Stolen Moments

by Rosie Harris

  Or would that also afford him pleasure, inflate his feeling of power, make him even more sadistic? she wondered.

  Her anger against Brynmor over what she had suffered at his hands made her all the more determined not to be intimidated by him.

  If only she could reach David.

  Perhaps what she ought to do was ask Olwen Price or Morgan Edwards to help her to find David.

  She imagined herself walking up to the front door of his home and asking for him by name. The idea sent shivers of excitement through her.

  She paced the room, considering all aspects of such a plan. Gradually her enthusiasm waned. What would happen if she went to David’s home and discovered he wasn’t there? Or, worse still, that he was planning to marry Penelope Vaughan, or had already made her his bride.

  Angrily she pushed such thoughts away. How could she doubt David’s love for her? They had lain together, united not just by sweet loving words but by the power of his body over hers.

  But so had Brynmor lain with her, she shivered.

  As the memory of how Brynmor’s body had dominated hers, the way in which he had forced her to partake in obscene acts, came flooding back, she pulled frantically on the bell cord.

  Glynis arrived, her hair straggling from under her cap, her sacking apron askew, eyes wide, her mouth agape.

  ‘Is something wrong, Miss Kate?’ she panted. ‘I was cleaning out the grates.’ She held out her hands, which were black with coal dust.

  ‘I need hot water, several big jugs full, so that I can take a bath.’

  ‘You mean right now… before I lay master’s breakfast?’ Glynis gasped, her eyes widening still more.

  ‘Yes! Right away. Hurry!’

  While she waited for the water to be brought upstairs, Kate paced the room. She felt sick. Her senses were swimming, her stomach heaving. She fought back the nausea, shuddering at the bitterness of the bile that rose repeatedly into her throat.

  How could Brynmor have treated her so despicably? she fumed. Uncle Charlie’s lasciviousness melted into mere aberration in comparison. She felt unclean. She needed to scrub away every trace of Brynmor’s touch from her body before she could look people in the eye again.

  Would she ever be able to face David knowing her body had been so sullied? How would he react? Would he take her in his arms and comfort her with gentle words, or would he consider her defiled? she wondered.

  She held her head in her hands. How could she have such doubts! David loved her. He would teach Brynmor Edwards a lesson he would never forget, she thought savagely.

  As soon as Glynis arrived with the first jug of water, Kate dragged out the zinc hip bath from the cupboard and placed it in the centre of the room.

  After the final jugful was poured in, Kate locked her bedroom door, stripped off every stitch of clothing and submerged her bruised body. The comforting warmth was soothing. When the water began to cool, she sat up and scrubbed herself vigorously until her skin tingled.

  As she dried herself briskly and began to dress, her confidence returned. She chose a dress of blue and white gingham with a broad, white collar, hoping her demure, pristine appearance would keep her shameful secret hidden from everyone else in the house.

  She studied her reflection in the dressing-table mirror, running a forefinger over her brow, anxiously scrutinizing her face for any change in her looks as a result of the ordeal she had endured. There was none. Her blue eyes were sparkling clear, her skin as smooth and soft as it had always been. Not a single tell-tale wrinkle marred her cheeks.

  She brushed out her hair, tying back the dark curls into a coil behind her ears. Only the pallor of her cheeks conveyed the slightest hint that anything was amiss.

  Morgan Edwards was already in the hall pulling on his outdoor clothes when Kate went downstairs.

  ‘Good morning.’ His greeting was brief but cordial.

  When Mathew told her that Brynmor had gone to Newport and probably wouldn’t be back until the next day, her spirits soared. A day’s breathing space and she would be over the trauma; no one need know her secret.

  She had counted without Olwen Price.

  ‘You’re not intending to have a bath every morning, I trust,’ Olwen Price asked sharply, intercepting Kate as she was on her way upstairs after dinner to tuck Mathew in bed.

  ‘Young Glynis is rushed off her feet as it is first thing in the morning trying to clean out the grates, light the fires and lay the breakfast all before half past seven,’ Mrs Price persisted.

