by Iris Gower
Rhiannon nodded. ‘I’ll remember, Mrs Buchan, and thank you very much indeed.’
Mrs Jones was waiting for her anxiously. ‘What did her ladyship have to say?’
‘She’s heard about my past life but she’s keeping me on anyway.’
‘Wait till I get hold of Hetty – I’ll flay her alive.’
‘It was nothing to do with Hetty. It was that dried-up old spinster Miss Cookson who told Mrs Buchan about me.’
‘Nasty woman! Never mind – put the kettle on, Rhiannon. I’m that thirsty I could drink the well dry.’
‘Oh, one other thing, Mrs Jones,’ Rhiannon said. ‘Mrs Buchan thinks very highly of you. She told me your good opinion of me was one reason she was keeping me on.’
‘Well I never!’ Mrs Jones sank into a chair, her face wreathed in smiles. ‘And there was I talking of leaving.’ She glanced over her shoulder, but the younger maids were in the scullery. ‘Not that I’d be likely to get a position at my age, mind. I think Mrs Buchan only took me on because she was desperate.’
‘Well, we’re both in a good job and hopefully here we’ll stay.’
The room fell silent – even Hetty and Violet were getting on quietly with their work. Rhiannon heaved a great sigh of relief. Tonight she would sleep easily in her bed, knowing her job was safe. Folk might talk about Mrs Buchan’s temper but Rhiannon had seen another side of her today. Mrs Buchan had taken her on trust and Rhiannon vowed it was a trust she would never betray.
Sal Evans opened her still bruised eyes and looked across the room at the window: the slow, shadowy dawn was beginning to creep across the flagged floor and she felt reluctant to wake up. She heard the clock on the mantelpiece strike the hour and, sighing, sat up. The cold air struck her thin shoulders and she pulled the blanket quickly around her to sit cross-legged gazing sleepily around the none-too-clean kitchen.
The fire was almost out and reluctantly Sal crawled towards the hearth and threw a log onto the embers. The flames licked the log and sprang into life, giving off a comforting glow. She had been here in the bowels of the Paradise Park ever since the night of the beating, but how much longer would the caretaker allow her to stay? Even as the thought crossed her mind she heard steps outside in the passage and the door was pushed open. Quickly, Sal threw another log onto the fire and sparks flew across the hearth fading as she watched.
‘I’m keeping the place warm for you, Mr Bundy,’ she said. He grunted, and as he drew nearer the rancid smell of him almost turned her stomach. Still, he’d been kind to her. He’d found her lying in a pool of blood and had carried her down the back stairs to the kitchen where she’d been ever since.
‘How you feelin’ today, gel?’
‘I’m much better, Mr Bundy,’ Sal said, then added quickly, ‘though my back still aches where that man kicked me, mind.’ She was afraid that once she said she was better he would tell her to leave.
George Bundy scratched his backside. ‘Strange folk, these rich gents, one minute all nice to you then kicking you to death jest because they slept with you.’ He shuffled closer to the fire. ‘They gets to feel guilty see, gel, ’shamed of themselves for sleeping with a whore and a young one at that. They take it out on folk like us to make themselves feel better, I suppose. My throat’s fair parched – I drank a fair bit of beer last night and now I’m paying for it.’
Sal took the hint and scrambled to her feet. ‘I’ll make some tea, Mr Bundy.’
As she leaned closer to the fire the stale smell of her own sweat reached her nostrils. ‘Are you working tonight, Mr Bundy?’ she asked hopefully. With the old man out of the way she could boil up enough water to fill the enamel bowl and wash herself all over.
‘Aye, always working, me. They don’t care if they kill off us old ones with too much work. So long as they gets their pound of flesh the bosses are happy.’
Sal couldn’t have agreed more but it was not her place to say so. ‘The fire’s going good now. Shall I fry you a bit of bacon and some eggs, Mr Bundy?’
‘There’s an idea, gel. I could eat a good breakfast this morning – I feels in the mood, like.’
Mr Bundy had eaten a good breakfast ever since Sal had been sleeping on the kitchen floor. Still, he didn’t ask anything else of her, never tried to feel her breasts or push his hand up her skirt, and for that she was profoundly grateful. He treated her like a lost puppy and she was happy to wait on him till her bruises healed.
