by Iris Gower
Catherine shook her head. ‘No, I haven’t seen him, not for a few weeks.’
So that was the real reason for her distress: she was hungry, she was afraid, but most of all Catherine was longing to be with Boyo Hopkins.
‘I’m sorry, Liam,’ she said after a moment. ‘I’m sure you haven’t trudged all this way just to listen to my problems. Is everything all right back home?’
Liam forced a smile. ‘Aye, your mammy is fine, sends her love,’ he said. He looked down at his hands.
‘Liam, what is it?’ Catherine asked. ‘There’s something wrong back in Ireland and I’ve been prattling away about my problems.’
‘It’s Patricia,’ Liam said. ‘The baby is fine but …’ He paused.
‘Your sister, is she sick?’
‘Patricia began to bleed … we … no-one could do anything.’ He swallowed hard. ‘She’s gone, God rest her.’
‘Liam, I’m so sorry.’ Catherine touched his hand and he curled his fingers around hers.
‘I want you to come back with me, Cath, to look after the child just for the time being.’
He saw Catherine’s eyes grow large, her face was drained of colour. He could see the thread of a blue vein beneath her eye and he knew he was asking too much of her.
He thought Catherine would protest that she could not leave Swansea but she just sat there, cold and pale, her hands listless in her lap.
‘Catherine, Maeve is managing the baby fine, I can’t expect you to live in Ireland, not when I said I’d stay here with you.’
She rose and stood near the table as though uncertain what she should do next. ‘I can’t think.’ She rubbed her eyes. ‘I can’t offer you anything to eat, Liam, I’m sorry but there is nothing in the house.’
He could see that, the fire was dead in the grate, no water could be boiled, even if there had been food in the pantry to cook.
‘Will you put me up for the night, Catherine? I can’t stay more than a day or two, I’m needed back home. Maeve is too old to chase round after a young baby and I’m not needed here, am I?’ He looked at her questioningly, ‘Am I?’
‘You can stay,’ she said quickly, ‘of course you can, if you can manage on the old sofa in the parlour.’
‘That will be fine.’ He rose to his feet and moved closer, though he did not touch her. ‘I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you.’
Catherine did not look at him. ‘I know, Liam, I know.’ She lifted her hands as if to ward him off and he took a pace back.
‘I have some errands to do,’ he said briskly, ‘some business in town. I’ll be back later.’
Catherine did not look up as he left the room, it was as though he had ceased to exist for her. Had he really held her in his arms? Made love to her? It was like a lost dream now. He felt, with a heaviness in his heart, that she would not come with him to Ireland, not even now when he needed her so badly.
Still, he must put his own feelings aside, there were things he could and must do for her, practical things like stocking the larder and getting in coal. He must insist that she took some money from him, otherwise she would not live to see another summer.
As he left the house, Liam saw Danby coining towards him, a bag in his hand. There was something furtive about the way he looked over his shoulder as though he was afraid he was being followed.
‘Jerry, how are you?’
The policeman’s eyes flickered away. ‘I’m fine, aye, fine. I’ve plucked up courage to come and see Doreen. Been too scared of losing my job to come here before.’
‘It looks as if Meadows got what was coming to him from what I’ve just heard.’ Liam’s voice was hard.
‘That’s as maybe, I could have killed him myself for what he did to Doreen but he was a copper after all and coppers stick together.’
‘The man was corrupt, you know it and I know it.’
Jerry nodded. ‘Most of my colleagues thought Peter Meadows was a bastard when he was alive but you’d think he was their bosom pal now that he’s dead.’
‘From what I heard, Doreen had no choice but to shoot the man,’ Liam said. ‘Surely even his fellow coppers could see that?’
‘I expect they can but speaking for myself, I’m keeping my mouth shut. It’s no good me being all heated about it and getting the sack. The way things are, at least I can bring a bit of bread and cheese to the girls when I get the chance.’
‘Well, you haven’t had much chance so far because, from what I can see, they are near starving to death.’
