Arian

by Iris Gower

  Arian moved towards Fon and embraced her. ‘I’m so happy for you, Fon, I know you’ve had your troubles but you have such a lot to be thankful for. Sorry for the sermon. I’m going now,’ she said. ‘Wish me luck on my adventure on the high seas, won’t you?’

  ‘Are you sure you know what you’re doing?’ Fon asked, hands on hips like a mother. ‘Because if you ask me, you’re having your doubts about all this.’

  ‘Sure enough that I want to get away from Swansea, for a while at least. Perhaps when I come back I’ll have sorted myself out. Perhaps then I might even know exactly what I want to do with my life.’

  Fon shook her head. ‘I don’t understand you, Arian. You’re like a wild spirit, as changeable as the breezes that blow in from the sea.’

  ‘I agree with you. It’s doing me the world of good too, better than being stuck in a rut, vegetating as the wife of a man I could never love.’

  ‘But there are other ways out of all this. You could still settle down, live here on the farm or go back to shoe-making.’

  Arian shook her head. ‘No, I’m a failure at that sort of business and I might as well accept it. I must shake the dust of Swansea from my feet for a little while at least.’ She kissed Fon’s cheek warmly. ‘See you when I get back, it’s a promise. And Fon, thanks for everything.’

  ‘There’s daft you talk!’ Fon said pushing her away in mock anger. ‘I haven’t done anything at all. Now take care of yourself, right?’

  ‘You take care, too, old mother hen.’

  She left Honey’s Farm without looking back and moved quickly over the familiar, beloved hills to where the farmlands sloped downwards to meet the outskirts of the town. The streets were quiet now, the traffic a mere trickle of vans homeward bound, horses eager now for food and rest and one or two cabs touting for late business.

  Arian looked around her at the shop fronts and the doorways, innocent now of the merchandise that usually adorned them and for a moment she wondered if she was indeed being foolhardy and impetuous, throwing aside all she knew for a life of uncertainty.

  But then life was full of risks, and anything was better than a life filled with Gerald Simples’s shadow. She had been grateful to Jono and, in a way, to Bridie for their kindness, but she had begun to feel stultified in the small village of Clydach, smothered by Jono’s obvious adoration and tired of Bridie’s insistence that she find an occupation worthy of her talents.

  When Bridie had learned of Arian’s plans, she had turned a little pale, her blue eyes had been full of hostility. Arian tried to tell her that the trip was nothing but business but Bridie’s mouth had pursed into a sulk. Arian knew that Bridie was piqued but she couldn’t help that, she had her own life to live.

  She made her way now through the darkening streets towards the docks and the smell of tar and salt and ships hung heavy in the air bringing Arian a sudden sense of adventure.

  The ship was a huge shadow in the harbour, the lights already swinging on the port and starboard as the crew made ready to sail.

  She saw Paul Marchant waiting for her at the rail and raised her hand in greeting. He didn’t move but she heard him issuing orders to his men.

  As she boarded the ship, he took her hand and led her towards the cabin. ‘I have work to do,’ he said. ‘So have you. I want you to go over my books with a fine toothcomb; I am losing money somewhere but I’m damned if I can find out why.’ He smiled. ‘It won’t all be work. Once we are well out at sea, I’ll be back. Have a bottle of wine ready.’

  ‘I thought sailors only drank rum.’

  ‘I can see I’m going to have to change many of the misconceptions you have about sailors,’ he said. ‘Remember one thing, Arian. At sea, my word is law.’ He laughed lightly and touched her cheek. ‘But I think you’ll find me a good master.’

  ‘Don’t delude yourself,’ Arian said quickly. ‘It’s not you who will be boss, but me.’

  When she was alone, she stared around her, listening to the crack of the wind in the unfurling sails and feeling the swaying of the boards beneath her. She was a good sailor and that was just as well because she had committed herself to sharing a trip with Paul Marchant that would take her away from the shores of Wales for a very long time.

  His excuse had been that he had no office on shore, couldn’t afford such a luxury. Until now he’d worked on his own books, not with much success. Because she had wanted to get away from Swansea, Arian had accepted his offer without really thinking it through. Had she been foolish? Paul had been very convincing in his arguments and yet for the first time, Arian wondered if his intentions might not be strictly honourable.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  ‘Where is she?’ Gerald Simples spoke in a low voice but he was feeling angry and apprehensive, all at the same time. ‘Where is my wife?’

