by Iris Gower
‘Mrs Marsh’s boarding house?’ Eline repeated. ‘Isn’t that where, Will, Mr Davies, lodges?’
‘You are right, I never thought of that,’ Emily said, ‘but I think he’ll steer well clear of her type these days.’
Emily Miller smiled, speaking again before Eline had time to ponder on her words. ‘I believe Sarah’s new follower lives in the vicinity, perhaps his attentions will be enough to keep her occupied for most of the time. Who knows, this Tom may even marry her one day.’ Her tone indicated that it would be a great relief to have Sarah safely off her hands.
Emily rose from her chair and Eline knew that the meeting was over. Outside, Eline began to walk towards the bay thinking how peaceful her life would be with Sarah out of the way. Oystermouth would suffer from Sarah’s disruptive presence but Eline could not see the villagers putting up with any nonsense from her.
She pushed a curl of hair from her forehead. Poor Will, he would not appreciate the loudness of a woman like Sarah under the same roof as him but, by all accounts, Mrs Marsh would be a strict landlady and would keep Sarah in check.
It was warm on the edge of the sand with the coarse grass shooting between the golden grains like pointing fingers reaching for the sky. Out in the bay, small ships bobbed on the restless waters but not oyster skiffs, they would be beached for another few weeks yet before the season began again.
Eline seated herself on a flat piece of stone and felt the warm breeze fan her cheeks with an almost sensuous pleasure. As she lay there self-indulgently, she was struck by the idea that perhaps she was being foolish in remaining faithful to her husband while Joe was so obviously unfaithful to her.
Perhaps she should allow herself to yield to Will’s embraces; she knew she loved him so could it be wrong? She wanted to prove to herself that the harsh words spoken by Sarah were untrue. Eline was not cold, she was a woman with hot blood singing in her veins and she wanted Will with more passion than she could begin to express.
‘Hallo.’ He was beside her so suddenly that Eline blushed scarlet, expecting him to have read her thoughts. ‘I’ve had a devil of a job finding you,’ he continued, ‘I wanted to apologize for my rudeness the other day.’
‘William, you startled me!’ She said, excusing the rich colour by fanning herself as though it was the sun that had brought a blush to her cheeks.
He sat beside her and she was aware of the scent of him, the male, animal attraction of him and she wondered at her own determination to resist him. For how long? For ever? Was that possible?
Eline looked down at her hands; was she to go through life not knowing what it was like to lie with the man she loved? To know only the coldness of duty to a husband many years older than her?
Questions flared through her mind, turning and twisting until she thought she would go mad. She looked up at Will and somehow she was leaning towards him, her mouth turned to him in open invitation. Without speaking, he took her face in his hands and drew her mouth close to his, her very skin tingling with anticipation as his lips hovered above hers.
When his mouth touched hers, it was as though her senses were swamped with a rush of desire so spontaneous and so compelling that if she had not been in the open air with the sound of children’s voices ringing in the distance she would have clung to him and begged for his love.
The kiss went on and on, Eline felt his arm accidentally brush her breast and she felt she would swoon with her need for him. She had not known such passion existed and a thought swam through her drunken senses, steadying her, was she so much different from Sarah Miller, after all?
She drew away from Will and brushed at her hair with shaking fingers. He sat looking down at her and his eyes were pleading.
‘I love you, Eline, and this can’t go on or I’ll go mad with the feelings I have for you.’
‘I know,’ she said, reaching out and touching his hand lightly but the caress of her fingers was redolent with promise. ‘I do not want to resist any longer, we must meet, Will, my cariad, we must be private.’ She stumbled over the words, not knowing what to say, how to put into plain speech her decision to consummate their love. But he understood and his hand turning, gripped her fingers.
‘I love you, Eline, and we will be as man and wife, I promise you that, I won’t look at another woman as long as I live. We will go away, if you want,’ he continued, ‘make a new life abroad where no one knows us, I’ll be good to you always, I give you my word of honour.’
