by Iris Gower
‘No, I don’t want a room,’ Eline said, ‘I would like to see Mr Davies. I’m a friend and I understand he hasn’t been very well.’
The girl stepped aside at once. ‘Come in, miss, he’s had a right nasty fever, real bad he was for a day or two, but over the worst now, so the doctor says. Wait by here, I’ll ask him can he see you.’
Eline looked round the hallway, at the leafy green plant in the large pot and the well-polished tiles on the floor, at least Will would have been well cared for but she could not help feeling that she should have come sooner.
Suddenly a voice interrupted her thoughts. ‘I don’t think Will is up to seeing you today.’ Sarah Miller was coming down the stairs behind the young maid and she was smiling in a superior way that made Eline suddenly go cold.
‘Is it up to you to make that decision?’ she asked acidly, staring at Sarah with a hostility she was unable to conceal.
‘Yes, I would say so,’ Sarah retorted, smiling, her teeth showing like those of a cat about to pounce on a helpless prey.
‘I think not.’ Eline made to move past her but Sarah blocked her way, catching her arm in a none-too-gentle hold. ‘I have every right to speak for Will,’ she said quietly, ‘after all, he and I were lovers before I left Swansea.’
‘Liar!’ The word was wrenched from between Eline’s numb lips, something in Sarah’s eyes, in the triumphant line of her neck, told Eline she was speaking the truth.
‘You mean you didn’t know that Will was the father of my child, the child that my dear step-mother Emily is rearing?’ Sarah’s tone was mocking. ‘And now I’m back, Will and I will have to sort things out, settle our future and that of our daughter.’
‘I don’t believe what you are saying about Will and in any case you were walking out with Tom Parks.’ Eline was clutching at straws and she knew it. What did a small matter like walking out with one man while bearing a child by another mean to a woman like Sarah Miller?
Sarah seemed to read something of her thoughts. ‘In any case,’ she said spitefully, ‘from what I hear, you are a married woman, I should think that to Will you were just a convenience. Who misses a bite out of a bruised apple?’
Eline felt herself flush with anger, she opened her mouth to protest, but how could she? It was true that she and Will had never been lovers but the intention was there and after all, she was at married woman.
She turned to leave and then heard from the landing above Will’s voice calling to her, ‘Eline!’ The urgency in his tone held her still as he hurried down the stairs and came to her side.
‘Eline, why were you going to leave without seeing me?’ he asked, his eyes bright as though he still had a fever. Eline looked into his dear face and longed to cling to him.
‘I’ve been telling Eline about us,’ Sarah said sweetly. ‘I think she should know how we almost renewed our acquaintance in the most intimate of ways. Don’t you think she had the right to know?’
Will looked at Eline. ‘I’m denying nothing, everything that happened was before I met you, you can’t hold it against me.’
‘But Will,’ Sarah interrupted, ‘what about the other night when we were alone together we almost gave in to temptation, didn’t we?’ She rushed on without waiting for a reply. ‘And there’s our child. We haven’t discussed her future, have we?’
Will glanced back at Sarah in exasperation and Sarah met his gaze challengingly.
‘Will,’ Eline spoke softly, ‘is the child yours?’
Will shook his head. ‘Sarah has told so many lies I can deny nothing. I don’t even know whose child Sarah gave birth to.’
Eline felt as though a stone was hanging heavily in her breast. Without a word, she moved out into the freshness of the air, breathing deeply, trying to calm herself. In the space of a few minutes everything seemed to have changed; Will was not the free man she had believed him to be, he had loved Sarah once and might be the father of her child.
Eline became aware that Will had followed her. ‘I’m going to Somerset for a few days,’ she said softly as Will closed the door on Sarah’s prying eyes. ‘When I come back we will talk again.’
‘Eline,’ Will said softly, ‘I have never held your marriage against you, please don’t hold the words of a spiteful girl against me.’
Eline put her hand on his arm. ‘Go back indoors, Will, you still look a little feverish. We’ll talk again when I get back, really we will, I’ll have had time to think things out then.’
