Paradise Park

by Iris Gower

  ‘What is going on here?’ His tone was stern. ‘Does Mrs Beynon know that her servants cavort like heathens under her nose? Give me your name, man, so that I can advise Mrs Beynon whom she should dismiss.’

  The pair sprang apart. ‘I’m Seth, sir, and this is Sal. We’re walking out.’

  ‘That does not excuse unseemly behaviour. I’m leaving but later I intend to bring this matter to Mrs Beynon’s attention.’

  Seth indicated the back door. ‘Quicker if you go this way rather than back through the hotel.’

  The man was so brazen he was actually smiling. ‘I don’t know what you have to laugh about, man. I’m sure Mrs Beynon won’t see the funny side of all this. First I find people booking rooms who are not even man and wife, and now I find the servants acting as though such behaviour was the order of the day.’

  ‘Lor’ bless you, sir,’ Seth opened the big back doors. ‘Rhiannon wouldn’t say a word about me and Sal getting together. She done it all herself, see?’

  ‘What on earth do you mean?’ Richard stared at the man. He was talking gibberish. Rhiannon would be as shocked as he was if she knew what was going on in her hotel.

  ‘I mean, she was one of the girls herself,’ Seth said easily. ‘She don’t try to hide it neither. Rhiannon was a shanty-town woman and now she’s bettered herself and I take my hat off to her.’

  Richard felt a rush of horror, quickly followed by incandescent rage. ‘Mrs Beynon a whore? I don’t believe you – I should knock your head off for even thinking such a thing.’

  Seth looked puzzled. ‘Didn’t you know about her past, then, sir? She was all right when she lived with Bull Beynon, see, got respectable then, no more walking the streets, like.’

  ‘Oh, my good Lord!’ Richard said, as the blood rushed to his head. He’d been a fool – he’d offered for the hand of a woman no better than she should be.

  Seth put his hand over his mouth. ‘Sorry, sir, I thought everyone knew about Rhiannon. And then there’s Sal, same thing, she was a street girl but I don’t mind that. I love Sal and I mean to marry her one day when she’s older, never mind what she used to be.’

  Richard pushed the man aside and stepped out on to the quiet back-street, feeling as though the whole world was tumbling around him. He had practically proposed to a whore!

  Well, he would never forgive Rhiannon Beynon for this. He would make her pay dearly for humiliating him in such a way and what better time to do it than at the Grand Opening of which she was so proud? He began to walk more swiftly, not seeing the street pedlars or the sun-dappled roadway: his mind was on something much more important. He was plotting his revenge.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  RHIANNON WOKE EARLY and sat up to gaze at the mellow sun streaking into the room. She ran her fingers through her long hair, unaware of how the cloud of dark tresses accentuated her fine-boned face. Excitement gripped her. Her hotel, the Paradise Park, had become one of the best in Swansea and she had played an important part in its success.

  Violet came into the room with a tray of tea and biscuits, and set it on the table beside the bed. ‘Tomorrow’s the big day, in’t it exciting?’

  Rhiannon smiled. ‘It is exciting, Vi, and whoever thought we’d come this far?’ She picked up the cup and sipped the hot tea with a sense of pleasure. She was now looked on as a respectable businesswoman and the shame of her past was gone, lost in the mist of time.

  It was not surprising really, though: the men she slept with had been from the ordinary working classes, navvies mainly, and most of them had moved on with the railway. A few of the ladies of the town might remember Mrs Buchan taking her in, training her to be a housekeeper, but none of them had ever set eyes on her. No, her past was not going to interfere with her life as she lived it now.

  She put down her cup and picked up the list of guests who would be attending the opening. Most of the town dignitaries, including the mayor, had accepted the invitation and quite a few of the more respected families of the town too.

  Rhiannon had left invitations in all of the bedrooms for the guests so the ceremony was going to be well attended, there was no doubt about that.

  She must run over her speech of welcome, make sure it was dignified, yet with a touch of humour; the servants would have handed round liberal amounts of good wine by the time she got up to speak and, hopefully, the atmosphere in the ballroom would be genial. Rhiannon had butterflies in her stomach as she thought of standing before a roomful of strangers. It was a pity Mrs Paisley didn’t feel up to conducting the opening ceremony – she was much more used to public occasions.