Whether her mind would heal was another matter. Sal was afraid now to go into the dark streets outside the Paradise Park. Ever since the beating she’d cowered in the kitchen, afraid of her own shadow.
The appetizing aroma of bacon sizzling in the pan filled the room and Sal grinned. Today she would eat, and tonight she would fall asleep on the floor in front of the fire. For now that was all she could want.
CHAPTER FIVE
KATIE TURNED OVER in bed and opened her eyes. Bull was still asleep, his breathing soft and even. She admired his long eyelashes and resisted the urge to run her finger over the strong line of his jaw – it would be a pity to wake him.
She eased her heavy body into a more comfortable position and the baby inside her kicked a protest. Soon, her daughter would be born. Katie was sure it was a girl, and that Bull would adore her and be a wonderful father.
He opened his eyes and looked at her. ‘Are you all right?’ He propped himself on his elbow, the bedclothes slipping away from his broad shoulders. ‘The baby’s not coming, is it?’
Katie smiled and touched his cheek. ‘No, silly!’ She pulled his head down to hers and kissed him. A cramp caught her side and she fell back against the pillows. ‘You’ll know when the baby’s coming – I’ll be screaming blue murder!’
He took her hand and they lay there silently as the sun began to poke inquisitive fingers through the curtains. Soon Bull would have to get up for work and the bed beside her would be empty. Katie savoured moments like this when she was with Bull in the warm bed.
‘I thought Rhiannon was looking very well,’ Bull said, and the spell was broken.
Katie felt a dart of fear. Did Bull still have feelings for Rhiannon? ‘She’s a beautiful girl, slim and lovely, not fat like me.’
‘Ah, but you’re all mine.’ There was a note of laughter in Bull’s voice. ‘In any case, once you’ve had the baby you’ll be like a willow wand again.’ He squeezed her hand. ‘But I’ll always respect Rhiannon. She’s made the best of a hard life. It takes guts to leave such a past behind her.’
Katie took a deep breath. ‘I know you’re right, Bull, but I worry in case you still have a lingering affection for her.’
He turned her face towards him. ‘Yes, I still have an affection for Rhiannon, but it’s you I love. Don’t have a moment’s doubt about me, cariad. I will never betray you with another woman because when I took my vows I meant every word I said.’
Katie snuggled as close to Bull as her swollen belly would allow. ‘I know I look awful now, Bull, but I’ll try my best to be lovely for you once the baby’s born.’
‘Don’t talk like that! You make my heart ache with love for you, Katie. I’m so full of love that sometimes I don’t think I can bear it.’ He kissed her gently and his hand slid over the swell of her belly. ‘Our baby was made in love and that love will never go away, my darling, so rest easy.’ He kissed her cheek and then her mouth. ‘Now I’ve got to get up for work. There’s some trouble on the line above Swansea and I have to sort it out.’
He slid out of bed and Katie looked at his strong naked body. This fine, handsome, loving man was all hers. Surely she didn’t begrudge Rhiannon just a little bit of his affection.
Bull kissed her again then left the room. When he had gone Katie felt as though the sunlight had faded. She prayed that God would keep her husband safe. Sometimes Bull’s work was dangerous: there were occasional landslides and once a tunnel had cracked sending a shower of stones onto the men servicing the line. She wished he could do some other work but the rai
lways were in his blood: he had been a navvy and would always be a navvy in his heart.
There was a tap on the door and the maid popped her head in. ‘Can I get you up now, Mrs Beynon?’
Katie wondered if she’d ever get used to having people wait on her. ‘Yes, please, Bronnie.’ Katie struggled to sit up. ‘I feel like a cow and my legs hurt like toothache. I didn’t realize having a baby was so wearying.’
‘Oh, my mammy got five of us.’ Bronnie put her arm around Katie’s back and manoeuvred her towards the edge of the bed. ‘Had us all like shelling peas, she did. Five girls, mind.’ Bronnie laughed.
It seemed an age before she was washed and dressed but at last Katie was sitting in the kitchen enjoying the toast Bronnie put in front of her.
The door opened and Mrs Davies, the cook, came into the room. ‘Anything else you want, Mrs Beynon? I got a nice bit of haddock on the cold slab, if you fancy it.’
‘No, thank you, Mrs Davies. I feel full already.’