She put a finger to his lips and hushed him. ‘I won’t allow you to give up everything you’ve worked for in Swansea,’ she said firmly, ‘our love will be a secret, just between you and me.’
She rose to her feet then and twitched her skirts into place. ‘I have made up my mind,’ she said, ‘I shall follow my career and you yours but we will be together whenever we can.’
She looked up at him and then rested her head against his shoulder, closing her eyes with the joy of his nearness. It would not be easy conducting an illicit liaison with Will, there would have to be arrangements made, lies told, but it would be worth it, she told herself stoutly. And when he bent to kiss her again, she melted against him, clinging to him, holding him so close as though she would never let him go again.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
‘I don’t see why I should be pushed out for the sake of some shop girl!’ Sarah’s mouth was set in an obstinate line and she glared at her step-mother, resenting her high-handed attitude.
‘You seem to forget that you’ve got my baby,’ she flung at her knowing her words would hurt, ‘why shouldn’t I take her away right now?’
She saw Emily straighten her shoulders as if she bore a great burden but her composure was unruffled. ‘Because,’ Emily spoke with infuriating reasonableness, ‘you don’t want to be saddled with a child, you just couldn’t take the responsibility of it all, could you?’ Before Sarah could think of a reply, Emily was speaking again.
‘In any event, I would fight you through the courts and I don’t think your past exploits would go unnoticed, do you? Abduction and demanding money are not inconsiderable crimes; you might well be put in prison, and at the very least you would be found to be an unfit mother. No, Sarah, don’t threaten me, instead accept with gratitude what I am offering you, comfortable accommodation and a more than generous allowance.’
Sarah was silent. Emily would keep throwing the past up at her but there was a great deal of truth in what Emily said, most of all in her assumption that Sarah would not wish to be saddled with a child; a kid around the place would be the last thing Sarah wanted and Emily knew it, damn her!
‘All right,’ Sarah said at last, ‘I’ll see how I go on down at this Oystermouth place, it can’t be as outlandish as Port Eynon anyway.’
‘There is a coach waiting outside to take you there,’ Emily said softly, ‘and remember, you will live comfortably enough on your allowance, you will not have to work for a living but if you step out of line, the allowance will be stopped and not even your father would be inclined to forgive you another scandal.’
‘You’ve got it all worked out, haven’t you?’ Sarah said bitterly. ‘Get rid of me; out of sight, out of mind, is that it?’
Emily rose to her feet and opened the door. ‘Be thankful for what you have, Sarah,’ she said gravely, ‘the opportunity to make a new start, find a respectable husband and set yourself up in a nice home. Don’t throw it all away by being foolish, again.’
Sarah left the house and climbed into the waiting cab, leaning back against the cold leather seat. She scarcely saw the streets of Swansea as the coach clattered along the cobbles, scattering a flurry of chickens that had been pecking at a fallen crust of bread. Driving away from the town and along the coast road, Sarah brightened up considerably as she thought of Emily’s words. Emily was quite right. Sarah had the world at her feet now, a generous allowance, nice rooms in lodgings where she would have to do no work but be waited on like a lady and perhaps there might be a rich husband in the offing.
Tom Parks was all right as a temporary lover but Sarah wanted far more from life than to be tied to a lowly seaman all her life.
She was glad she had come back to Swansea, at least Emily was offering her a comfortable living. It was all a far cry from the years she’d spent with Sam Payton. It would not be easy to forget the times when she had lived from hand to mouth, with Sam carping and complaining and she tired and beaten down with weariness. Then Sarah had worked in all sorts of places from the beer-soaked public bars of shabby inns to being a lowly maid in service at one big house or another.
Sarah had hated her enforced servility, she bitterly resented carrying coal and water up endless flights of stairs, bobbing curtsys to those who thought they were her betters, who saw her as nothing but a servant put on earth to slave for them. The humiliation was often too hard to bear and Sarah cried herself to sleep on many a night.