  Bridie James looked at him with a level gaze, her blue eyes appeared slate grey in the early morning sunlight. She beckoned to him to come inside the whitewashed cottage and, reluctantly, Gerald followed her through the long passage and into a quiet, restful sitting room.

  ‘I’ve been hearing rumours,’ Gerald began, ‘rumours that Arian is behaving no better than a common slut.’

  Bridie indicated a chair and seated herself firmly, her back against the straight wood of the old armchair. She was not a woman to be flustered, that much was obvious to him even though Gerald was finding it difficult to control his temper.

  ‘I can’t answer for rumours.’ Bridie James was composed, her hands folded together in her lap over the neat cloth of her skirt. She was a plain woman but there was a dignity about her, even though she was young, which Gerald recognized with a reluctant feeling of respect.

  ‘I realize you can’t answer for rumours,’ he said more calmly. ‘But I know she was living here and I was satisfied that she was safe with you and your brother.’

  ‘My cousin, Jono is my cousin. Arian was going to work for Will Davies but she changed her mind.’

  He could have struck her for her pedantry. She was determined to be of as little help as possible.

  ‘I don’t know what my wife has told you about me,’ he said, ‘but I am not an ogre. I didn’t beat her or ill use her in any way and it wasn’t my choice that we separated. I’m simply concerned about her, about the talk I’ve heard. I want to know where she is.’

  He saw that Bridie was considering his words and after what seemed an eternity, she replied.

  ‘I don’t know where she is, not exactly. She’s at sea, that I do know, somewhere between here and the West Indies.’

  Gerald was silenced. He stared at Bridie in amazement. He’d been expecting to be balked, he’d expected aggression even, but this blunt stating of the facts completely threw him off balance.

  ‘She’s with a man.’

  It was a statement and Bridie squared her shoulders and stared straight at him.

  ‘I expect she is with a number of men. There usually are many sailors aboard ship.’

  ‘That is insulting my intelligence, Miss James.’ Gerald felt anger grow again in the pit of his stomach. Bridie James was not the meek and mild woman he’d first thought her to be, plain she might be but she had character. He tried again.

  ‘She has taken a lover from among the crew of this ship, is that it?’

  ‘How should I know the details of Arian’s private life?’ Bridie lifted her chin defiantly. ‘What Arian does is no business of mine. I’m not her keeper. We were strangers until a few months ago.’ She rose to her feet, effectively dismissing him. ‘I don’t think I can be of any more assistance to you, Mr Simples,’ she said. ‘If you’ll forgive me, I’m busy.’

  Gerald fought to control his temper. He had never struck a woman but right now he felt like doing just that. He even made a move forward but Bridie stood her ground.

  ‘At least you could tell me the name of the ship and who is the owner.’ He felt he was grinding the words through his teeth.

  ‘I have nothing more to add to what I’v
e already told you,’ Bridie said, and he could see he’d rubbed her up the wrong way with his hostile attitude. He might have done better to employ a little charm.

  ‘Bitch!’ he said, and just then the large figure of Jono Morgan moved into the room. He calmly caught Gerald by his collar and shook him as though he was a dog with a bone.

  ‘Apologize to the lady,’ Jono said roughly, ‘or I’ll break your bluddy neck.’

  ‘I do apologize,’ Gerald said quickly. He was no coward. Under other circumstances he would have tackled this man, big as he was, but it was clear Gerald would learn nothing by abuse and aggression. ‘It’s not usual for me to lose my temper this way and I apologize most humbly, Miss James.’

  Jono released him and Gerald straightened his tie.

  ‘It’s just that I’m very worried about my wife. She’s behaving most strangely and I’ve been going out of my mind thinking about her.’

  That was true. Gerald wanted Arian back, much as he’d tried he couldn’t put her out of his mind. She was an itch in his blood, an itch that Sarah Frogmore, for all her trying, had failed to dispel.