‘I’m not surprised. You’re carrying a big boy there, mark my words.’
‘I hope not.’ Katie smiled. ‘I’d like a little girl to dress in pretty clothes.’
‘You get what you’re given,’ the cook responded. ‘By the look of it he won’t be long popping out of there and then, my dear, you’ll have a screaming baby to contend with.’
‘I can’t wait,’ Katie said. ‘I can’t wait to hold my baby in my arms and I can’t wait to be slim again.’
Mrs Davies put her head on one side. ‘You’ll be all right. Your sort don’t run to fat.’
‘I hope you’re right.’ Katie drank her tea and gestured towards the pot. ‘Have one yourself, Cook, you too, Bronnie.’ She knew she was over-familiar with her servants but to Katie they were more like friends. She knew they would be loyal to her to the end.
‘Duw.’ Mrs Davies shook her head. ‘Not many folk have treated me as kindly as you, Mrs Beynon.’
‘I’ll second that,’ Bronnie said feelingly. ‘I’m so happy here, Mrs Beynon, and my mam keeps telling me all the time how lucky I am.’
Katie was about to reply when a sharp pain caught her. ‘Oh dear!’ She sucked in her breath and held her stomach. The pain intensified, and she felt a moment of panic. ‘What’s happening? Do you think the baby’s coming, Cook?’
Mrs Davies put down the tea cup. ‘Wouldn’t surprise me. Begging your pardon, Mrs Beynon, let me just feel your belly for contractions. Aye, you’re as tight as a drum. I’d say the boy bach is on his way into the world.’ She began to roll up her sleeves. ‘Bronnie, put the kettle on, girl, let’s have plenty of hot water. Get some clean cloths as well, and a sheet of brown paper to keep the bed fresh and dry.’
‘Had you better go for the midwife, Cook?’ Katie’s voice held a touch of hysteria.
‘All in good time. It will be many hours yet before you hold your little one in your arms. Come on, let’s get you up to bed.’
‘I’ve only just got up!’ Katie forced a smile. ‘It’s not really going to take hours, is it, Cook?’
‘Always does,’ Mrs Davies said. She helped Katie back upstairs and sat her on the bed. ‘I’ll get your shoes off and then I’ll get you into a clean nightgown. Now, don’t you fret, you’re a fine strong girl and the birth won’t be too bad, you’ll see.’
Katie felt as if she was a child again as the cook undressed her and carefully pulled a nightgown over her head.
‘I can see how your belly’s getting tighter and that’s what’s supposed to happen. I know it hurts but it means the baby’s trying to come out into the world.’ She went to the door and called down the stairs. ‘Bronnie, hurry with that brown paper, there’s a good girl.’
Bronnie clattered up the stairs and rushed into the bedroom with clean cloths over her shoulder and the brown paper fluttering like a flag between her fingers.
‘Stand up for a minute, merchi, let’s get the bed ready before your waters break.’ Mrs Davies prepared it deftly, then lowered Katie gently on to it. ‘There, you’ll be all right now. All we got to do is wait for the midwife. Bronnie, go and fetch her now. I’ll get a couple of bowls of nice warm water.’
Katie felt her heart flutter in fear as Mrs Davies left the room. She didn’t want to be alone: the pains were really bad now – they seemed to ebb and flow like the sea, each contraction stronger than the last.
‘Bull, why aren’t you here with me?’ Katie felt tears well in her eyes but brushed them away impatiently: it was stupid to cry when women had babies every day of the week – there was nothing to be frightened about. She moaned as another pain gripped her and then, thankfully, Mrs Davies was back in the room.
‘I’m sorry, Mrs Beynon.’ She looked pale and worried. ‘Bronnie went down the road to call the midwife but she was out on another delivery and no one knows how long she’ll be. Still, Bronnie left a note on her door and I’m sure she’ll come in plenty of time. Anyway, first babies are always slow.’
Katie tried to relax but the pains had intensified. ‘Cook, I’m frightened, can Bronnie go to find Mr Beynon?’
‘Aye, I’ll send her right away, but you keep calm. You’ve a while to go yet.’
The cook left the room and Katie could hear her giving instructions to the maid. ‘Mr Beynon will be up beyond high-street station I expect, girl. Tell him his wife’s time has come and he’s wanted here.’
