by Iris Gower
She hauled at the sack, perhaps the incoming sea would help lighten the load so that Eline could make it to higher ground. She paused, head sinking low as she stared in anger at the washing waves that threatened her. She was useless, Joe would be better off without her. Perhaps she should just let the sea take her.
Eline was so numb that she was unaware of a tall figure running along the sand towards her, urgently calling her name. She was ready to sink beneath the waves, she would not relinquish the oysters she’d slaved over for hours, they would not be given back to the sea.
Strong hands were dragging her backwards then and even though the water sucked at her, dragging her down, she was lifted upwards out of the coldness.
Numbly she saw that it was Will Davies holding her and wearily, she rested her head against his shoulder. It was so good to be in his arms, so right.
‘The oysters,’ she said and her voice was cracking with weariness.
‘I’ve got them.’ Carys’s round face peered at her. ‘Me and some of the other women saw the fix you were in and called for help. You got guts, love, hanging on to the catch like you did with the tide coming in fast.’
Dimly, Eline was aware of the women dragging the sack along the beach on to the high shoreline and safety. With a sigh, she resigned herself to the darkness that was pressing down on her.
When she opened her eyes, she was lying in her own bed and Carys was bending over her with a cup of steaming milk in her hand.
‘Come on, girl, we all want you to get better, you got to work in the morning, mind.’ Her voice was cheerful but there was sympathy in every line of her broad face. It was clear she felt that the oyster perches was the last place a girl like Eline should be.
Eline drank some of the milk and pushed herself up against the pillows. ‘Will, Mr Davies, he got me out of the water, didn’t he?’ she asked, remembering the feel of his arms warm and protective around her.
‘Aye, he did that,’ Carys said admiringly. ‘I called to him to come and once he saw the trouble you were in, he was down the beach like a flash. Didn’t give a fig for his best boots nor nothing, soaked his suit, he did, but he carried you out of the sea like a hero.’ Carys’s expression was rapturous. ‘Lord, I wished I was you for a minute there.’
‘The oysters, Carys, I didn’t want to lose them.’ Eline took another drink of the hot milk feeling the strength returning to her weary limbs.
‘I know and much admired you are for your guts, mind. Once I started my bawling for help, the other women came out of the cottages, see, and I tell you, gone up a notch in their eyes you have.’
Eline sighed. ‘I was a failure.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I nearly lost the lot, I think I’d should have left it all to Nina Parks and her girls after all.’
‘Rubbish!’ Carys said indignantly. ‘And give that old crow more reason to gloat.’
Eline remembered then. Nina Parks had borne Joe a son, she had informed everyone on the beach about it, laid bare the matters that should have been kept private.
Eline looked up at Carys. ‘Everyone knew about Joe and her, didn’t they? Everyone but me, that is.’
‘Aye, most of us suspected the truth anyway because Nina married in haste and gave birth to what she claimed was a premature baby boy.’ Carys sighed. ‘Now Nina has brought it all out into the open and I don’t know what Joe is going to make of it when he gets in from the fishing, I’m sure.’
‘Well, he must take what’s coming to him,’ Eline said acidly. ‘He made his bed with the woman and he must face up to the consequences.’
It was no wonder Joe had always been so protective about Nina and her family, guilt must lie heavily on his shoulders, Eline thought angrily.
Carys gave her a strange look. ‘Tolerance is a good thing in a marriage, mind,’ she said softly. ‘Remember what the good book says, “let them that are without sin cast the first stone”?’
Eline was silent; it was all very well for Carys to be forgiving, it wasn’t her Sam who had fathered a son on another woman.
The fleet of skiffs came in with the morning tide and Eline, along with the other women, was on the beach to welcome the men home. The Emmeline was first to nose into the shelter of the harbour and before Eline could move, she saw Nina Parks push out the open row boat and head for where the skiff was dropping anchor.
Soon, a flotilla of small boats was heading like chicks towards a mother hen, the women rowing with the ease born of long practice towards the skiffs.
