by Iris Gower
‘Then for pity’s sake make a go of it before you lose everything,’ Sal said. ‘Now, let’s open this bottle I’ve brought, let’s have a bit of cheerfulness in here, is it?’
When Sal had gone, Fon felt as though a breath of fresh air had blown through the farmhouse.
She sank into a chair bewildered by the look of dawning awareness on Jamie’s face. After a moment, he reached over and took her hand.
‘Your sister is right, you know,’ he said softly, ‘this isn’t what Kath would have wished for me and you. Let’s try and be happy, Fon.’ His fingers curled and gripped hers and Fon felt happiness flare through her.
Gratitude for Sal’s interference warmed her and as Fon’s eyes met Jamie’s she knew that however small it was, this was a beginning, a real beginning for both of them.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Eline was tired, she had worked hard on the picture of Kilver House and at last, she had finished it. After numerous sketches in crayon, Eline had painted the picture in subdued colours and the paint was drying nicely on the canvas.
She was quite pleased with her efforts, she had caught the mellow glow of the building and had even hinted at the frost in the grass edging the gravel pathways around the old house. She sighed and closed her eyes, it was time she went home.
Home, the small house in Oystermouth Village was in reality no longer her home. It belonged to Nina and Joe and Nina’s ebullient family. They all inhabited the place as though Eline was a mere lodger. And so she was, if she was truthful.
Eline drew on her coat and wound a scarf around her neck to keep out the winter chill. Christmas Day had been a prime example of the way she had become an outsider in her own home, she thought moodily; she had taken a back seat while Nina and her daughters had entertained Joe with songs, monologues and silly, foolish, happy jokes. If anything was guaranteed to make her feel like an intruder, it was the way Joe’s eyes rested in gratitude on Nina Parks.
The train was cold as it travelled back following the shore towards Oystermouth. All along the roadway were lights, strung out like a necklace on the curve of the bay. Behind closed curtains, people were together, families, close and loving, and Eline felt so alone, so empty as she huddled in her seat.
She alighted at Oystermouth at last with a handful of other passengers who quickly dispersed leaving her by herself in the silent street. Eline walked slowly past Will’s shop and stared longingly into the dark, glassy-eyed windows as though seeking comfort from the place where Will spent much of his time. He wasn’t there, of course, he was out celebrating, probably with his rich friends from Swansea. It was only she, Eline Harries, who was alone and friendless.
‘For heaven’s sake!’ she heard her own voice say. ‘Stop being so self-pitying.’ Suddenly the door to Will’s shop sprung open and Will himself stood there, as surprised as she was at their unexpected meeting.
‘Eline!’ He spoke her name softly and she looked up at him, her heart racing. As his tall figure emerged from the darkened shop, she saw Will’s eyes were alight with happiness. ‘Eline, I was just locking up the back door of the shop when I caught sight of you. I had to speak to you.’ He moved a step closer. ‘It’s been so long,’ he said. ‘How are you, Eline?’ She couldn’t see his eyes now as Will stood in the shadows and Eline wanted to move towards him into his arms.
‘I am very well,’ she replied politely. ‘I hope you had a good festive season?’ The words sounded stilted and foolish, the small talk of strangers.
‘Yes, thank you. You, too?’ he said and then he swore softly. ‘All this is so banal, so useless, when all I really want to do is take you in my arms.’
Eline’s heart lifted, but did he mean it? Last time she’d seen him he was close in conversation with Gwyneth Parks.
‘Are you managing all right, with work, I mean?’ Will asked breaking the uneasy silence that had fallen between them.
‘Very well,’ Eline said quickly, almost defensively, ‘I’ve just completed a commission to do a picture of Kilver House for a Mr Frogmore.’
‘Oh, yes, Mr Frogmore.’ There was something odd about Will’s tone.
‘You don’t like him?’ Eline asked wondering if Will’s dislike was engendered by jealousy. He had been in love with Sarah Miller once himself and now she was marrying young Geoffrey Frogmore.