  ‘I’m sorry if it inconvenienced you,’ Kate said with a light shrug.

  ‘It did that all right. It put everything back for the rest of the day,’ Olwen retorted, smoothing down the front of her crisply starched white apron.

  ‘I won’t do it again,’ Kate said quietly, biting her lip and turning away.

  ‘Well, I’m glad that’s settled.’ Olwen Price patted her bun of grey hair in a satisfied manner. ‘Nothing like speaking out and coming to the point, I always say. Much better to set things right than bottle them up and brood about them. Once a thing is out in the open it doesn’t seem half the problem it was. Perhaps you’d better tell me what else is biting you,’ she added huffily.

  ‘Biting me?’

  ‘You’ve not been near the kitchen all day. I thought we were supposed to be friends!’ She laid a hand on Kate’s arm. ‘I’m just going to take a nightcap. Why don’t you join me?’

  Kate hesitated, torn between guarding her secret and the solace she knew she would find in pouring out her story into the older woman’s sympathetic ear.

  ‘I must see to Mathew,’ she murmured evasively, continuing on up the stairs.

  ‘There’s no hurry. You know where to find me. Glynis has already gone up to bed so we won’t be disturbed,’ Olwen Price added meaningfully.

  Kate took her time in settling Mathew. He seemed quiet and withdrawn, not disposed to chatter to her about the day’s events as he sometimes did.

  ‘What’s wrong, Mathew? Are you worried about something?’

  His lips tightened and he pulled away when she tried to stroke his hair.

  ‘Do you want me to leave your candle?’ she asked as she tucked in his blankets.

  When he didn’t reply she bent and kissed him on the brow. ‘Good night then, Mathew. Don’t forget, if you have a nightmare, come along to my room.’

  As she reached the doorway she heard his muffled sob and went back to his bedside.

  ‘I came in last night,’ he whimpered. ‘Brynmor was there with you…’

  Her shocked gasp made him sob louder. She dropped on her knees, cradling him in her arms, her face hot with shame as she wondered what he had seen or heard. Rocking him to and fro she comforted both him and herself, reassuring him that he could come to her at any time.

  She sat by his bed, holding his hand until his steady breathing confirmed that he was asleep, silently praying that in his innocence he had been unaware of what had been going on. Her legs were trembling when she finally crept from the room.

  Halfway to her own room she remembered Olwen Price’s invitation.

  She needed something to calm her and a nightcap might be the very thing, she decided as she made her way down the back stairs.

  ‘So you’ve condescended to come after all,’ Olwen Price sniffed as she unlocked the corner cupboard in her room and reached for the whisky bottle.

  ‘It took time to settle Mathew.’

  ‘Given you up I had.’ She peered more closely at Kate as she passed her drink to her. ‘What’s happened now? You’ve not looked yourself all day, but at the moment you look all in.’

  ‘Just tired.’

  ‘Finding young Mathew a bit of a handful?’

  ‘No, of course not. Mathew is a delight.’ Kate took a long drink from her glass, gasping as the fire of the whisky caught the back of her throat.

  ‘Take it slowly,’ Olwen Price warned.

  ‘I’ll be all right in a minute.’

  ‘Ta
ke your time. When you’re ready, I’m listening,’ murmured Olwen Price, her bright beady eyes narrowing speculatively.

  ‘I don’t know where to start.’

  ‘At the beginning might be best.’

  ‘I’m not even sure if I should be telling you,’ Kate sighed. She twisted her handkerchief, rolling and unrolling the hem between thumb and forefinger, straightening the tiny square of lace-edged linen out on her lap and studying it as if expecting to find the answer written there.

  ‘Here, let me fill up your glass again. Nothing like a drink to help loosen your tongue.’

  Once Kate started the words flowed. Her feelings of hatred towards Brynmor, her disgust and revulsion over his obnoxious behaviour, and her fear in case he ever molested her like that again, were unleashed.

  It was as if every emotion she had ever felt poured out, draining her until she could feel nothing except a great void inside her mind.