  The old woman was still lying in her bed when, a little while later, Rhiannon went to talk to her. She was looking careworn and her eyes, usually bright as a bird’s, were dull.

  ‘Good morning, Rhiannon.’ Mrs Paisley sat up with difficulty and did her best to smile. ‘Are you all ready for the big day, then?’

  ‘I will be when you promise to be at the ceremony. It’s not until tomorrow and perhaps you’ll have more strength by then.’ Rhiannon took the old lady’s hand. ‘How are you feeling today?’

  ‘I’m all right, Rhiannon. Don’t forget you’ve been ill yourself and you’re still looking peaky – you should think of yourself more.’

  ‘I’m much better now.’ Rhiannon felt a tug at her heartstrings. ‘Bull nursed me like a mother and I can’t tell you how kind he was to me.’

  ‘You still love him, don’t you?’

  Rhiannon was taken aback at Mrs Paisley’s forthright question but she decided she might as well be honest. ‘I’ll always love him.’

  ‘But you’ve got the doctor paying court to you now and you’d be a fool to turn him down.’

  ‘Aye, Richard might be keen now but if he knew of my past he’d run a mile.’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘You forget, I’ve known many men. I know what makes them happy and it’s not marrying a whore.’ She shook her head. ‘Whores will do things for money that a wife would not countenance.’

  ‘It’s not like you to be so blunt,’ Mrs Paisley said gently. ‘Look, girl, you know I’m very fond of you, don’t you? Well, I’ve made a will leaving my share of the business to you.’

  ‘Don’t talk like that, please!’ Rhiannon said. ‘You’re strong, you’ll outlive me, don’t you worry!’

  Mrs Paisley pursed her lips. ‘That’s nonsense, and we both know it. But when I go, you’ll be all right. You’ve made this hotel what it is. All I did was to put down the deposit on the building but you furnished the place and decorated it, then kept it running with your friends when we had little or no money.’ She smiled, and Rhiannon saw how beautiful Mrs Paisley must have been when she was young. ‘It’s because of you that our venture paid off.’ Mrs Paisley finished the sentence on a huge yawn.

  Rhiannon tucked the blankets around her. ‘Rest now so you’ll be bright and breezy to face tomorrow.’

  ‘Very well, I’ll do as you say. But, Rhiannon, whatever happens, the opening ceremony must go on, promise me.’

  Her words made Rhiannon feel uneasy. ‘Of course the ceremony will go on. What on earth could happen to stop it?’

  ‘Quite right.’ Mrs Paisley snuggled down under the blankets. ‘Now, go away and stop pestering me. I want to sleep.’

  Rhiannon left the room, closing the door quietly behind her. In the passageway the sun was still shining but, all at once, the day seemed dark.

  ‘She’s gone away with that fellow and she didn’t even say goodbye to me. I can’t understand it.’ Eynon slumped in his chair.

  ‘Jayne had to follow her heart, my love. She didn’t mean to hurt you, I can promise you that.’

  ‘Well, she has hurt me,’ Eynon said.

  Llinos hid a smile. He sounded just like a sulky child. She put her arms round him and held him close. ‘Jayne has her own life to lead now, and though we might not be easy with the path she’s chosen we have to accept it’s what she wants. She loves Guy, really loves
him, and would you want her to live most of her life without love?’

  He looked up into her face. ‘That’s what I did.’

  Llinos kissed him and his lips tasted sweet. Her heart ached with love for him. She had always loved him, even though she might not have known it. It didn’t diminish her love for Joe: her husband had been as close to her as her own heartbeat. Yet Eynon had always been there deep inside her. ‘And did it make you happy, my love, pining for what you couldn’t have?’

  Eynon shook his head. ‘You know it didn’t. I never knew what real happiness was until the day you married me.’

  ‘Well, then, let your daughter find happiness while she’s young. Now, let’s change the subject, shall we? How about this invitation to the opening ceremony of the Paradise Park Hotel? I’m sure you’d like to go. Weren’t you interested in buying the place at one time?’

  ‘I was, but I’m not sure I want to go to the opening. Everyone will be gawping at us, talking behind their hands about my daughter running off with another man. I’m not sure I could put up with that.’

  Llinos took his hand in hers. ‘You put up with it when I was disgraced, or have you forgotten that?’