‘I don’t like what he’s doing to the neighbourhood,’ Will said, ‘if what the rumours say are true. Eline, we can’t stand here talking trivialities in the cold, come with me to my rooms, let me give you a hot drink.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ Eline said bluntly, ‘we’d have the gossips waggling their tongues determined to be first with the news that Mrs Harries was alone with a young gentleman in his quarters. Don’t you ever learn Will?’
‘Damn the gossips!’ Will said taking her arm, ‘Eline …’
‘No, Will!’ she held up her hand, ‘nothing’s changed. We both know there can be nothing between us. I’m sorry.’ She hurried away and for a moment she wondered if he would come after her. If he did, she felt she would melt into his arms, she was so lonely, so very lonely.
Would it be wrong, she wondered, to steal just a little bit of happiness for herself, to spend just a little time talking to William? But he did not come and taking a deep breath, Eline almost ran the rest of the way along the road and breathless, let herself into the house, feeling the warmth wrapping itself around her.
She stood in the kitchen which was usually the hub of all activity and listened to the sounds of laughter coming from the parlour. Eline slumped against the door feeling even more acutely that she was a stranger in her own home.
After a moment, she took off her coat and hung it over the old rocking-chair and, forcing a bright expression on her face, made her way into the parlour.
The scene that greeted her was one of a happy united family. Nina sat opposite Joe’s chair and grouped around him were Nina’s two daughters.
Sal was a big girl with a friendly smile but Gwyneth as usual was immediately hostile, her smile fading as she looked at Eline.
‘Eline!’ Joe said, and there was a look of pleasure on his face, ‘I’ve got a surprise for you, just watch this.’
Placing his hands on the arms of his chair, Joe struggled to rise, the veins stood out on the backs of his hands and his muscles bulged. Eline would have moved forward but a look from Nina stopped her.
Joe was breathing heavily, his face was red and the pulse throbbed in his throat. He struggled for several minutes but, at last, he was upright. His entire body trembled but there was such a look of delight in his eyes at his achievement Eline was moved to tears.
‘Joe!’ she said. ‘How wonderful!’ She watched anxiously as he slumped back into his chair and wiped the beads of sweat from his brow.
‘Give it a few more weeks and I’ll be walking again,’ Joe said breathlessly, ‘and it’s all thanks to Nina.’
Eline felt a pang of pain, Nina was the hated mistress, but to Joe, Nina had been a strength and a support when he most needed help. It seemed that now Eline must be grateful to her for Nina had given Joe a new lease of life. Eline forced a smile and yet her heart was heavy; was she doomed to spend her life as someone for ever on the outside looking in?
Throughout January ice and snow held the sea at Oystermouth in its cruel hold and prevented the skiffs from going out. The village settled in and the fires in the small cottages sent smoke issuing from the chimneys.
Eline had returned from the office to her home to a barrage of gossip concerning Mr Frogmore; it seemed he was buying up as much property in Swansea as he could. It was rumoured that he had even approached the landowners of Oystermouth with a view to making a whole new string of properties along the sea front.
‘Damn cheek!’ Nina was rubbing her hands against her apron and Carys Morgan was sitting with her baby in the old rocking-chair, her face flushed with the heat of the fire. There was no sign of Joe and when Eline could get a word in, she asked where he was.<
br />
‘Oh, he’s with Sam, I wrapped him up well, mind.’ Nina smiled reassuringly. ‘Sam insisted on wheeling him down to the public for a drink of ale before supper and good riddance to them, too!’ Nina paused. ‘Sick of us going on about this Mr Frogmore, the men are, says it’s all a storm in a teacup. There’ll be a storm all right if we have dancing places and such disturbing the quiet of the village.’
‘Is that what Mr Frogmore wants then?’ Eline asked doubtfully; he hadn’t seemed that sort of man to her at all. She made up her mind to ask him about his plans when she delivered the painting to his rooms in Mrs Marsh’s boarding house. He would be quite within his rights to tell her to mind her own business, but Eline had the feeling that Mr Frogmore liked her and what’s more valued her opinion. In any case, a man who had bought a lovely old building like Kilver House couldn’t possibly be the sort to destroy the peace of a small village like Oystermouth.
‘Joe’s coming on well with his walking,’ Carys said, her plump, good-natured face creased into dimples as she smiled. ‘Sam won’t have to take Joe in his chair for much longer, kills Joe, being pushed in that chair does. Nina’s done a fine job.’