  ‘Why now?’ Jono’s harsh voice penetrated into Gerald’s thoughts. ‘Why should you be worried about her now, when you haven’t cared a toss about her for months.’

  It was a question Gerald found difficult to answer. He decided to be honest. ‘I tried to put her out of my mind. I felt she wanted to be free, but I can’t forget her. I gave her every chance to straighten herself out but she’s my wife, for God’s sake, and I don’t want her running round the world with some sailor!’

  ‘She’s your wife all right,’ Jono said heavily. ‘We went to France with her to find out the truth. Didn’t like it, mind. She wanted rid of you.’

  This was news to Gerald. ‘I could have saved her the trip – I knew the marriage was legal. I’m her husband and as such I have rights.’ Gerald changed tack. ‘I love her, I’ve given her every chance. Come on, man, be reasonable. You know I speak the truth.’

  ‘Aye,’ Jono agreed, ‘you have rights but if you try any force I’ll bluddy kill you, understand?’

  ‘I’m wasting my time here,’ Gerald said, ‘I might just as well give up and go home.’ He heard the sadness in his own voice and then Bridie peered round her cousin’s big shoulder.

  ‘Arian’s fit and well, I do know that,’ she said, ‘so you needn’t worry about her. She’s working, employed to sort out the master of the shipping fleet’s finances. I understand she’s very clever at that sort of thing.’

  Gerald turned away. ‘If you believe that load of rubbish, you’ll believe anything!’ He saw the look of doubt on Bridie James’s face and savoured the moment, it seemed she had a personal interest in this man whoever he was and Gerald’s barb had struck home.

  He stored the information away. It was clear he would learn nothing more from Bridie or her cousin.

  He strode from the house without a backward look and made towards Swansea and the docklands. There perhaps he would learn what ships had headed for the West Indies in the last week or two. What he would do once he knew, he wasn’t sure, but one thing he was certain of, was that when she returned home to Swansea, Arian would find him waiting.

  ‘Duw, there’s a bully boy for you.’ Jono shut the door of the cottage and made his way into the kitchen. ‘No wonder she ran away from him, mind.’

  ‘He’s a strange man, true enough,’ Bridie agreed, staring at her cousin thoughtfully, ‘but he does have rights.’

  ‘Well, she don’t want nothing to do with the man so there must be something wrong with him.’

  ‘Not necessarily.’ Bridie knew she was being argumentative but something in Gerald’s appearance had made her wonder why Arian didn’t want to stay with him. He seemed quite personable, indeed, he was very good looking. True, he’d been aggressive but she’d seen very real anxiety in his eyes.

  ‘He loves Arian. Whatever else he’s done wrong,’ Bridie said, ‘at least he loves her.’

  ‘Humph.’ Jono pushed the kettle on to the fire. ‘Well, I don’t blame the girl. If she don’t want him, there must be some reason for it that we don’t know about.’

  Bridie sighed. Jono was biased in Arian’s favour, of course. What was it about the girl that inspired men to fall at her feet? Bridie smiled, she was suffering from the green eyed monster, she might as well admit it. She would have liked to be sailing the high seas with Paul herself. She wondered uneasily if there was something between him and Arian, but no, Paul had said he loved Bridie, that she was the only woman in the world for him. He wanted to marry her when he returned from his voyage, that was the only reason he was getting his accounts in order, wasn’t it?

  ‘Well there’s no chance of him finding her for some time.’ She looked up at Jono. ‘Perhaps by the time she returns to Swansea her husband will have forgotten all about her.’

  ‘I doubt that,’ Jono said in a low voice and on an impulse, Bridie kissed his cheek. ‘You are a darling man,’ she said softly. ‘Why don’t you come into the shipping business with me? It’s about time I picked up the reins I suppose.’ About time she consulted her father’s lawyers, found out just where she stood. She didn’t want to come to Paul empty handed.

  ‘No bluddy fear!’ Jono said. ‘’Scuse my language, Bridie, but you won’t get me to sea again. That trip to France was enough to put me off boats for good and all.’

  Bridie laughed. ‘But I need a man to be in it with me,’ she said. ‘No-one takes any notice of what a woman says or does.’

  ‘Why don’t you get that Paul Marchant to go into business with you then?’ Jono said dryly. ‘I’m sure you’d be good partners, even if he is smitten with Arian.’