‘Eline, I nearly had you, so nearly.’ Will traced the outline of her cheek with his finger. ‘Never have I wanted anyone the way I want you.’
‘Goodbye, Will.’ Eline almost ran along the road, her eyes were filled with tears and there was a heaviness that weighed her down so that her footsteps seemed to drag. She longed to be alone in her own rooms where she could fling herself on the bed and let the hot angry tears that ached in her throat have full release.
She thought of Will and how he might have been in Sarah’s arms and then she thought of Joe, her husband who had vowed to love only her. Were all men faithless, driven only by their own needs?
She climbed aboard the Mumbles train and huddled in a seat in the warmth of the lower deck. She didn’t want to look out at the passing beauty of the sea, or of the darkening skies over Mumbles Head. She was so low in spirits that nothing seemed to matter any more. She felt beaten, rejected and betrayed and all she wanted now was the sanctuary of her own room.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Somerset was a sweet, red-earthed country with late roses flowering around thatch-roofed country cottages and Eline felt at home there from the first day she had set foot in the place. Mrs Miller had booked them both into a small inn on the outskirts of Street and from the window beneath the sloping roof of her room, Eline could see along the main roadway of the town.
Eline had never been used to luxury before she had her own suite of rooms above Emily’s emporium and so she accepted the small bedroom with its varnished wooden floor and the sagging bed covered in a patchwork quilt with equanimity. She was filled with anticipation as she stood now at the small-paned window, staring out at the soft countryside, glad to be far away from Swansea and from Will. She could not help but wonder what he would be doing now; could he be wrapped in the arms of Sarah Miller, putting Eline completely out of his thoughts?
It troubled Eline how nearly she had betrayed all her instincts and gone to Will’s bed, it was foolishness, she saw that now, no good could come of being unfaithful to her marriage vows. Two wrongs didn’t make a right and it was about time she realized that.
Eline forced her thoughts to return to the business in hand, the visiting of Clark’s Boot and Shoe Emporium. The visit was mainly social, Emily Miller had made that clear, but Eline guessed that a foretaste of what the famous Clark’s factory was planning would be of enormous help in the progress of Emily’s own business.
When she had passed the Clark’s factory on her arrival, Eline had been surprised at the remoteness of the buildings. The factory could have been a large private dwelling, turretted, with many windows, that stared out into pleasant tree-lined grounds. Somerset was unlike Swansea through its purity of air and the undamaged richness of the countryside.
Swansea had the copper smoke from the Hafod and the White Rose factories as well as the coal dust from small mines to contend with and yet Swansea was dear to Eline, the ugliness mitigated by the golden curve of the bay and by the slopes of the soft hills rising above the town.
Eline heard Emily Miller’s voice outside on the landing, so she drew on her coat and did up the buttons, ready and waiting to visit the Clark factory.
‘Ah, there you are, Eline, punctual I’m happy to see.’ Emily was pulling on her soft kids gloves. ‘We have a cab waiting outside, what a pity it’s begun to rain.’
The roadway outside the inn was quickly turning to mud, the wheels of a passing cart churning channels into the softness sending up a flurry of damp earth in all directions.
Eline followed her and sank into the creaking seat, shivering a little at the coldness of the leather upholstery.
‘Not a very pleasant day, is it?’ Mrs Miller remarked looking through the window and Eline agreed dutifully.
She still felt a little in awe of Mrs Miller who wore an air of remoteness, her tone of voice, when she spoke, always brisk and businesslike. She had been more than kind to Eline and yet there seemed no warmth in Mrs Miller. Except, Eline conceded, when her husband was around.
Emily and John Miller seemed the perfect couple, there was an unspoken regard for each other’s opinions and the love that flowed between them when they touched was almost tangible.
It was Mrs Miller who had sent Sarah to live in Oystermouth, Eline reflected with some irony. Perhaps if Eline hadn’t complained about Sarah she might still be living at the emporium and probably Eline and William would have been lovers by now.