‘Yes, she has,’ Eline said feeling once more as though she was being edged out of Joe’s life even in the eyes of dear, kind Carys Morgan. But then Eline was an oddity, a woman who worked for a living and more a woman who left her man in the hands of his mistress. It was no wonder she was the recipient of strange looks whenever she walked down the street, Eline thought ruefully.
And yet she knew she was doing the right thing. Nina was good for Joe, she was the only woman who would have put up with his moods for Nina loved Joe, loved him more than Eline would or could ever love him. What a mess life was.
Carys rose to her feet. ‘I’d better be getting back, the men will be home for supper any time now and my Sam will be starving as he always is after a pint or two of ale.’
As if to confirm what she had said, the door was pushed suddenly open and Joe was wheeled into the kitchen. His face was red from the roughness of the wind and yet there was a euphoric smile on his face, put there no doubt by the amount of ale he’d drunk.
‘Here’s the hero home safe and sound,’ Sam said heartily, swaying a little, unaware of the cold air blasting in through the open door.
‘Thanks, Sam, you’re a good man.’ It was Nina who spoke, who naturally assumed the air of a woman welcoming home her man and his friends. ‘Have a bite of rabbit stew with us, it’s hot on the hob and plenty of it.’
Sam shook his head reluctantly. ‘Got to get my head down, weather is going to be better tomorrow according to Skipper George and I might get a bit of dredging in if I’m lucky.’
He punched Joe lightly on the shoulder. ‘See you, old fellow, we’ll get out to the public again if we can throw off these dragons that we call our womenfolk.’
It was quiet in the kitchen once Carys and Sam had left. Joe had declined supper and wanted only to go to bed. Eline watched quietly as Nina wheeled Joe through to the parlour where his bed was and she stood helplessly by as she heard Nina undressing Joe, washing him down, talking to him in soft encouraging tones. Only when Nina had Joe settled would she walk the short distance back to her own cottage.
Eline sighed; she was useless, she might as well move out, live near the office in Swansea, leave Joe entirely to Nina. It would be the best thing all round.
She hardly slept that night and by morning she had made up her mind to ask Mrs Miller if she might have a room in the emporium as before. She would not expect the elegant suite she’d once been given, any room would do, however small, for, Eline decided, she was out of place in her own home and perhaps she always would be.
Nina was not sorry to see Eline leave Oystermouth and indeed, she hoped it was for good. Naturally the girl would come and visit Joe from time to time, she was duty bound to do so if only to bring money for Joe’s support, but Nina felt a sense of triumph: To all intents and purposes Joe was hers again now.
‘I can’t understand it.’ Joe was seated near the table, picking at his breakfast of bacon and eggs and crispy brown fried bread. ‘What a way for a wife to treat her husband – deserted me, she has, left me alone to fend for myself. What if I didn’t have you, I ask you, what would I do then?’
Joe like all men was too wrapped up in himself to realize that if it wasn’t for Nina, wild horses wouldn’t have dragged Eline away from him.
‘Well, don’t you fret, I’m going to move in with you for good, we’ll live together like we used to and damn what people think. In any case,’ she smiled, ‘folks round here seem to be accepting me now, they can see I’m taking good care of you, Joe.’
‘Aye, well, I’ve done with Eline, she can go and live her own life and good luck to her, but she needn’t think she’s getting anything from me.’
‘What do you mean, Joe?’ Nina asked bluntly. ‘You haven’t got any money, have you?’
‘No, but I got this house, haven’t I? Worth a bit of money it is, mind, and Eline will see none of it when I go.’
‘But …’ Nina stopped herself from blurting out that Eline had been keeping him since his injury, working to support him. It was none of her business to defend Eline to Joe, after all.
‘But nothing,’ Joe smiled. ‘You have stuck by me more than I have ever done by you, Nina love. You gave me a son, God rest his soul, and that’s more then Eline ever gave me.’ He sighed and held Nina close as she rested her cheek against his head.
‘Eline was my dream, my picture of a perfect woman, but she was just a dream. You, Nina, you are the reality and you shall have your reward, don’t you worry.’