And then Sam left her, running off with the owner of the Brighton Hotel on the west coast of Devon and Sarah had been left with nothing but the clothes she stood up in. For a few days, she had become a hermit, closeted in the small room which Sam had rented. It was only when the landlord, an elderly, lecherous man, had tried to coerce her into submission that she had roused herself from the torpor into which she had sunk.
Sarah had been desperate, she had gone to the docks in Bristol and used her wits and her body to secure a passage on a ship that was crossing the channel to the Welsh coast. She had made her way to Port Eynon where she had worked in the one and only inn in the place and though she had thought often of returning to Swansea, she feared the reception that might await her there and lacked the energy to make the move.
Then she had met Tom Parks. It was clear he had never heard of her or of Sam Payton and his obvious adoration had supplied the necessary impetus to bring her back to Swansea.
Now, sitting in comfort in the leather seat of the cab, wearing good, clean clothes and with money in her bag, she told herself she was well off, ripe for a new start in life. She could be even better off if she met the right man, someone in trade perhaps, a man who would keep her in comfort and security. But for now, Tom Parks would do very well, he was handsome and well set up and full of energy beneath the sheets.
The cab jerked to a stop outside a tall, substantially built house that stood just a short way uphill from the sea front. Sarah didn’t see the sweep of the bay below her or the soft clouds scudding across the sky, she was far too busy sizing up the heavy curtains on the window of the Marsh household, noticing how cleanly the windows shone and the gleaming brass of the door fittings.
She was met by a motherly woman whom Sarah presumed was Mrs Marsh herself and wanting to make a good impression, Sarah smiled politely.
‘I’m Sarah Miller,’ she said allowing the older woman to take her bag. ‘What a lovely house you have here, I compliment you, Mrs Marsh, on your fine home.’
The woman warmed to her, it was clear from the way she bobbed a curtsy that she considered Sarah to be well born, one of the gentry, and Sarah was well pleased.
Mrs Marsh led Sarah to her rooms on the first floor of the tall building and flung open the door, standing back to allow Sarah entry.
‘I hope you will be comfortable, Miss Miller,’ she said respectfully, ‘as instructed I have made my best rooms available for you. I think you will like it here in Oystermouth.’
‘I’m sure I will,’ Sarah lied, knowing already that the long street strung along the bay was going to be far too quiet for entertainment. But then, the theatre at Swansea was only a coach ride away and now that Sarah was a lady of leisure she would make sure she enjoyed it to the full.
‘Supper will be at eight,’ Mrs Marsh was saying. ‘You can have it in your room if you wish or come down to the dining room and meet my other guests.’
Sarah brightened. ‘Other guests, how many are there?’ she asked in apparent unconcern.
‘Five, no six including you,’ Mrs Marsh replied. ‘An old gent, Mr Frogmore, and his grandson who occupy the top floor and then there’s the two Misses Grace who are very quiet and respectable and are just across the landing from you and then there’s young Mr Davies who owns the boot and shoe shop in the village. A fine man is Mr Davies, a real gentleman.’
Sarah looked up with interest. ‘William Davies?’ she asked and Mrs Marsh nodded her head, her lips close together and Sarah thought better of questioning the woman any further. It wasn’t ladylike to be too interested in a young man and for the moment, Sarah was content to play the lady.
‘I shall come down to supper and meet them all,’ she said as though bestowing a great honour. ‘I might have something in common with your Mr Davies because my father owns Miller’s Boot and Shoe Emporium in Swansea.’
The woman was probably well aware that Sarah was one of the Millers, Sarah thought, but it didn’t harm to make certain. When she was alone, Sarah stood before the mirror and stared at her reflection. She hadn’t changed much over the years, her skin was still blooming and her hair was fine and curly; she looked little more than the girl she had been when she had left Swansea under a cloud two years previously.
Yes, she mused with a smile, she might have a great deal in common with Mr Davies and supper promised to be an interesting event – she could hardly wait.