‘Look, it’s not my fault, man, I can’t be responsible for all the bad things that happen, at least I was here in Swansea.’
‘I know.’ Liam was suddenly ashamed of his anger, Jerry Danby was right, Liam had no room to criticize when he had been far away in Ireland.
‘Anyway, what my mam always says is that if you see your best friend falling in a pond, you don’t jump in after him unless you got a stout rope around your waist.’
‘I get the point.’ Liam smiled for the first time. ‘What have you got there?’
‘I got some bread and a bit of beef and some veggies, it’ll help a bit anyway.’
‘It certainly will, especially when I get them some coal to light the fire.’ Liam smiled at the chagrin on Jerry’s face. ‘Duw, I never thought of that and me a bobbie, not very bright, am I?’
‘Don’t worry, you go on in, I’m sure seeing you will cheer Doreen up a bit.’
‘How is she?’ Jerry was already moving towards the door.
‘Don’t know, didn’t see her but I bet she’ll see you all right.’
As he walked away towards the town, Liam felt pain and disappointment rise like a lump in his throat. What he had hoped for was that Catherine would fall into his arms, agree at once to go with him back to Ireland. But Catherine was still besotted with Hopkins, probably always would be. As the breeze blew into his face it was salt from the sea, salt that tasted like tears.
To Bethan’s bitter disappointment, Boyo was still distant from her. Not even the knowledge that she was pregnant again with his child seemed to matter to him. Indeed, he felt she had tricked him into her bed. Well, so she had in a way, a small potion in his milk had made him so easy to manipulate.
Lately, though, she was not herself, she stayed in bed, eating little, feeling aggrieved at what she felt was Boyo’s failure to keep his side of the bargain.
She recognized all too easily that Boyo was happy about her indisposition, it put off the day when he would have to come to her bed and prove himself.
Today, she had ventured downstairs, tired of being alone. She looked at him now, sitting a short distance away from her, his feet stretched towards the fire, a book in his hand. To an outsider, they would appear as any normal married couple, used to each other, slightly bored from familiarity, but no-one could see the storm that was building within her.
She was bitter about the way she had needed to bargain with him in order to bring him back to her. Boyo could be bought, oh, not with money, but with promises that involved that bitch of a girl.
There was some comfort in the fact that the girl was half starved and beaten down by poverty. There was no way out for Catherine O’Conner, Bethan had seen to that. Now that Hari Grenfell had been brought to her knees, there was no work and no money.
Following the scandal involving the shooting of Sergeant Meadows, no other inducement was needed to keep the affluent folk of the town clear of Hari Grenfell and her so-called emporium. Well, the woman knew her place now, knew that it did not pay to cross Bethan Hopkins.
As for the lawyer, she had paid him off and sent him back to London with a heavy pocket. He had assured her of his best services any time she should need them.
Now, looking at her husband, she was not so sure that she had done the right thing in acting so precipitously. Since Boyo had been back with her, he had been moody, morose even. He was acting like a sulky schoolboy and she was fast losing patience with him.
Apart from any
thing else, he was driving Elizabeth away from her. She did not come so often now and when she did, it was but for a brief visit. No, things were not working out as Bethan had planned, not at all.
She studied Boyo; his hair was crisp and curling, his frame lean and spare, there was a frown between his brows and suddenly her heart ached for the man he had once been, the affectionate husband, the friend she could laugh with. It had all been spoiled by Catherine O’Conner, how Bethan hated her.
Still, Bethan would only have to bide her time, she and Boyo would become lovers again, one day. She would be patient now until her child was safely born then she would win Boyo back, she was sure. He would come to see that his wife was worth ten of that stupid, insignificant girl.
He looked up, sensing her scrutiny, and when she smiled at him, he responded but his eyes did not warm. He rose to his feet. ‘I think I will take a ride into town, have a drink in one of the hotels. I feel the lack of male company, Bethan, you know how it is?’
‘I do not know how it is, at all, Boyo, you were never one for male company. Are you sure you are not seeing that bitch?’
