by Iris Gower
The task of finding Guy Fairchild was more difficult than she had thought. It might even be that she was here on a wild-goose chase. And even if she did find Mr Fairchild, would he welcome her or would he simply tell her to mind her own business? She settled back in her seat.
Rhiannon faced the servants, who had gathered in her office, and tried to think of encouraging phrases to cover the catastrophe but none came. She decided to settle for straight talking and hope they understood. She saw Mrs Jones ease one foot out of her shoe and hid a smile: the old cook would stick by her, she had no doubt of that. So would Sal, but Violet and Hetty might want to move on to more secure positions.
‘We’re in trouble,’ Rhiannon said. ‘As you know, Mrs Paisley’s ill and has to take things easy until she’s well on the road to recovery.’
There was a murmur of assent from the servants.
‘I’m afraid there’s more bad news,’ she went on. ‘Money has been stolen from Mrs Paisley’s desk.’ She held up her hand as Violet and Hetty looked at each other and began to talk at once. ‘No one here is suspected, but at the moment I haven’t got the money to pay you for your work.’
It was Mrs Jones who spoke up. ‘We been in that pickle before, cariad, and we can manage again, I’m sure.’ She paused. ‘But who do you think took the money, Rhiannon?’
‘Well, it’s hard to tell, what with the workmen all over the place, but I do know it was none of you.’ She looked around the group of servants and waited for them to speak.
‘Well, I’m staying put,’ Hetty said firmly. ‘I’ve got a good bed and enough to eat and, what’s more, I like working here in the hotel.’ She glanced at Violet coaxingly. ‘And we do get our time off regularly.’
Violet nodded. ‘Aye, I might as well stay, I suppose.’ She grinned. ‘Who knows? I might meet a handsome guest who’ll carry me off and treat me fine!’
Rhiannon raised her eyebrows but refrained from commenting. ‘Good, we’ve got our main staff, then, but we can’t get a boy in to help with the luggage. We’ll have to manage that between us.’
‘I’ve just thought of something,’ Violet said quickly. ‘I saw Seth hanging about the office the other day. Might not mean anything, mind.’
Sal spoke up for the first time. ‘Don’t go blaming Seth, he’s honest as the day.’
Rhiannon held up her hand. ‘We mustn’t start quarrelling over this. I’m not pointing the finger at anyone.’ She moved away from her desk. ‘Look, we’ve got a few minutes so let’s all go down to the kitchen, have a cup of tea and work out how we’re going to feed our guests until the end of the month.’
‘I’ll run down and put the kettle on,’ Violet said, brightening up at the thought of a break in the middle of the afternoon, and disappeared with a swish of her skirts.
The others followed at a more leisurely pace, taking the lead from Mrs Jones, who was getting slower on her feet. ‘It’s my chilblains playing me up,’ she explained.
‘Well, you shouldn’t sit with your feet up against the fire, should you?’ Hetty snapped.
‘Wait till you’re my age, my girl,’ Mrs Jones rounded on her, ‘you might have bad feet by then.’
Hetty snorted and pushed back a tangle of golden hair that had escaped from her cap. ‘I’ll be an old married lady by then with a bunch of grandchildren round my feet.’
Sal gave her a little push. ‘You’d better be quiet, Hetty, ’cos no man wants a shrew for a wife.’
Rhiannon listened with amusement. The news about the theft of money had made no lasting impression on the women: they were more concerned with mundane things like tea and chilblains. She felt more optimistic now: somehow they would get through to the end of the month when the guests paid their bills.
In the kitchen she sat for a while drinking tea and listening to the girls sparking off each other, until eventually she put down her cup and got to her feet. ‘I’d better go and see Mrs Paisley. Hetty, will you make sandwiches and some tea and bring them up for me?’
‘All right, it won’t take a tick.’
Mrs Paisley was well enough now to sit in a chair, but it was thought wise to keep the bed in her office for the time being. When she saw Rhiannon she handed her a letter.
‘What’s that?’ Rhiannon asked.
‘It’s from Dr Frost. Did I tell you he called when you were out and gave me a good checking over?’