  Bridie bit her lip. Jono was wrong, of course he was. Damn Arian, Paul was hers. Still, she’d been a fool not to protest at the suggestion of Arian sailing with the Marie Clare. There were plenty of men around who could have worked on the accounts much more efficiently.

  But Jono’s words had struck home, Paul was a man after all, an easy target for a pretty woman. She’d seen enough with her father, whom she had adored, to know that men were led by their needs not by common sense. She’d been indulgent where Daddy was concerned. She wouldn’t be so easygoing with Paul, not when they were married.

  Perhaps it would be more provident to go into partnership with Jono rather than handing Paul her father’s fleet as a gift. She smiled wryly. There was an element of insuring against his ever wanting to stray in her reasoning, but a bit of cold common sense never came amiss, especially when applied to affairs of the heart. She well remembered how generous her father had been with his money, handing out expensive gifts to his women if they pleased him enough. It was only her own steadying influence that kept him from being downright foolish.

  She had inherited a large fleet, a much bigger fleet than Paul owned, but if they were to be partners, the margin of profits could be adjusted accordingly, and would be, she would see to it. In that way she would have some power, just in case she ever needed to wield it.

  ‘You know, Cousin,’ she said, smiling, ‘you have straightened out my thinking. I was in danger there of being improvident but I do believe you’ve cured me of that.’

  She smiled at the bewildered look on Jono’s face. ‘Pour me a nice cup of tea, Cousin. I think I’m going to need it.’

  Sarah was not happy. Gerald had been moody of late, snapping at her with uncalled-for irritation in his voice. She was forbearing, loving him as she did, but now, her patience was wearing thin. She glanced in irritation at the old woman sitting in the fireside chair, eyeing her with a knowing look. ‘Watch your manners, you’re dispensable and don’t forget it.’ The old lady lowered her eyes without replying.

  Gerald came into the sitting room and, ignoring the old ‘aunt’, slumped into the chair opposite her. Sarah rose and lit the lamps. The shadows were lengthening, the sky outside the windows growing dark. Without a word, she poured him a glass of porter and without a word, he took it f
rom her.

  ‘Gerry, darling,’ she began and he frowned, his dark eyes not really seeing her.

  ‘You know I hate the diminutive of my name. For God’s sake call me Gerald if you must use my Christian name at all.’

  She sighed, toying with the idea of telling him to get out of her life for good, to end this charade and yet she knew she couldn’t do without him.

  ‘Try to relax, my love. Here, let me refill your glass.’ She looked at him, loving him so much, wanting his arms around her, his mouth to touch hers. She tried, with her eyes, to tell the old woman to leave them alone but her look was ignored.

  They sat in silence for a time and then Gerald rose. ‘I’m going to my room,’ he said. ‘Good night, Sarah.’

  She watched him go with a feeling of relief. At least he was staying with her tonight. Sometimes he went out, quite where, she was not told. Perhaps he stayed in the house he’d shared with Arian but it was full of bad memories and Sarah thought it unlikely. The more feasible answer was that he had found another woman but she didn’t want to believe that.

  Had she known the truth she would have been surprised and relieved because the nights Gerald was away, he was waiting on the dockside for the night tide to bring in the ships from the bay, hoping that this was the night the Marie Clare would dock and with his wife on board. The sailors in the harbour were most co-operative once he’d bought them a drink of ale. He felt he knew a great deal about Paul Marchant and his small fleet. He was the self-same man who had sailed with them to France, the time he’d married Arian. The swine must have had his eye on her even then. Well he would find that it didn’t pay to cross Gerald Simples.

  But Sarah was kept in the dark about his nightly excursions and she was distressed by Gerald’s strange behaviour. She loved him more now than when she’d first slept with him. She knew he didn’t love her but then he only loved himself; other people, he used.

  In her bedroom she studied herself in the long elegant mirror. She was dressed in her finest satin nightwear and her hair hung loose to her waist. Were her breasts a little too full? Was her waist broadening? Oh, God, was she losing her charms? But no, the lamplight was kind. She looked as young and beautiful as ever, the fault was not in her but in Gerald.