  It was a confessional purging that left her exhausted but purified.

  The relief of sharing her turmoil, together with a second glass of whisky, made her feel light-headed.

  ‘I think we’d better have a cup of strong tea after all that,’ Olwen Price commented. ‘I’ve never heard of such goings-on in my life! Not that I don’t believe every word you’ve told me,’ she added quickly. ‘There have been plenty of wild tales about Brynmor and his carryings on, as I’ve already told you, but this… this is almost beyond belief.’

  ‘You mustn’t breathe a word…’

  ‘Master must be told. He’s the one to deal with it and put a stop to such practices once and for all.’

  ‘No, no! I told you in confidence. You gave me your promise.’ Kate’s voice rose hysterically as deep gulping sobs shook her body.

  ‘There, there. I won’t breathe a word to a living soul unless you say so.’

  ‘You promise?’

  ‘I still think master should be told, but if that’s not the way you want things, then I won’t try to force you.’

  ‘No, no one must know. If this got around, just think how upset Mathew would be if he heard it being discussed.’

  ‘Master could deal with Brynmor and hush it all up without anyone else being any the wiser.’

  ‘No, you promised!’ White-faced, Kate grabbed Olwen’s arm.

  ‘It’s your decision.’

  ‘Not a word to a living soul.’

  ‘That’s all very well, but if you say nothing, that little toad, Brynmor, will think he’s got away with such behaviour! And who knows what devilry he will get up to next time?’

  ‘You mean I should think of others beside myself?’

  ‘Indeed I do! Supposing he was to attack young Glynis!’

  ‘He would have to go through your bedroom to get to her,’ Kate reminded her.

  ‘I wouldn’t put it past him having his way with her some place other than the bedroom; animal that he is. You think about it, Kate.’

  Chapter 15

  Brynmor’s persistent attentions haunted Kate.

  She knew she ought to take Mrs Price’s advice and tell Morgan Edwards, but she couldn’t bring herself to talk to him about such calamitous happenings.

  She felt soiled. To have to reveal what was taking place and the strain she was under to a third person, and a man at that, would bring an even deeper shame. The very fact that she had let it go on for almost a month might make him think she condoned what was happening. He might even wonder if she had encouraged Brynmor! But it had to stop. She would go insane if it didn’t.

  She dreaded going to bed at night.

  After the first time she had locked her bedroom door. She would never forget lying there as Brynmor rattled the door knob, calling her name in a hoarse whisper. She had trembled with fear when he put his shoulder to the door and tried to force the lock.

  The following night when she went up to her room she found the key had vanished. She searched the floor and the landing outside, annoyed by her own carelessness that she’d left it in the door.

  Later, when Brynmor had crept into her bed, he had shown her the key, laughing at her dismay. Then, as a form of punishment, he had used it to do unspeakable things to her.

  How could she tell that to Morgan Edwards?

  Brynmor was sick in his mind, there was no doubt about that. Mrs Price confirmed it. But would she speak out when it might cost her not only her job but her home as well?

  Since he had taken to visiting her at night, Brynmor had become more and more erratic in his behaviour. One minute he was moody and introspective, the next he would be making wild jests, teasing Mathew or boasting of his latest achievements.

  Often he left the house before anyone was up in the morning and didn’t return home until dinner was almost finished.

  ‘Brynmor’s work is his life,’ Morgan Edwards would state proudly when explaining his elder son’s absence or excusing his lateness in coming home. ‘When he’s involved in some new process everything else goes from his mind. He forgets the time of day, the time of year even.’

  Kate wished he’d become so involved in some new product or invention that it would take his interest away from her.

  Whenever he was in the house there was no escaping from his insolent stare. He seemed to be in every room she entered.

  Desperate to be on her own, she left the house, taking the road that led to Nantyglo. She’d noticed, when driving out in the trap with Mathew, that before reaching the town there was a steep, narrow road, little more than a track, that seemed to wind upwards to the open hillside behind the rows of houses.