Rhiannon’s heart sank. ‘It’s probably his bill.’ She unfolded the letter. She read it quickly and looked at Mrs Paisley in bewilderment. ‘Why is he letting us off his fee?’
‘Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, Rhiannon. Just be glad I told him about our misfortune.’
Rhiannon felt hot colour flood into her face and words of anger rose to her lips. She suppressed them: what good would it do to upset Mrs Paisley and perhaps make her sick again? Still, she couldn’t let the bill go unpaid.
‘Hetty is bringing you some tea in a minute.’ Rhiannon tucked the note into her pocket. ‘I’d better get on – there’s lots to do.’ Her first task was to see the doctor and put him straight on a few things.
Outside in the street, she took out the letter and looked at the address. Her heart missed a beat: the doctor lived almost next door to Bull Beynon. Perhaps she might catch a glimpse of him.
She walked swiftly, her skirts billowing around her ankles. She had no idea of how striking she looked, the autumn colours of her cloak setting off her dark hair to perfection. It did not take her long to reach the doctor’s house but, to her disappointment, there was no sign of Bull. Even though she lingered outside his house for longer than was necessary she could tell by the dark windows that no one was home.
A young maid opened Dr Frost’s door and stared at Rhiannon with a puzzled frown. ‘The doctor isn’t seeing any more patients today, madam. I’ve had strict instructions not to let anyone else in. He’s fair worn out.’
‘I’m here to consult the doctor about a bill, not about my health,’ Rhiannon said firmly.
The maid stepped back at once to let her into the hall. ‘That’s good, that is. The doctor don’t often get his bills paid, too soft-hearted by far he is.’
Rhiannon was shown at once into the drawing room and Dr Frost was happy to see her. A fire burned in the grate and the easy chairs pulled up to it looked inviting.
‘Miss Rhiannon, how nice of you to call, but I sorted out the business of the bill with Mrs Paisley. Didn’t she tell you?’ He gestured towards one of the chairs. ‘Please sit down.’
Rhiannon’s feet were aching and so was her back – she’d been at work on the accounts since early that morning, trying to stretch a few shillings. ‘I’m not here to pay your bill, Doctor,’ she said softly, ‘well, not now anyway.’
‘Please, call me Richard, and forget about the bill.’
‘I can’t do that, but I’ve a proposition to put to you.’
‘I’m not a rich man but I do have a little money put aside. If it would help I’d gladly . . .’ His voice trailed off as Rhiannon held up her hand.
‘No!’ she said quickly. ‘Thank you very much . . . but I’m not asking for money. What I have for you is a business proposition.’
‘I’m listening.’ He smiled and Rhiannon saw that he was a handsome man. He was also kind and honourable, the sort she had rarely come across.
‘What if you become the hotel doctor? You would see to anyone taken ill at our hotel. Those patients would pay immediately for your services and the reputation of the hotel would be enhanced into the bargain.’
‘Anything that enables me to work with you will be a pleasure. What you suggest is a splendid idea and I welcome it. As you have guessed, my patients are few because I’m new to the district.’
‘Well, then, you agree?’
‘I most certainly do. Now, may I offer you some refreshment? Tea, perhaps?’
Rhiannon got to her feet. ‘It’s very kind of you but I must get back to work.’
He walked with her to the door. �
�I look forward to doing business with the Paradise Park in the near future.’ He laughed, a pleasant sound. ‘Not that I wish any of your guests ill but when away from home minor ailments do occur and I will be ready to treat them.’
Rhiannon said goodbye and retraced her steps to the hotel, where the appetizing smell of cooking welcomed her. She pushed open the door and handed her coat to Sal, who had obviously been waiting for her. ‘Come down to the kitchen, Rhiannon,’ she said, tugging at Rhiannon’s arm.
‘Oh, no, what’s gone wrong now?’
‘Nothing’s wrong, far from it. Just wait until you see what we’ve managed to get while you were gadding about.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I went down the market just before it was closing,’ Sal said. ‘Vi and Hetty came with me. You’ll be so pleased when you see what we brought back.’
The kitchen table was full of vegetables, cabbage, beans and potatoes.
‘How did you pay for these, Sal?’ Rhiannon asked warily.
