dredges.’ She rose to her feet looking wistfully at the boots. ‘I’ll call back later then and bring the money with me.’ It was clear that the boots, though reasonable in price, were more expensive than Carys Morgan had anticipated.
‘Please take the boots now, Mrs Morgan,’ Will said in his most charming voice. That, Hari thought, was a very good move; Carys Morgan would be doubly grateful to him now.
When Will had wrapped the boots, Carys held them to her as though they were something precious. And so they were, Hari told herself. Had she so readily forgotten the thrill of having new boots and she a cobbler’s daughter?
It was almost time for luncheon when Will decided to close the shop. ‘Perhaps you would like to look at the books for me, Hari,’ he said smiling, ‘give me an insight about managing figures.’
Hari warmed with pride. She was happy that William wanted her to know all aspects of his business and she was certainly used to figures. She had coped well enough with all her own book work at the beginning of her career.
Hari walked along the street with William admiring the soft expanse of sea that washed in from Swansea Bay. His lodgings were situated in a tall, elegant building with gleaming windows and crisp, clean curtains. Mrs Marsh herself was a picture of an ideal landlady; she was neat and fresh-cheeked and she looked at Hari with blue, shrewd eyes before bobbing a curtsy and inviting her into the best parlour.
Hari took to the woman at once. ‘I see you are looking after William as though he was a son,’ she said gratefully and Mrs Marsh smiled, patting her already neat hair, embarrassed at the compliment.
Will brought her the books and Hari’s experienced eyes took in the figures, seeing at once that William would not begin to make a profit for some months, but that was only to be expected with a new business.
‘You have kept your outlay to a minimum,’ she said approvingly, ‘and as the rent for the premises has been paid in advance, you will have little further outlay for some time to come.’
She sighed. ‘You know, Will, you are much better equipped than I was when I started out. How I had the courage to go to Mr Fisher that time and take on the building at World’s End with no capital at all, I don’t know.’
‘It payed off though, didn’t it?’ Will spoke admiringly. ‘You have guts, Hari, you always have had what it takes to succeed.’
‘I didn’t know that then,’ Hari replied, ‘it was one big leap in the dark. I took on the shop and the house without putting a penny down, but by the end of the month, I had enough to pay the rent, by some miracle.’
‘No miracle, it was all due to your hard work and daring,’ Will said.
‘I had good friends to help me, mind.’ Hari smiled. ‘Cleg the Coal’s wife brought me bedding she’d begged from the big houses and Meg and Charlie Briant had a hand in my success. I owe a lot of people a great deal, including you, Will.’
She closed the books and put them down on the sofa. beside her, leaning forward eagerly. ‘I want you to succeed too, Will, I know you can do it.’
‘I hope so.’ He moved to the door. ‘Now, I’m going to get us some refreshment from Mrs Marsh, I think we both need some luncheon to sustain us. I have to return to the fray this afternoon, I haven’t yet found a salesman, remember.’
The sun was high overhead when Hari and Will returned to the shop. The carriage was waiting for Hari outside the doors with the driver dozing in his seat.
With a sense of concern, Hari saw Carys Morgan leaning against the doorway, her face pale, an upturned basket of groceries at her feet.
William had seen at once that something was wrong and moved forward to support Carys, handing the keys of the shop to Hari. ‘Let’s get her inside,’ he said urgently.
When Carys was seated in a chair, William brought her a glass of water and held it to her white lips. ‘There you go, don’t be frightened,’ William said consolingly, ‘you are going to be all right.’
Carys opened her eyes. ‘Duw,’ her voice was faint, ‘I feel so bad.’ She rubbed her face. ‘Bringing you the money for the boots, I was and I came over all funny, like.’
Hari gestured to Will. ‘Tell the driver to get ready to take Mrs Morgan back to her home,’ she said meaningfully.
When she was alone with Carys, Hari bent over her sympathetically. ‘I’m sure there’s nothing really wrong with you. Have you felt bad like this before?’
‘A couple of mornings lately,’ Carys said in bewilderment. ‘I’ve been that sickly when I first get up that it’s a job to get to the beach to help my Sam with the oysters.’
Hari smiled. ‘I expect you’ve missed your courses too, haven’t you?’
Carys looked at her in amazement. ‘How did you know that?’ she said.
Hari sighed. ‘Because I’m a mother, I’ve had a child myself and I think you’re expecting a baby, Mrs Morgan.’
Carys shook her head at once. ‘No, I’m barren, I can’t have babbas.’
‘Who told you that?’ Hari asked. ‘You’ve got a husband, haven’t you?’
‘Aye, I’ve got a man all right, but I’ve had him for three years and more and haven’t caught for a child.’ She rubbed at her cheek. ‘Mind, no one told me I was barren, but my two older sisters have never had children and I thought I was going to be the same after all this time.’
‘Three years isn’t very long,’ Hari said reasonably, ‘and you’re not very old, are you?’