Impotently, Eline stood fuming on the beach, knowing that Nina was getting her version of the quarrel over to Joe before he landed.
It took some time to transfer the load of oysters from the skiff to the open boats and Eline grew chilled as she waited for Joe to row to the shore, the small boat low in the water, heavy with oysters.
He headed up the beach and caught Eline’s arm, leading her towards the cottage, his face set and white.
‘The catch,’ Eline protested, ‘I must get the oysters clean and packed.’
Joe didn’t speak, he almost pushed her into the house and closed the door behind him. ‘Sit down.’ His voice was almost unrecognizable, with a hard edge of anger. ‘I have something to say to you.’
Eline sat, staring in awe at this stranger who was her husband, this was a side of Joe she had never seen before. He’d flown into tempers and raised his voice now and again, but never had she seen this quiet, terrible anger on his face.
‘I don’t want you or anyone else going over my name in public, do you hear?’ He leaned against the door and dragged off his cap, throwing it on to the table.
‘What has Nina Parks been telling you?’ Eline lifted her chin challengingly. ‘A pack of lies, I suppose.’
‘I don’t want to discuss it,’ Joe said, ‘but I will say this, what happened in my life before you and me were married is none of your concern, understand?’
‘So, having a baby by another woman is not my business?’ Outrage caused Eline’s voice to rise to an almost hysterical pitch.
‘No, it is not!’ Joe said. He sank down at the table and held out his booted foot. Eline stared at him without moving.
‘Take your own boots off!’ she said. ‘Or else go to Nina Parks, she seems to have supplied most of your needs.’
Joe rose in a swift movement and his hand lashed out catching Eline’s cheek. She reeled away almost falling to the ground.
Slowly she straightened and stared at her husband. ‘Don’t you dare do that, not ever!’ she said in a low voice. ‘I will leave you flat, Joe, if you ever lay a hand on me again, I mean it. I never had abuse from my father and I won’t take it from you. I’ll leave you, I swear I will.’
He rose to his feet and stared down at her almost disdainfully. ‘And where would you go? You have no money and no skills, you wouldn’t last five minutes without my protection.’
He moved to the door and opened it quietly. ‘Don’t bother going down to the beach,’ he said. ‘You almost lost me a full catch of oysters by your foolish ideas and it won’t happen again.’ He closed the door behind him before Eline could reply and she clenched her hands tightly wanting to run after him and hammer him with her fists.
She sank down into a chair. It was clear that Joe cared more about his oysters than about her safety; didn’t it matter that she had almost lost her life saving his precious catch?
Common sense reasserted itself. Of course, Nina Parks wouldn’t have recounted that part of the story, she would only have told Joe that Eline was slow and incompetent.
Wearily, Eline rose and stared out of the window, the beach stretched ahead of her alive with figures moving to and from the village, women busy with their work. Did they even notice that she was not among them this morning and that Nina Parks was back in her usual place, sorting and cleaning oysters for the skipper of the Emmeline?
Eline put her hands on her hips and lifted her chin in an attitude of defiance. Very well, if Joe would not have her work on the oysters, then
he must accept the fact that she would find other employment and let him try to stop her a second time, just let him try.
Carefully, Eline washed her face placing a cold cloth on the burning cheek where Joe’s big hand had struck her. Anger flared afresh, how dare he treat her so badly? Her own father had never raised a hand to her in anger and she wasn’t going to take such treatment from Joe, especially when it wasn’t called for.
She tied back her hair in a bright ribbon and pulled on her Sunday coat and skirt. For a moment, she paused at the door, almost losing her courage, then she straightened her shoulders. If she gave in to Joe now, she would never be anything more than his chattel.
Eline walked swiftly towards the terminus of the horse-drawn carriage of the Mumbles train determined to travel into Swansea to find work. She would have loved to find employment at William Davies’s shop, but she knew that was an impossible dream; she would only cause trouble for him for Joe’s wrath would be mighty.