‘I am sure.’ He emphasized the words. ‘I have not seen her since … since we made our agreement.’
Jealousy swamped her, he had lied to her and cheated her once, how could she ever trust him again? ‘I don’t want you to go out.’ She failed to realize how petulant she sounded until Boyo shook his head.
‘You are acting like a child. I never agreed to be a prisoner in this house.’ He sounded cold. Bethan saw now that she was pushing him too hard, she must tread more softly.
‘You are right, of course.’ She knew with a sense of triumph that she had said exactly the right thing.
‘That’s my girl, you sound more like my old Bethan now.’
She rose and hugged him, as though on an impulse. She looked up into his face. ‘We were good friends once, we can mend fences, we can be friends again, can’t we? Am I unreasonable in wanting you back?’
‘You are unreasonable in the way you go about it, hurting people, destroying lives, it’s so unlike the woman I married.’
‘I know,’ she said in a self-deprecating tone. ‘I honestly think that, for a time, I was quite out of my mind. First, losing the baby, then you leaving me, it was too much to bear. But we can be happy again, we will have a fine daughter this time and I shall call her Elizabeth.’
As she knew she would, she touched a soft spot in him. He held her in his arms, not like a lover but at least it was a start. She smiled into his shoulder, she knew how to play it, knew that she must appear to be repentant, to be the same gullible fool she had been before he had abused her trust.
‘You are a kind man, Boyo.’ She moved from his arms. ‘I know I’ve been all sorts of a bitch but with your help, I can be better, I know I can.’
He sighed. ‘I’ll stay in, if that’s what you really want.’ He looked down at her, a worried frown on his face and she felt it was the moment to be magnanimous.
‘No, you go out, it is only reasonable for a man to want to share a drink and a laugh with his own kind.’
He smiled then, really smiled for the first time since they had been back together. He moved to the door, his step lighter and Bethan knew with a sinking of her heart that he could not wait to be away from her.
‘I won’t be late,’ he said and she lifted her hand to him, a smile fixed on her face.
‘Be as late as you like, I must trust you, I do trust you. Go on, my love, enjoy yourself, I won’t wait up for you.’
She heard the outer door slam and then the sound of hoof-beats fading into the distance. She felt empty and relieved at the same time, now she could talk, really talk, to Elizabeth, tell her the triumphant news that she was winning back the husband she loved.
Hari stood in the window looking out at the boiling seas far below. ‘It was a good move to join the Union of Boot and Shoemakers.’ A huge wave crashed against the rocks sending up a shower of foam. The weather was stormy, in keeping with her mood. ‘They will help me get back on my feet again, give the firm respectability, substance. I’ve always wanted to be free of any unions, to be independent but now the time has come when I need the strength of others behind me. Whatever happens, there is no way I am going to allow that woman to ruin us.’
‘My love,’ Craig came and stood behind her, ‘be sensible, let’s cut our losses, give up the business. We will have enough to live on for years if we sell Summer Lodge.’
‘We won’t, you know,’ Hari said shaking her head. ‘The house is mortgaged to the hilt. Even if we could sell it there would be little in it for us.’ Hari turned into his arms, ‘If I let the business go, we shall have nothing.’
‘We will manage.’ He kissed her mouth tenderly. ‘Look, I’ve got something to tell you.’ He paused and took a deep breath. ‘I’ve managed to find myself a position in the accounting offices of The Swansea Times.’
‘Arian Smale gave you a job?’
‘Well, don’t sound so surprised, I am used to accounts, I am sound in mind and limb and what’s more, I won’t be the oldest employee working there; there’s Mac, he’s a fine reporter and he’s actually longer in the tooth than I am.’
‘Oh?’ Hari was at a loss, she did not know if she should congratulate Craig on his enterprise or be angry with him for making such a move without consulting her.
He hugged Hari to him. ‘Don’t worry, we will survive this as we’ve survived so many things – together.’