Carys Morgan sighed. ‘I feel old, I’m coming up to twenty-nine years of age now, mind.’ A warmth came into her eyes. ‘Could it be true, could I be with child? My Sam would be thrilled to bits if I was.’
‘You will have to see the doctor I expect,’ Hari said, ‘but I don’t think there’s any doubt, there’s a look, something about the eyes.’
William returned and Hari smiled at him and nodded. ‘We are going to take you home in the carriage,’ Hari said gently. ‘I think you’d be better off by your own fireside now.’
‘It’s all right, madam,’ Carys said. ‘I only live a little bit further along the street, you could spit the distance from here.’
‘Never mind that,’ Hari said firmly. ‘We can’t have one of our customers fainting away in the street, can we?’
Carys looked round in awe as she was helped inside the coach. ‘Duw, will you look at that fine leather then?’ she said admiringly. ‘There’s lovely it is.’
To Hari’s surprise, Will climbed into the coach beside C
arys. ‘Do you think I should ask your friend Eline to come in and take care of you until your husband comes home?’ he asked hopefully and Hari bit her lip to hide her smile.
Carys looked doubtful but Will pressed home the point. ‘I’m sure you’d like company just now, someone to have a cup of tea and a gossip with.’
‘Aye, perhaps you’re right,’ she said, ‘no one else in the street would think anything of having a babbi, they haves them all the time. Eline will likely be happy for me, she’s such a nice girl.’
It took only a minute or two to reach the row of fishermen’s cottages slanting up the steep hill leading from the main road and Hari was no longer surprised when Will jumped out of the carriage and carefully helped Carys Morgan into the street. Now he would find out where this dream girl of his lived.
When Hari saw Eline come out on to the step, her hair dishevelled into a cloud of curls around her shoulders, her small frame enveloped in an apron, she was reminded of herself as she had once been and a sense of nostalgia brought tears to her eyes.
She leaned out of the coach and watched as Eline took Carys’s arm and led her gently indoors. When Will returned, he was glowing.
‘Did you see her, Hari, isn’t she lovely?’ He sank down in the seat, his eyes staring wistfully towards the cottage.
‘Yes,’ Hari said softly, ‘she is lovely.’ She lowered her head. How could she tell William that on the girl’s slender finger there had been a flash of gold. Eline, Will’s dream girl, was married.
CHAPTER FIVE
An early sun streamed in through the window of the small, neat kitchen, dappling the still wet flagstones of the floor with patterns of pale light. Eline, seated in an upright, wooden kitchen chair, smiled across the scrubbed table at Carys whose face was wreathed in smiles.
‘It’s true then,’ Eline said softly, ‘you are going to have a baby?’
Carys clasped her hands together and nodded her head vigorously. ‘Aye, Dr Thomas says I’m three months gone. I still can’t believe it.’
Eline rose as the kettle hissed steam into the kitchen. ‘I’ll make us some tea.’ She spoke absently, thinking of the moment a few days earlier when William Davies had brought Carys home. He had knocked on Eline’s door and then stepped into her kitchen and for once Eline had been grateful for the hours she spent on her hands and knees cleaning the place.
William had stood close to Eline, telling her in soft words that he would be grateful if she came next door to stay with Carys, but all the time his eyes had been caressing her.
Eline had wanted to reach out for him, to hold him close, to kiss his strong mouth. She became aware that the kettle was still sending clouds of steam into her kitchen to run down the whitewashed walls like tears. Quickly, she made the tea.
‘Have you told Sam yet?’ she asked, bringing the cups to the table. Carys shook her head.
‘I wanted to be sure as God made little oysters that I was expecting. I didn’t want to build up Sam’s hopes if there was any doubt.’
‘Talking about oysters,’ Eline said, ‘you shouldn’t go lifting those sacks any more, Sam should get someone to help you.’
Carys laughed. ‘You must be daft if you think Sam would spend a brass farthing on help for me! All men are not like your Joe, mind, ready to pay out hand over fist for another woman to do the work a wife should rightfully be doing.’
She put her hand over her mouth and looked sheepishly over her plump fingers at Eline. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said at last. ‘I know it’s not your doing that Joe pays Nina and her girls to work the plantations and perches. I didn’t mean any harm.’
‘I’m not a bit offended.’ Eline drank some of her tea gladly for her mouth was suddenly dry.
‘Carys,’ she said slowly, ‘is there anything I should know about Nina Parks?’ She spoke softly, without anger, and yet Eline felt somehow that Carys was trying to warn her.
Carys’s eyebrows jerked upward and then she composed herself.
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she said, but her eyes looked everywhere except at Eline.
‘There’s something going on,’ Eline said. ‘Joe seems preoccupied and when I asked him about a crew for the new boat he just shook his head and refused to say anything.’
‘I expect Joe wants the boy to be the master of the Oyster Sunrise,’ Carys said slowly and then stared down at her cup as though she’d said too much.