  ‘That was different,’ Eynon said.

  ‘How was it different? You loved me then, so you say, and you were still my friend. Gossip didn’t turn you against me, did it?’

  Eynon smiled. ‘All right, then, we’ll go to the blasted ceremony, if that’s what you really want.’

  ‘In that case,’ Llinos said playfully, ‘you’d better take me to town to pick up my new hat and gown.’

  Eynon stood up and took her into his arms. ‘You wicked woman, you know how to get round a man when it comes to spending his money.’

  Llinos disengaged herself from his embrace. ‘Well, my secret’s out, I married you for your money.’

  Eynon picked up a cushion and made a pretence of throwing it at her. ‘Get out, woman, before I give you the good hiding you deserve.’

  Llinos closed the door behind her and sighed. She’d persuaded Eynon to mingle with the Swansea gentry at the hotel ceremony but she knew it would be an ordeal for both of them. As Eynon had pointed out, folk would be pointing them out as the odd couple.

  She could imagine what they would be saying: that she was no better than she should be and now her stepdaughter was going down the same road. Still, the gossips would have to be faced at some time, and tomorrow was as good a day as any.

  As the day wore on, Rhiannon’s concern for Mrs Paisley grew and by tea-time she knew the old lady was really ill. She sent Violet to fetch Dr Frost and was amazed when the girl came back almost at once, tears trembling on her lashes.

  ‘What on earth’s wrong, Vi?’ Rhiannon caught her arm. ‘Why isn’t the doctor with you?’

  ‘He was so strange. He told me he had better things to do than run up to the Paradise Park every five minutes.’

  Rhiannon frowned. ‘That doesn’t sound like Dr Frost. Are you sure he wasn’t sick himself?’

  ‘His face was like a thunder cloud when I told him he was needed here.’

  Rhiannon wondered what on earth had come over him. Why was he acting so strangely?

  ‘All right, go and fetch another doctor, Vi, there’s a good girl, and be quick about it.’

  Rhiannon didn’t have time to worry about Richard’s strange behaviour because Mrs Paisley suddenly took a turn for the worse. Her breathing was laboured and her face was like parchment.

  Rhiannon sat at her side, a bowl of cool rosewater on a table nearby. Every few minutes she dipped the cloth in the bowl and bathed Mrs Paisley’s burning forehead. By the time Violet returned with the doctor, an old man with a white beard and a kindly look in his eyes, Mrs Paisley was asleep.

  ‘Her breathing’s bad, Doctor,’ Rhiannon said, ‘and she hasn’t opened her eyes for over an hour.’

  The doctor listened to the old woman’s heart for what seemed a long time, then shook his head. Rhiannon knew what that meant and a great dread filled her. Mrs Paisley couldn’t die, not now when they were so near their moment of triumph.

  ‘How long?’ Rhiannon whispered.

  The doctor snapped his bag shut. ‘There’s no telling. It might be hours, might be days.’

  Rhiannon made an effort to think straight. She must see that the doctor was paid for his services. She followed him from the room. ‘Your bill, Doctor, do you think you could send it up to me? I don’t want to leave Mrs Paisley alone for too long.’

  The old doctor nodded, and Rhiannon watched him go downstairs and through the door with a feeling of dread. She wanted to drag him back although she knew there was nothing he could do.

  When Rhiannon returned to the room Mrs Paisley’s eyes were open. The old woman held up her hand and Rhiannon took it. ‘You must promise me you’ll go on with the Grand Opening, or I’ll not rest easy.’ It was an effort for her to talk: each word came out as a gasp.

  ‘I promise,’ Rhiannon said, her voice full of tears.

  Mrs Paisley patted her hand. ‘You’re a good girl, the finest I’ve ever met.’ She closed her eyes wearily. ‘You’ve been like the daughter I never had and I’m proud of you, girl, so proud.’

  Rhiannon fought the tears that burnt in her eyes. ‘And you’ve been better than a mother to me. Don’t leave me, please, don’t leave me.’

  Mrs Paisley gave a big sigh and then, as Rhiannon watched, the breath left her body.

  Rhiannon didn’t know how long she sat there holding the cold hand, refusing to believe Mrs Paisley was gone from her for ever. It was only when Mrs Jones came into the room and took Rhiannon in her arms that she began to cry great gulping sobs that hurt her chest.