Sal burst out laughing. ‘Just look at your face! It’s all right, I didn’t get up to my old tricks. I just offered to clear up the stalls, scrub down the carts, that sort of thing, and in exchange, I got the vegetables.’
Violet was practically hopping up and down on the spot. ‘And me! Don’t forget the ’orrible job I ’ad scrubbing down the fish carts. Ugh! Those scales sting like Old Nick, I can tell you, they stick in your fingers like needles.’ She stood back to reveal the cold slab. ‘But just look at the lovely fish I’ve got – and all for an hour or two’s work.’
‘Don’t forget Hetty,’ Mrs Jones said. For once her tone was approving. ‘She got the best bargain of the lot. Brought home a lovely bit of topside of beef and another of silverside, she did. The topside’s in the oven now and cooking just lovely it is too.’
Hetty glowed at the praise and Rhiannon realized the girl would have been a beauty if she hadn’t always been in a bad mood. But perhaps she had never had anything to be happy about – she’d had to fend for herself from an early age.
‘Thank you, girls, you’ve all been very clever, especially you, Hetty.’
Hetty glowed. ‘Well, I know I aren’t always easy to get on with but this is the first time I’ve belonged anywhere. I look on you all as my family, the only real family I’ve ever known, and I’m not going to lose that willingly.’
Tears brimmed in Rhiannon’s eyes. The loyalty and the kind-heartedness of the girls warmed her heart. Just when everything looked black, it seemed that the clouds really did have a silver lining.
‘So we’ll feed our guests well now and in the future, because the girls are planning to go and work every market day.’ Mrs Jones sniffed. ‘And I agree with Hetty. We’re family now, your family, Rhiannon, and like every other family on earth we’ll pull together, come what may.’
‘All I can say is thank you, from the bottom of my heart.’ Rhiannon swallowed the lump in her throat. ‘I won’t forget this ever, and so long as I have breath in my body I’ll see that you all stay with me, whatever I’m doing and wherever I’m working.’
Violet chuckled. ‘What about when you gets married? You won’t want us with you then, will you?’
‘I’ll never get married,’ Rhiannon said, and she meant it. The only man she would ever love was Bull Beynon and Katie’s ghost would always be between them.
‘Right then, supper’s oh the way but we want some roast potatoes done,’ Mrs Jones said. ‘I’ve boiled the stiffness out of them so, Vi, you just pop them in the oven for me, there’s a good girl.’
Rhiannon stirred herself. ‘And I’ve got to get the table set for our guests. Sal, will you come and help me?’
At the top of the kitchen steps Rhiannon put her arm around Sal. ‘Thank you, Sal, I know you were the leader. The other girls wouldn’t have thought of cleaning up at the market.’
‘Aye, it takes us street girls to know how to feed ourselves, how to make a meal out of nothing, and how to keep clothes on our back.’ She smiled slyly. ‘And how to make a man happy.’
‘Well, we’ve got guests to keep happy now, Sal,’ Rhiannon said shortly, ‘and we’d better get on with it or they will be having their supper at breakfast time.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
JAYNE WAS LYING on the bed, staring up at the ceiling and wondering how much longer she could stand being a prisoner. She had cried many tears, longed for Guy then cursed him for not coming to save her. But why would he, when he thought she no longer cared for him? She heard the rattle of the doorknob and sat up, swinging her feet to the floor.
Her husband entered the room and looked at her strangely. Then he held the door wide. ‘Go on, you’re free to go. I’ve had enough of you.’
Jayne wondered if this was some cruel trick. ‘Do you mean it, Dafydd, or are you just playing with me?’
‘I mean it. Go home to your precious father.’
Jayne slid off the bed. ‘This wouldn’t have anything to do with Llinos’s visits, would it?’ she asked.
‘Just be glad I’m letting you go. If you want to ruin your life, that’s up to you.’ He followed her as she stepped out on to the landing and Jayne glanced at him over her shoulder. Perhaps even now when freedom seemed to be hers it would be snatched away from her.
‘I’ve called a hansom cab and given the driver your father’s address.’ He put his hand on her shoulder and Jayne flinched.