  She climbed for almost twenty minutes, until she reached the crest of the ridge and could see right across to the other side of the valley.

  Breathless, she looked for a sheltered spot where she could rest.

  As she contemplated the arid view, she felt homesick. She thought with longing of the golden ripeness of the Wiltshire countryside in autumn, the fragrance of fruit-laden orchards, great purple clumps of Michaelmas daisies in the cottage gardens and walls covered by the glowing flame of Virginia creeper. So much colour. Here, everything was stunted and drab, shrouded in a brown haze from the ironworks or black dust from the coal mines.

  Even the air had an acrid, sulphurous smell and the coarse tufted grass spiked through her dress.

  Once I find David and can be with him, these grim, unfriendly surroundings will be forgotten, she told herself. She let her thoughts drift, remembering the magical moments at Bramwood Hall when she had been in David’s arms and his lips had been on hers.

  Even those sweet memories were besmirched. Brynmor’s savage attacks dominated her thoughts and filled her with a sense of dread. She had to do something to stop him abusing her, she resolved. And as always when she began pinpointing in her mind how it had all started, her thoughts went back to the morning when she had overslept.

  If only Morgan Edwards hadn’t left the house early that morning, if only he hadn’t asked Brynmor to take Mathew to school. If only Mrs Price had sent Glynis up to waken her. If only Brynmor hadn’t come looking for Mathew.

  So many ‘If onlys’!

  She still couldn’t understand why Brynmor had decided to come to her bedroom to look for Mathew.

  She shivered at the recollection. She had seen lust in a man’s face before, but never accompanied by such an evil glint as there had been in Brynmor’s eyes.

  She bitterly regretted not having told Morgan Edwards right away about what had happened. She’d held back because of Brynmor’s warning that Mathew would be severely punished because he’d been found in her bed. For that to happen just as Mathew was getting over his mother’s death, and taking an interest in his school work, seemed so unfair. Kate couldn’t bear to say or do anything that might undo all that, not now that he was so much more lively and sure of himself.

  Seeing Mathew as happy and carefree as any normal boy of his age had lifted Morgan Edwards’ spirits. In the few weeks she had been at Machen Mawr the grim lines that had been
etched around his mouth and eyes had faded. He no longer watched every move Mathew made, as if on tenterhooks in case something triggered off an asthma attack.

  To undermine all this would have been unforgivable. Yet the cost to her own health and peace of mind, if she didn’t complain about Brynmor, seemed a tremendous price to pay.

  Her temples pounded.

  She covered her eyes with her hands, wondering if she was letting her imagination magnify the night-time horrors she’d endured.

  ‘No!’ She sat bolt upright, shouting her denial aloud.

  Her voice echoed down the valley before being thrown back in a mocking distortion.

  The thought of Brynmor continuing to come to her room every night was abhorrent, something she could endure no longer. She shuddered, her skin crawling, at the memory of his hands on her body.

  ‘No, no, no!’ she muttered, clenching and unclenching her hands. Brynmor must be stopped. She refused to be trapped into giving in to his demands.

  Her mind made up, she resolved to tell Morgan Edwards that very night. She would wait until Mathew was in bed so that there was no possibility of him overhearing the revolting story she had to relate.

  She was sure that Morgan Edwards valued her presence and appreciated what she had done for Mathew. He would know how to deal with the situation. He would put a stop to Brynmor’s nightly visits. Everything would return to normal.

  And if he wouldn’t believe her, what was she to do then? she wondered. He might even tell her to go, to leave Machen Mawr. A chill chased down her back. Well, better that than to be subjected to perpetual abuse and misery, she decided.

  If she was dismissed then she’d waste no more time but go straight to David’s home. He would take care of her.

  A deep sigh escaped her as she remembered his tenderness and the sweetness of the love that had flowered between them. The few times when David had held her in his arms, whispering endearments, now seemed a lifetime away.

  A lump came into her throat as the memories were unleashed. The hard knot inside her began to dissolve. She owed it to David as well as herself to put a stop to what was going on.