As Eline climbed up the stairs to the top deck of the carriage, she settled herself in her seat and stared out to sea. Emily Miller had liked her work, had even invited her to come into town and dress the windows of her emporium and, though the words might have been spoken in jest, Eline hoped that there had been some hint of seriousness behind them.
Emily Miller was a fine lady; she and her husband owned many thriving concerns in Swansea. Even Joe would be reluctant to cross swords with such people, at least that’s what Eline was hoping.
The carriage had not travelled far when a sudden noise exploded on the soft spring air. Eline stiffened in her seat, her hands gripping her bag were white to the knuckles. She and everyone else on board the Mumbles train knew the sound well; it was the distress signal to call out the Mumbles lifeboat crew. Something was wrong, some boat in trouble in the bay.
Eline was on her feet even before the train jolted to a halt. People around her were pushing forward, as anxious as she was to climb down from the top deck.
Once on the roadway, Eline stood for a moment, staring back towards Oystermouth. Everything seemed calm, no storm, no wrecked ships, could it have been a false alarm? Again the maroons sounded, lights flaring up into the sky. And Eline began to run.
CHAPTER EIGHT
William moved along the beach with swift strides, shading his eyes with his hand as he strained to see what was happening out in the bay. He had been unloading his van when the maroons, fired from the lifeboat station, had echoed around the village, alerting everyone to the knowledge that there was some disaster at sea.
The water running into the bay was calm, the skies overhead clear with just a few light clouds drifting lazily towards the horizon. And yet something was wrong.
Near the water’s edge, the flotilla of small craft bobbed on the shoreline unattended. Further out, the fishing skiffs were at anchor and it was to one of these that the lifeboat was heading.
A group of fishermen’s wives were gathered like anxious ragged birds, shawls lifting in the wind, poised at the edge of the tide and William recognized Carys Morgan’s plump, squat figure as she stood a little apart from the others in an effort to see what was taking place.
‘Mrs Morgan, what’s wrong?’ William stood beside Carys and stared down at her white, anxious face with a feeling of pity; he hadn’t realized just how difficult it must be to have a loved one at the mercy of the ocean.
‘I don’t know very much,’ Carys confessed, ‘there’s been some sort of accident on board one of the skiffs.’
‘What sort of accident?’ Will asked and Carys shook her head.
‘Duw, I can only make a guess, see, some man slipped on a wet deck and broke a leg perhaps or even a drowning.’ She glanced up at the sky. ‘Though that’s doubtful in this calm weather, please God.’
The lifeboat was heading towards the shore and a silence fell on the women on the beach as the boat came inland.
One of the crew of the lifeboat jumped into the shallow water and dragged the boat up on to the beach. The women surged forward and William heard a strong masculine voice call out above the noise.
‘Stand back, ladies, give the poor bugger some air.’
‘Thanks be to God,’ Carys said, ‘that’s my Sam’s voice, it’s not him that’s been hurt.’
William became conscious of someone behind him. He turned to see Eline running along the beach, her hair flying free, her cheeks flushed from her exertions and his heart seemed to melt.
Almost at the same moment, the crowd of women parted as two of the lifeboat crew, holding a limp figure of a man between them, made their way slowly up the beach.
‘Joe!’ Eline’s voice was strong and clear; she gave William a quick glance and then moved towards her husband.
William could see that the man was badly injured, a blood-stained cloth covered his hand. His face was doughily white, drained of all colour and his half-drooping eyes revealed that he was only semiconscious.
‘We must get him to the hospital,’ Eline’s voice rang out clearly, ‘otherwise he’s going to bleed to death.’
William stepped forward. ‘I’ll get my van,’ he said, ‘we’ll have him in Swansea in no time, don’t worry.’
William hurried to the shop where the van stood, door still open, the horse half-asleep, head almost touching the cobbles.
William climbed into the driving seat, jerked the animal into movement and headed for the part of the beach where the crowd appeared like dark crows against the paleness of the sand. Before William had properly reined the horse to a standstill, the men were lifting Joe Harries into the back of the van and Eline crouched beside her husband, her face a white blur as she talked reassuringly to him.