  ‘There, there,’ Mrs Jones said gently, ‘you did all you could, girl, no one could have done more. Come downstairs and let me make you a nice hot cup of tea. That will make you feel better.’

  Rhiannon allowed herself to be led downstairs and into the warm kitchen, which was full of the smell of bread baking. The fire was blazing in the hearth but suddenly Rhiannon began to shiver. She knew in that moment that her life, without Mrs Paisley, was never going to be the same again.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  BULL STARED AT the invitation to the Grand Opening of the Paradise Park, not sure that it was wise for him to attend. It was Rhiannon’s moment of triumph, setting the seal on her efforts to put her past behind her and be a respectable citizen of Swansea. She wouldn’t want him there as a reminder of what she’d once been.

  He sank into his chair, looked around the elegant room and pondered on his own rise from navvy to inspector and manager; his comfortable home had been made his by the goodwill of the engineers on the Swansea line, men who respected his knowledge of the Great Western Railway. It was a lovely home, yet without a loving wife to share it with him it seemed empty.

  When he heard a knock on the front door he looked up in surprise. It was seldom that he had visitors: his only callers were the tradesmen selling bread or milk. After a few moments, the maid showed Seth Cullen into the room and he stood there, his hat in his hand, looking anxiously at Bull.

  ‘Good to see you, Seth, sit down.’ Bull could hardly fail to see how Seth had changed over the years. He was no longer the wild-drinking, fast-living navvy he’d once been: now he was smartly dressed, his hair neatly combed and his one boot polished so that you could see your face in it.

  ‘I have to talk to you, Bull.’ Seth rubbed his hands together. ‘It’s about Rhiannon.’

  Bull felt a dart of anxiety. ‘She isn’t sick again, is she?’

  Seth shook his head. ‘No, nothing like that. She’s upset, though. Did you hear that old Mrs Paisley died yesterday?’

  ‘I didn’t know, and I’m very sorry. She was a grand old lady and very fond of Rhiannon. Is that why you’re here? Does Rhiannon want me to see to the burial arrangements for her?’

  ‘No, Rhiannon will do all that herself. No, I’m worried about the hotel’s Grand Opening tonight. That’s wh
at I’ve come about.’

  Bull was finding it hard to follow Seth’s line of conversation. ‘Want a drink, Seth?’

  ‘Aye, a drop of whisky would go down well.’

  Bull poured the drinks and handed a glass to Seth. ‘Now, what’s this all about? Tell me slowly and clearly.’

  ‘Well, when the old lady was taken sick, Dr Frost wouldn’t come and see to her, right nasty he was to one of the maids. I’m afraid he might cause trouble tonight just to shame Rhiannon.’

  Bull was more confused than ever. ‘Why on earth would he do that? The man admires Rhiannon.’

  ‘Aye, well, that’s just the trouble.’ Seth looked uneasily into his glass. ‘I think I let the cat out of the bag – you know, about Rhiannon’s past.’

  Bull was beginning to see what Seth was getting at. ‘You told him Rhiannon was once a shanty-town woman?’

  ‘Aye, I did. Didn’t mean no harm, mind, I thought everybody knew. I don’t care about such things but the doctor is cut of a different cloth from you and me. He went as purple as a ripe plum when I told him and I thought he was going to burst.’

  ‘Well, that was silly of you, Seth, you should have kept your mouth shut – but perhaps it’s just as well the truth came out sooner rather than later.’

  ‘It won’t end there, though, Bull. I think the doctor is going to make a nuisance of himself. I heard him going on about it to some old geezer in the Beaufort Inn. He’s a bitter man and he didn’t like being made a fool of. Right peeved, he was, I can tell you.’

  ‘All right, Seth, leave it with me.’ Bull got up from his chair. ‘You did the right thing coming to me, but keep quiet about it.’

  ‘Oh, don’t you worry, I’ve learned my lesson and I won’t say nothing to no one else.’

  Bull followed him to the front door. ‘How are you and Sal getting on? I gather you’re sweet on her.’

  ‘Aye, I mean to marry her one day. I don’t care nothing about her past, that’s dead and gone. I love the Sal she is now.’ He looked up at Bull. ‘I’m not like that Dr Frost, no, sir.’