‘The boy? Do you mean Nina Parks’s son, Carys?’ Of course she did and Eline didn’t wait for confirmation. ‘But I thought the Parks boy was out deep-sea fishing; why should he come home to work off shore?’
Carys didn’t reply, but there was a look of acute embarrassment on her honest, open face.
‘And why should Joe want him anyway when there are plenty of good men in Oystermouth just waiting for a chance to skipper a boat like the Oyster Sunrise?’
‘Ask your husband.’ Carys folded her lips into a prim line and it was clear she intended to say no more on the subject.
Eline sighed. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be trying to make you gossip about people, Carys, but you must admit that Nina Parks is a bit of a mystery woman.’
Carys drank her tea and placed the cup back in the saucer with a clink of finality. ‘I’d better be getting some work done.’ She rose to her feet. ‘There’s oysters to be washed ready for market and my Sam won’t thank me for sitting about like Lady Muck while he’s out in the bay working.’
Eline followed her to the door. ‘You should be taking things easy,’ she said softly. ‘Perhaps I can help you wash the oysters; what do you think?’
Carys shook her head. ‘No, you stay by here in your house where you belong.’ It was clear that Carys had no wish to be put in a position where she might feel beholden.
Eline watched as Carys moved across the road and down on to the beach. The sun was warming the sea into a soft glints of azure and the sand was shading from palest gold to umber as the waves reached hungrily for the shore.
Soon it would be summer and the oyster season would be over until September.
Eline returned to the table and poured more tea from the pot, sighing heavily. She sank down into a chair and stared ahead of her knowing quite suddenly that she was no longer content to be Joe’s pet, a little tame housewife washing and scrubbing and attending to Joe’s needs. It simply wasn’t enough for her. She must do something positive with her time or stultify.
Eline picked up her basket and moved towards the door; she would go to the shops, perhaps some fresh air would clear her mind. There must be work for her somewhere, something she could do to make herself useful.
The air was clear and fresh and the salt scents of the sea drifted to where Eline walked along the village street. It was not a long street, it curved from where the oyster boats lay at off-season like a shoal of stranded fish to where the hill turned and rose upwards towards the ruins of the castle.
Taking her time, Eline nevertheless knew that she was making for the newly opened boot and shoe shop. She did not dare to question herself too deeply about her motives and yet the tingle of excitement as she neared the double-fronted building was unmistakable.
She stopped outside looking up at the newly painted sign overhead. WILLIAM DAVIES BOOT AND SHOE STORE. The very look of his name in golden paint on a black background made Eline tremble.
She allowed her eyes to rest on the merchandise within the windows; stout, solid boots rested on a bed of sprinkled sand with a starfish and some shells scattered around for effect. Then the handwritten vacancy notice caught her eye and she drew in a sharp breath. Her head seemed to spin, questions raced through her head. Dare she, did she have the courage to apply for the job and even if she did, what would Joe say?
‘Good morning,’ the voice was low and musical, ‘come to apply for the vacancy, have you?’ William stood smiling down at her and in the glow of the morning sunlight, he looked so appealing, so wonderful that, for a moment, Eline couldn’t speak.
‘The
job,’ he said softly, ‘it’s yours if you want it.’ He stepped aside. ‘Come indoors and we can discuss it.’
Eline followed him into the shop and, for a moment, the room was a long, dark abyss after the glare of the sunlight. She stumbled and William caught her arm and held on to her for a moment. Eline, looking up at him, felt a wash of emotion that was so strange that she almost gasped out loud.
‘What would I have to do?’ Eline found her voice. ‘I’ve never worked in a shop, mind, I would probably make a fool of myself.’
‘No, you wouldn’t,’ he said with conviction. ‘I need a lady assistant and all you would have to do is help customers to make up their minds about what kind of footwear they want.’
‘I don’t know,’ Eline said doubtfully, ‘don’t shop assistants have to live in?’
‘In some cases it is appropriate,’ Will agreed, ‘but I want someone who lives locally who would go home at nights because I have no living accommodation on the premises.’
He smiled down at her, his eyes alight, as though he was more intent on drinking in her closeness than in what he was saying.
‘I would be able to pay six shillings a week and, of course, the job would only be for a moderate few hours a day. I wouldn’t expect you to work from dawn till dusk.’
It was so tempting. Eline looked up at William and smiled, resisting the urge to lean against him, to beg him to take her in his arms and ride away with her on a white horse. Such nonsense was not for a respectably married woman.
It was as if a bucketful of cold water had been thrown over her head. Eline gasped. What about Joe? What would he have to say about her mad idea of working in a shop? Then she became calmer. Joe could not keep her locked up like a doll in a case; she must be her own person like the rest of the women in Oystermouth. Not one of her neighbours lived the dull, restricted life she did.
‘I’ll take it,’ she said quickly. ‘Shall I start right away?’