Mrs Davies was soon back and she sat on the bed holding Katie’s hand. ‘That little brew of herbs I made up for you yesterday, I’ve put it to simmer on the fire. It’s not very nice to taste but it might help you sleep a bit.’
Katie knew that nothing would make her sleep: the pains were getting faster and more intense by the minute. But she was wrong, the brew Mrs Davies gave her was vile but almost straight away she felt sleepy.
The time seemed to pass in a haze and Katie wondered if the baby would ever be born. Questions crept through her mind: where could the midwife be and why wasn’t Bull here?
It was after midday when a fierce urge to bear down took Katie’s breath away. She closed her eyes tightly with the effort, grunting low in her throat as she struggled to give birth. She was wide awake now, and when the pain subsided she looked up at Mrs Davies. ‘You’d better help me. My baby is coming and it looks like you’re going to be the one to deliver it.’
Mrs Davies came to the bed and looked down at Katie’s straining body. ‘I think you’re right, merchi. Here, let me hitch up your nightgown – it’s no time for modesty. Let’s get this little ‘un of yours into the world.’
Bull Beynon was thinking of Katie as he walked along the track beside one of the navvies. Her time was near and he wished he could have stayed with her this morning. The man walking beside him coughed, jarring Bull out of his thoughts.
‘Good thing you spotted that cracked bit of track, Seth,’ Bull said, ‘or we could all have been in deep trouble.’ He tapped the toe of his boot against it. ‘This piece of line will have to be replaced.’
‘Aye, sir, this broad-gauge track, it’s no good, yer know. Before long all railways will be using the narrow gauge – I’ll wager my week’s pay on it.’
‘Maybe you’re right,’ Bull said, ‘but for now this line needs maintenance. Get the men on to it right away and remember to tell the signalman to switch tracks from here to Swansea.’
Bull left the trackside and made his way towards the high street: he was meeting several of the Great Western Railway shareholders. He was getting used to lunching at the Mackworth in the company of the town’s elite. It surprised him even now to realize how far he’d come from his old life as a navvy. Yet he’d enjoyed those days – days of challenges when he’d thought the line from Chepstow to Swansea would never be finished. His thoughts turned to Rhiannon: she was a lovely girl who had made the best of her life in spite of the bad start she’d had. After old Cookson died she’d found a place with Mrs Jayne Buchan and was doing well, he’d heard.
‘Hello, Bull.’ He looked up and blinked.
>
‘Why so startled? I’m not a ghost. It’s me, Rhiannon – you know, the girl you used to live with.’
He smiled at the irony in her words. ‘I was surprised to see you, that’s all. I was just thinking about you.’
She was fresh and lovely, her dark hair, free of her bonnet, lifting in the wind. He remembered how intimate they’d been, but he had no regrets: now he had his Katie, his beautiful wife, and he would never want any other woman.
‘You look well, Bull, and how is Katie?’
‘She’s getting rather big now,’ he smiled, ‘and she can’t wait for the baby to be born. She’s set her heart on having a girl so I hope she’s not disappointed.’
‘Once it comes she’ll love it whatever it is. That’s the way we women are.’
Bull looked at Rhiannon with fresh eyes. Had she ever borne a baby? How little he knew of her in spite of the months they’d spent together.
‘I hear you’re working for Mrs Buchan now, Rhiannon. Are you happy?’ He watched her shrug her shoulders and frown. She had often told him that happiness was an elusive goal that she would never reach, but she seemed content with her life.
Her next words confirmed what he’d been thinking. ‘I’m secure there, well fed and clothed, and with a nice warm bedroom all to myself.’ She flashed him a smile. ‘There was one tricky moment, though. When Mrs Buchan found out about my past she was going to dismiss me.’
‘What stopped her?’
‘It’s almost as if she admired me for getting out of that old way of life.’
‘She’s not alone in that. I admire you too, Rhiannon.’
Her colour rose. ‘Do you, Bull?’
He took a deep breath. ‘If I wasn’t in love with Katie I’d be proud to have you on my arm, Rhiannon. Any man who wins your heart will be a lucky fellow.’
‘My heart is already taken.’ He knew she wasn’t being coy, that she was just telling him the truth. ‘But I know you well enough by now not to expect anything. You’re an honourable man, Bull, perhaps the only honourable man I’ve ever met.’