‘I don’t want to lose Summer Lodge,’ Hari said, moving away from Craig and sitting in a chair. ‘I suggest we let it out for a time, perhaps a year or two just until we get on our feet again.’
‘Who around here will want to rent this barn of a place?’ Craig said reasonably.
‘Think, Craig, think,’ Hari said, tapping her forehead. ‘You are right, no-one around here will want to rent the house but if we put a notice in the London Times, advertise the place as an ideal summer retreat near the sea, it might possibly attract some interest. At least it’s worth a try.’
‘It costs a great deal more money than we have to advertise properly in a London newspaper.’
‘Well then, we’ll sell something, one of the paintings perhaps. Better to lose some of the possessions we’ve accumulated over the good years than to lose everything.’
‘You might be right. I suppose it’s worth a try,’ Craig said kissing her, his hand straying to her breast.
‘You are incorrigible, and you an old man.’ She laughed up at him, not believing her words. He would never be old, not to her. Craig was her love, her life and as long as she had him, she had all that she could ever want in life – almost.
Suddenly, Hari felt close to tears. Because of Bethan Hopkins, because of one woman’s wicked obsession, she had been brought to near bankruptcy.
Later, in bed, Hari lay wide-eyed, her mind racing over and over the problems of finance. After a while she rose, careful not to wake her husband and by the time she had bathed and dressed and made her way downstairs, she knew what she was going to do.
A few copies of the London Times needed to be bought, that was the first part of her plan. She would do work on some figures, try to assess how much a year could be earned by letting out Summer Lodge. Then she would follow Craig’s lead, she would find a job. She would work as a cobbler as she’d done when she was young.
Ruefully she looked down at her hands, softened now by easy living. Surely she could resurrect skills they had once had? She would cut and stitch and tap working-men’s boots as she used to, it was a beginning, a way back to solvency.
She had not wanted to join the Union of Boot and Shoemakers, not at first, but now she would need the might of the union behind her. There was strength in the unity of fellow tradesmen and women. She would attend meetings, fight for the rights of the working people. She had been complacent too long, rich too long, she had forgotten her roots. But now she would just have to get used to them again.
She would rent a place, a small, cheap house somewhere in the poorer quarter of the town. She had been born in the slums of World’s End, she would easily adapt to the life again. For a moment her resolve weakened. Could Craig cope with it? Working in a stuffy office all day, adding figures instead of organizing the shifting of skins, would need a great deal of will power.
That he had the necessary ability for the job she had no doubt, Craig had been the one to buy in stocks, see that the goods were always available to put on the shelves. He had a good head for figures, he had learnt a great deal about trade over the years. He would be fine.
Hari made her way to the workroom and sat at the bench. Few repairs had been done here of late, very little shoemaking of any kind, come to that. Folk preferred to keep away from a woman involved in murder. Even the more tolerant of citizens preferred to buy stout, ready-made shoes at the respectable establishments in town. Why walk all the way to Summer Lodge when there were cobblers in every other street?
She picked up a dog, the implement used for holding the upper to the sole, and wondered if she had the energy for her new enterprise. Years ago, it had all seemed so easy, she had the optimism of youth then, the certainty that what she did would succeed. Well, she must find that optimism once again, for the alternative might just be the workhouse.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Catherine stared at Doreen in astonishment. ‘Won’t people talk if you marry Jerry so soon after … after?’
‘After I shot that bastard of a husband you mean? What the hell do you think they’re doing now, girl? My name is mud round here. Half the town believe I killed Meadows out of revenge and the other half think poor Mrs Grenfell pulled the trigger. No, love, no future in Swansea for me, not any more, who would employ a murderess?’
She shook her head and there was a glint of tears in her eyes. ‘There’s nothing for me here, not now. Anyway, Jerry’s got promotion, they want him in Cardiff. It couldn’t have worked out better really, could it, love?’ She smiled wanly at Catherine. ‘Sorry, love, I’m going to leave you in the lurch, so to speak, but it’s better you know now when Liam is here to stand by you.’