‘Don’t!’ Nina said in genuine fear. ‘Don’t talk like that, Joe, do you think I want your house then? I want you Joe, you are my life, don’t you know that yet?’
‘I do.’ He pulled her down on to his knee, wincing a little at the pain in his back. ‘That’s why I want you to know where the deeds are kept.’
‘No, don’t talk like that, Joe.’ Nina kissed his mouth to stop the flow of words but he held her away from him determinedly.
‘I hope to go on for years yet and to be able to walk again, but just in case it don’t work out that way I want you to go to the tin trunk upstairs. There you’ll find a copy of the letter I’ve lodged with Mr Kenyon, the solicitor.’ He smiled, ‘In it, I’ve said the house is to be yours.’
Nina could see that Joe was becoming quite agitated and she rested her hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him. ‘All right, Joe, but hush now is it?’ she begged. ‘I don’t want to hear such talk, it frightens me.’
‘Still,’ Joe caught her arms, ‘I want you to promise that you’ll go and get it if anything happens to me sudden, like.’
‘But what about Eline?’ Nina said suppressing the glow of pride that Joe wanted her to have everything and not his wife.
‘Eline will have what’s left of my boats,’ he said, ‘and in any case, she has her career to think of, she’s made that quite clear.’ There was a tinge of bitterness in his tone and Nina bit her lip.
‘That isn’t very fair, Joe.’ She found herself springing to Eline’s defence; in spite of everything she had come to respect the girl if not to like her.
‘Why isn’t it fair?’ Joe demanded. ‘Did she consult me about going to work? Oh no, madam went her own headstrong way. Well, she’ll survive, she’s self-centred enough not to go without.’
He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it lightly on the palm, a gesture that moved Nina unbearably.
‘In any case, old girl, she’s younger and stronger than us, she can marry again and very probably will.’ He smiled up at Nina. ‘I can’t see you wanting to get hitched again, can you?’
‘No,’ Nina conceded. ‘Without you Joe, I’d be lost.’
‘Right then, that’s settled, let’s not hear any more about it, right?’
Nina gave in. ‘You are the boss, whatever you say goes. Now I’d better get on and do somet
hing round here or we’ll end up living in a pigsty.’
And yet within Nina there was an uneasiness, a faint worrying sense of doom. It wasn’t like Joe to talk about death. She sighed, with Joe, it was a case of living one day at a time and that’s all she could do except what she had always done, loved him with all her being.
Mr Frogmore smiled warmly when he took the painting from Eline’s hands and set it on the broad mantelshelf in his rooms in Mrs Marsh’s boarding house.
‘That is extremely lovely, my dear, it does complete justice to the old house. Let me pay you at once, I’m getting old and inclined to forgetfulness.’
Eline doubted that; Mr Frogmore was a fiery old man with glinting eyes that took in everything.
‘I have a few friends who would love you to paint for them,’ he said. ‘Would you be prepared to travel, my dear Mrs Harries?’
Eline felt a dart of excitement. ‘If it was necessary,’ she said. ‘Although I would prefer to remain within the boundaries of Swansea as much as possible, I would certainly be willing to travel to other parts of the country.’
‘Excellent, well done.’ Frogmore handed her an envelope and Eline was surprised at the generosity of his payment. She glanced up at him quickly. ‘But ten guineas is far too much!’ she protested at once and he looked amused.
‘Nonsense my dear, are you aware of what London artists are charging these days? No, you take my advice and charge double that amount in future.’
Eline took a deep breath, she’d never believed such money could be earned from the hobby she enjoyed so much.
‘Now, I will let my friends know about you, my dear, and if your paintings are as pleasing to them as they are to me, you will be well away.’ He looked at his pocket watch and Eline felt it was time to take her leave.
‘One thing,’ at the door she turned, ‘there is some disquiet in the village, people are talking about the property you are buying, they fear you will open up dance halls and such.’
To Eline’s surprise, Mr Frogmore laughed out loud. ‘Nothing could be further from the truth,’ he said, ‘I belong to the Society of Friends, a Quaker as it is commonly called and I’m looking for suitable premises for a meeting house, that’s all.’