‘Don’t worry,’ his tone was bitter, ‘I’ve no intention of ravishing you. I’ll forgo that dubious pleasure. There are many women who would love me, so why should I hold on to one who cares nothing for me? And, yes, you’re right, it was Llinos who helped me see the futility of keeping you here.’ He smiled, but without humour. ‘She always meant more to me than you. She’s a real woman, a loving, passionate woman, while you are just a child.’
Jayne resisted the urge to give him the tongue-lashing he deserved: all she wanted now was to get out of this hateful place and away from her husband for good.
She waited in the gloomy hall while a silent serving girl brought her cloak. When Dafydd opened the door it was all she could do to stop herself rushing outside.
The sun warmed her and she realized how much she had missed the simple pleasure of being outdoors: the whole world looked bright and shining, the trees were swaying, dappling the forecourt with light and shade, and Jayne breathed in the sweet air, unable to believe her imprisonment was over.
The cab was waiting, the driver holding the reins loosely between his fingers. Dafydd helped her into the seat and Jayne leaned away from him, putting as much distance between him and herself as she could.
‘Jayne,’ Dafydd said, ‘I won’t apologize for my behaviour. You had your revenge by sleeping with my best friend. Since I found out about Guy I’ve been like a man possessed, wanting to punish you, but I’ve come to understand that I don’t want you any more and perhaps I never did.’ The words seemed hard for him to say, and somehow they didn’t ring true. She looked into his eyes for the first time since she left the bedroom and what she saw there shocked her: Dafydd was in love with her.
The driver clicked his tongue at the horse and the cab jerked into motion. Jayne stared back at her husband as he stood on the steps of the gaunt, grey building where he’d made her a prisoner and all her anger evaporated: Dafydd was a man alone without love and at last he’d recognized that it was all his own doing.
She turned away from him and settled back in the seat, closing her eyes against the wave of joy that swept over her. She was going home to her father and perhaps, just perhaps, she might be able to find Guy and make all her dreams come true.
Rhiannon stood in the foyer of the hotel, her hands clasped together as she prepared to meet the flurry of new guests. They were not businessmen but holidaymakers, men with their wives and children who had come to Swansea to taste the delights of the five-mile stretch of golden sand and the mild air drifting in from the Bristol Channel.
Mrs Paisley, still pale
and coughing, joined her in the foyer. She was wearing her hat as she always did and held herself erect as the guests came into the hotel.
Mr and Mrs Powers from Yorkshire arrived first and suddenly the hotel seemed filled with light and laughter as their children chattered excitedly about the sand and the sea, and the bathing huts on the golden beach.
Rhiannon welcomed the guests and Mrs Paisley stood like royalty, accepting the tribute the visitors were paying her hotel and her town. They said Swansea was beautiful, its atmosphere so bracing.
‘I hope you’ll enjoy your stay here, Mr Powers,’ Rhiannon said, then turned to his wife. ‘Mrs Powers, if you need any help from my staff please don’t hesitate to ask.’
She led the family of two adults and four children, with their nurse, up the stairs to a suite of the larger rooms. ‘Once you’re settled I’ll send up a tray of tea and some cordial for the children.’
‘Tea would be welcome,’ Mrs Powers said, in a soft voice. Rhiannon recognized that her hotel was being patronized by real gentry and felt proud. She took leave of the family with a polite reminder that they should ask if they needed anything.
Mrs Paisley was waiting in the foyer and looked up expectantly as Rhiannon came towards her. ‘Are they happy with their rooms?’
‘Delighted.’ Rhiannon sat alongside Mrs Paisley, noting how breathless the old lady was. ‘But you should be resting. I’m quite capable of welcoming the guests on my own.’
Mrs Paisley put her thin hand over Rhiannon’s. ‘Let me enjoy a little bit of pleasure, my dear.’ She sighed. ‘I know I’m not much use in any practical way, which is why I put you in charge of everything with the bank, but I’m not too old to welcome people into our hotel.’
Rhiannon smiled. ‘It’s kind of you to call it “our hotel” but, really, it’s yours. You put in the money and all I’ve done is run it for you.’
Mrs Paisley looked at her steadily. ‘You’ve done a great deal more than I can ever thank you for. If it wasn’t for you, and the love the servants have for you, we would have had to close for lack of money almost as soon as we opened our doors.’