The drive to the hospital was along a straight roadway that fortunately at this time of evening was not busy with traffic. William could hear Eline’s voice, soothing, encouraging, and he felt a sharp pain inside him. Eline should have been his wife, he loved her as he never thought it possible to love any woman.
‘How is he?’ he called back over his shoulder and he heard Eline shift her position as the van jolted over some uneven cobbles.
‘He’s a strong man,’ Eline said, ‘he’ll be all right if only we can get him some attention.’
William drove right up to the entrance to the hospital and whistled to the horse to stop. He climbed down from the driving seat and opened the doors for Eline, lifting her gently down into the courtyard.
There were people then, efficient doctors and nurses surrounding the injured man. Will fell silent, rubbing the ears of the horse absent-mindedly. His last sight of Eline was when she was ushered into a room with her husband and the doors swung shut, concealing her from his view.
William sat on the wall outside and waited; he could not leave her, she needed him and when she came out of the hospital, he would be there.
‘We are keeping your husband in for the night, Mrs Harries, just as a precaution.’ The doctor was fresh-faced and young, and, as Eline stared anxiously up at him, he smiled.
‘Try not to worry too much. Your husband is as strong as an ox, he’ll be himself again in a few days.’
‘His injuries,’ Eline heard herself asking, ‘how bad are they?’
The doctor paused doubtfully and Eline shook back her hair. ‘I want to know the truth, please.’
‘He’s lost three of his fingers,’ the doctor said at last, ‘caught them in the winch it seems. Very bad luck, but not fatal.’ He smiled reassuringly. ‘Give him a few days to replace the blood he’s lost, feed him good liver and oxtail and he’ll be as right as rain.’ He was about to turn away when he spoke again.
‘He won’t be able to go back to sea for a few weeks though, make sure he rests, won’t you?’
‘Can I see him?’ Eline asked, looking towards the door and the doctor nodded.
‘Yes, but he’ll be asleep, he won’t be able to talk to you, not just now.’
Eline went into the long ward and saw at once the bed with screens around it and knew Joe w
as there. A nurse was just drawing the clothes up over Joe and she smiled as she saw Eline.
‘Your dad will be just fine and dandy, cariad,’ she said gently. ‘Sit with him a bit if you like, but he won’t be able to speak to you, mind.’
Eline thanked the nurse, not bothering to correct her misapprehension. What did it matter that Joe was taken to be her father? Eline leaned over Joe, seeing his pale face, usually so ruddy, with a dart of pain.
She had been about to go against all Joe’s wishes, to flout her husband’s authority and she didn’t think she would ever get over the feeling of guilt that rested like a millstone on her shoulders now.
She stroked Joe’s cheek; it was cold and clammy to touch. Eline edged the bedclothes closer round him, wanting instinctively to warm him. Tears blurred her eyes. ‘Oh Joe,’ she whispered, ‘I’m sorry, my love.’
It was much later when she left the hospital and, as she made her way out into the fading evening light, she caught sight of William waiting for her near the gate. She felt grateful to him for his concern, the walk back alone to Oystermouth would have been the last straw. Eline felt she would have broken down and cried.
‘Come and sit with me,’ he said softly, holding out his hand and lifting her into the seat beside him. ‘You look so pale and worried, I’m sure your … he’ll be all right.’
Eline sensed that William could not bring himself to say the word ‘husband’ and she knew exactly how he felt. Sitting close to Will, she could feel her being soften with love for him; she wanted to belong to him, felt, in some strange way that she did belong to him.
Eline wished she could say the words, ‘I love you’, and have it over and done with, but guilt held her silent, though in the soft darkness, she felt William by her side and wanted him to be there always.
‘I love you, Eline.’ It was William who broke the silence. ‘I know you’re married, but I can’t help it, I’ll always love you and you love me too, I know it in my bones.’
She couldn’t speak, but she gently rested her head against his shoulder, closing her eyes, breathing in the scent of him. Eline knew she couldn’t be closer to him if she had known his physical love and for now it was enough that he cared.