Will was feeling happier than he had done for some time, Eline had warmed to him, there had been a promise in her eyes when she had left him and he knew that she did not make promises lightly.
He wanted Eline like he’d never wanted any woman before, he loved her and desired her and even though she was married, he knew he must possess her.
Will considered that Joe Harries had forfeited any rights to Eline by his faithless ways, not only had he slept with another woman but he had the effrontery to take her into Eline’s home. No woman could be expected to suffer such humiliation, certainly not Eline with her fine spirit of independence.
He fastened his shirt collar with the stud and adjusted his tie, it was almost supper time and Mrs Marsh liked her guests to be punctual.
He hurried down the stairs and into the hallway and the low murmur of voices from the dining room reached out to him like a welcome. It was good to be part of a family even a family made up of strangers. Will craved for family life, he wanted a home of his own, a house full of children and a wife to come home to every evening.
Well, Eline could never be his wife in name but she would soon be his wife in the real, meaningful sense of the word and he could not wait.
He opened the dining room door and the voices rose to a swell of good natured chatter, he saw the Grace sisters, grey heads bobbing vigorously as they took it in turns to talk, each of them waiting as though on the edge of the seat for the other to finish speaking.
Will smiled, he was fond of the sisters, they gossiped a great deal but they were never to be heard speaking ill of anyone.
Jack Frogmore was sitting back in his chair looking as though he could do with a puff of his pipe but good manners forbade him to smoke in the presence of the ladies. His son Geoffrey was leaning forward talking to a lady who must be the new guest Mrs Marsh had told him about earlier. Geoffrey’s shoulder was blocking the way so that Will saw only a glimpse of a rounded arm and a surprisingly work-roughened hand.
Then he saw her. Will took a deep breath as Geoffrey leaned back in his chair revealing in full the face of the new boarder.
‘Sarah!’ the name escaped Will’s lips almost silently like a sigh. She looked up at him and smiled, as though nothing had ever happened between them, as though they had never lain together and learned the joys of the flesh and as though she had never betrayed him.
‘Mr Davies, please come and meet our new guest,’ Mrs Marsh smiled, extending her hand as though she was a dowager at a great ball introducing a lady of distinction.
‘This is Sarah, Miss Miller, I hope you will take the seat next to her and tell her all about your business venture in the village.’
Will took his seat without prote
st, it was clear that Sarah did not intend to acknowledge their past in any way but to treat him as if he was a stranger.
He looked at her hard, she had changed very little from the Sarah whose virginity he had taken in a moment of lust mistaken for love. She was as fresh and young as ever, except for her hands. Her nails were short and uneven, her fingers rough and red. He felt a momentary sense of satisfaction, it seemed life had not been so easy for her as she had anticipated.
The past seemed to flash before him in a series of images, Sarah naked in his arms, thugs standing before him beating him to within an inch of his life because of her and worse than all that, Sarah trying to fool him that he was the father of her child. Betrayal was too slight a word for what she had done to him.
‘Vegetables, Mr Davies?’ Sarah’s full lips were moving but it took a few seconds for him to take in the words she was saying.
‘Thank you,’ he could not keep the iciness out of his voice though no one seemed to notice. Will glanced around the table, everything seemed normal, the two elderly Grace sisters were still bobbing gray heads in animated conversation and old Jack Frogmore was saying something to his son. Geoffrey, however, had eyes only for Sarah and Will knew the young man was falling for her obvious charms as he himself had once done.
‘I hear you are in business, Mr Davies.’ Sarah’s voice had lost much of its Welsh lilt, she seemed composed as though acting the lady came easily to her. ‘The same sort of business as my father and step-mother.’
Will inclined his head, acknowledging her words, smiling to himself at the irony of the situation. By a quirk of fate, Sarah’s father, a humble cobbler, had married one of the richest women in Swansea and Sarah, it seemed, was out to use her new background to full effect.