And yet, wasn’t it better to know now about Will’s past than to find out later that he had a child?
Why was it that the men in her life seemed to have found some other woman to give them an heir? Perhaps it was just as well, Eline thought dismally, she was barren, unable to bear a child. In any case, it hardly mattered now, she had made up her mind to abide by her marriage vows come what may.
‘You are very quiet, Eline,’ Mrs Miller said, ‘not homesick already, are you?’
Was she? Eline considered for a moment and then shook her head. ‘No, I’m enjoying the change. I want to see and do new things, I want to learn all I can about, about everything.’
Mrs Miller smiled. ‘I remember well when I was like that myself, now I’m inclined to settle for some peace in my life, I could do without disruptions like the appearance of my step-daughter.’
Eline was surprised, it wasn’t like Mrs Miller to speak of personal matters. She bit her lip, she didn’t think it polite to agree with Mrs Miller and yet she couldn’t in all honesty speak in Sarah’s defence, Sarah was disruptive if not to say dangerous.
Mrs Miller looked directly at Eline. ‘You know about the baby, don’t you?’
Eline nodded slowly. ‘Yes, Will Davies’s child, I believe.’
‘What?’ Mrs Miller said in surprise. ‘No, the baby wasn’t Will’s, would that she were, at least I’d know she came from honest stock. No, it was not Will but Sam Payton who was Pammy’s father.’
Eline looked up and met Emily Miller’s direct gaze realizing she saw more and was far wiser than she allowed anyone to know.
‘But, Sarah told me that Will was the father of her baby and when I asked him point blank if it was true, he didn’t know what to say.’
‘I’m not surprised,’ Mrs Miller said drily. ‘In the beginning, Sarah told so many lies, I seriously wonder if the girl would know the truth if it got up and bit her. In any case, she treated Will Davies most shabbily, I shouldn’t think he’d want any more to do with her.’ She looked out through the window, apparently having lost interest in the conversation but Eline knew that in her way, Emily wanted to set the record straight.
‘Ah, we’re here.’ Emily’s tone indicated in no uncertain terms that the subject was closed and then Mrs Miller was stepping down from the cab, treading gingerly across the muddy roadway.
It was Francis Clark who welcomed them into the building, a genial man with a pleasant smile on his face. He was smartly dressed and his beard and moustache were neatly clipped.
‘Mrs Miller, I’m sorry my brother isn’t here today, pressing business at Northover.’ He smiled and indicated that the ladies should take a seat.
‘You know we’ve moved our sheepskin side of the business over there under the management of John Morland. Here in Street we are concentrating more than ever on boots and shoes.’
He sat at the desk and smiled warmly at Eline, as though he sensed her shyness. ‘I’ve ordered some tea,’ he said, ‘and then perhaps you can tell me how I can be of service, Mrs Miller.’
‘I’ll be honest with you,’ Emily leaned forward. ‘I wish to know all that is the latest in the shoe business and who better to consult than the famous Clark family of Street in Somerset?’
Francis Clark nodded. ‘Always willing to give advice to such a successful lady as yourself, Mrs Miller.’ His face broadened into a smile. ‘I’ve heard much about the time you came here and made a deal to have boots and shoes delivered to Swansea without a penny changing hands.’ His smile widened. ‘I think it was your spirit of independence that impressed everyone at Clark’s, my brother most of all.’
‘My cheek, you mean,’ Mrs Miller said quickly. She turned to Eline. ‘This young lady here is very talented, I would like her to see how your process works, I think with a bit of training she’ll have a great future as a designer, perhaps as great as that of Hari Grenfell.’
‘That is praise indeed,’ Francis acknowledged softly, ‘Hari Grenfell’s name is renowned for expertise, design and innovation. You must be very good indeed, madam.’
Eline was silent not knowing what to say. She was pleased when the door opened and a maid entered the room bearing a silver tray.
When the tea was served, Francis leaned back in his chair and regarded Eline steadily. ‘I wish you the very best of good fortune, with your work,’ he said. ‘May the good Lord go with you.’
‘Thank you,’ Eline replied feeling totally inadequate as she sipped her tea and breathed in the smell of leather.
‘We mean to introduce a new line later on,’ Francis mused, his gaze including both Eline and Emily. ‘We are calling the line Hygienic Boots and Shoes and we intend the footwear to be designed on anatomical principles following the shape of the foot more accurately than before.’
He placed his fingertips together and after a moment, continued speaking, ‘The actual formula is a secret at the moment, but I’m sure your Hari Grenfell has worked in this line along with her remedial footwear.’
‘I’m sure,’ Emily agreed. ‘This is all very interesting.’ Her eyes revealed what her voice did not that she really was fascinated by the idea of anatomically designed footwear. ‘I’m sure you will have great success with such an imaginative and worthy idea.’
Eline leaned forward. ‘I have done some work of that nature myself,’ she said in a quiet voice and Francis nodded thoughtfully.
‘You are indeed a talented lady and I congratulate you.’
After tea was finished, Eline followed Francis Clark and Mrs Miller in silence as they walked through the factory. The noise of the sewing machines was like the continuous humming of giant birds interspersed with the clacking sound of the cutting machine.
Eline was not interested in this side of the shoemaking process, she wanted only to draw and modify, correcting weaknesses in patterns and bringing the footwear to a more realistically designed shape. Indeed, from what she could see, she had begun to draw the anatomically practical shoe already.
The noise gave her a headache and Eline was glad when they left the factory behind and moved out into the roadway once more. The rain had ceased and there was a freshness to the air that soothed Eline’s throbbing head. She watched as Emily said her thanks and her goodbyes and was relieved to turn once more to the coach.
The drive back to the inn was silent except for the rolling of the wheels on cobbles and the creaking of the leather seats. It was only when Mrs Miller led the way to her rooms indicating that Eline should follow her that it became clear what the visit was really all about.
‘Francis is a kindly gentleman,’ Mrs Miller said thoughtfully, ‘but then the Clarks are Quakers, religious and so very nice.’ She changed the direction of her thinking so abruptly that Eline had difficulty in keeping up with her.
‘Did you take notice of the new designs that were being made in the factory?’ Mrs Miller asked, discarding her gloves. ‘See the broader shape
of the heel and the way that more room was being allowed to accommodate the toes?’
Eline smiled. ‘I could have saved you the trip,’ she said with great daring, ‘I meant it when I said I’d been working on those lines myself for some time.’
Mrs Miller seemed for once at a loss for words. She sank down into a chair and drew off her hat, shaking the rain from it thoughtfully.
‘I see, then I should have been paying more attention to your work, shouldn’t I?’ She unlaced her boots. ‘Still it’s been an experience for you, Eline, has it not? And now I know what the Clarks are calling their new footwear, I can avoid using the same description.’
‘Of course,’ Eline pointed out, ‘the Clarks are not ready to go into production of their new line, not just yet. What they were making on some of the machines were simply prototypes. They manufacture boots and shoes in such great quantities that it will take months to build up enough stock to go on to the market.’
‘You are a bright girl,’ Mrs Miller praised softly. ‘Pack up your belongings, Eline, our work here is finished. We are going home.’
Nina Parks stared at her reflection in the spotted mirror hanging over the sink; she looked well, she decided, better than she’d done for some time.
She smiled to herself. Joe had come to her bed last night, the first time since she’d lost the baby. Nina had been worried by his abstinence, she knew that a man like Joe needed to satisfy his appetites and if not with her then he would find someone else.
But he had been as passionate as ever and much more loving; it seemed that the loss of their child had brought them closer together.
She moved to the kitchen and peered into the pot of stew simmering nicely on the edge of the fire; Joe would be hungry when he came home, he’d been working all day at the quarry and would be hungry, tired and dusty. Very soon the oyster season would begin again, and then Nina would be happier because a man like Joe needed the freedom of the open sea. There, he was at his best, doing the job he loved, bringing in the oysters.
