by Iris Gower
Arian knew Paul’s love of the sea, of ships, and she had seen the blaze of interest in his eyes. If Bridie had set out to bribe him into marriage, she couldn’t have chosen a better inducement.
Marriage and a partnership with Bridie would be a step up for him; Paul would be extending his enterprises and the merger would be more to his advantage than Bridie’s. And yet, what could be more sensible? It was what Bridie really wanted. Arian secretly revised her impressions of Bridie. She was growing up, losing her petulant, almost childish behaviour. She intended to keep a reign on her business and by doing so, keep Paul in check.
Arian genuinely liked Paul. The voyage and his company had helped her find her sense of adventure that she thought had died. Somehow she had been cleansed of her past mistakes and failures by her absence from Swansea. She supposed that going away to other lands had given her a sense of perspective.
‘Glad to be home, cariad?’ Jono’s voice was gentle, and Arian felt a momentary pang of guilt. Jono was a kindly man who thought the best of everyone. It was Jono who’d blocked Gerald’s path when he’d threatened to take her to his home by force, Jono who’d warned Gerald that if he ever saw him near Arian again he’d give him such a thrashing that he’d never bother anyone again.
Arian had expected Gerald to put up a fight – he was a powerful man and no coward – but he’d stepped aside and allowed them to pass, more for appearances’ sake than anything else; he was a man who liked to be respected, it wouldn’t become him to be seen brawling on the docks like a common drunk.
‘I am glad to be back,’ she smiled. ‘I’ve got plans now, Jono. I’m going back to Swansea to set myself up in the newspaper business. I’m going to stop wasting my life.’
The look of dismay on Jono’s open face would have been comical had it not been so sad. ‘Oh, no, girl, not going to leave us, are you?’
She smiled and put her hand on his arm. ‘I can hardly stay with you now, can I? Not with Bridie set up in her own home?’
‘I wouldn’t care what folks thought,’ Jono protested. ‘Let ‘em gossip. Sticks and stones won’t hurt me and I won’t let anything hurt you.’
Arian shook her head. ‘We needn’t lose touch altogether, Jono. Perhaps you can help me, when you’re not working on the Mond building, that is.’
She smiled, touched by the relief in his eyes. ‘My father’s presses will have gone rusty, they will all need maintenance. The typeface should still be all right; it was always kept well greased to prevent rusting.’
‘You’ll need money,’ Jono said slowly. ‘I have some. I can give it to you, if you like. I have no use for it.’
Arian was silent for a moment. ‘I wasn’t thinking of money but practical help. I don’t want to take anything from you, you’ve been kind enough already.’
‘You’ll need backers.’ It was Bridie who spoke, her voice firm. ‘Let Jono and me put some money into the enterprise – it sounds like a good one from what you’ve told me.’
‘I am going to need backers,’ Arian agreed. ‘If you really want to risk some of your money then I’m only too glad of the help, from you too Jono, if you really meant it.’
‘I meant it all right.’ He was eager to keep a foothold in her life. ‘I don’t want much to live on, you know that, and Bridie insists on giving me a share of the profits from the ships.’ He smiled. ‘So that’s fixed then.’
‘Aye, that’s fixed.’ On an impulse, Arian kissed Jono’s cheek. He flushed scarlet with happiness.
‘Perhaps I may be permitted to get in on this new business, too?’ Paul was leaning back in his chair. ‘Like Jono here, my input will not be very large but it all helps when you’re starting out.’
‘Thank you, all of you.’ Arian felt overwhelmed. ‘You’ve given me more than just the promise of money, you’ve given me a chance to start up my newspaper business sooner than I’d thought possible.’
Jono beamed. ‘I always knew you and me was meant to be together.’
Arian bit her lip. ‘Don’t read too much into all this, mind,’ she said. ‘I need backing. You’ll be a wonderful asset to me in many ways but, Jono, don’t forget that I’m married, will you?’
‘I won’t forget, girl.’ His voice was heavy. ‘But if that man tries to interfere in your life again, I’ll send him packing, don’t you worry.’
Bridie and Paul had moved away from the table and were seated close together, heads bent, engrossed in conversation. She half smiled. Paul was nothing if not an opportunist and could she blame him? Bridie was alive and glowing, her very skin seemed to radiate happiness and suddenly Arian felt lonely. Was she forever to be locked in a loveless marriage?
Stop feeling sorry for yourself. She almost spoke the thought out loud and glanced quickly at Jono. He was staring at her with a love-sick expression in his eyes. The sooner she was away from Clydach the better, she thought ruefully.
* * *
Arian, Jono and the small army of people he’d somehow roped in to help, took little over two weeks to renovate the top rooms of the old Cambridge offices. The building was very run down but the rent was cheap. Fresh curtains provided by Bridie hung at the windows and an old desk, covered by a cloth, served as a table. The kitchen had always been there. The sink, old and cracked, needed to be replaced but the stove on which the workers at the newspaper used to boil water was, after a thorough cleaning, still functional.
The privy was the main problem. It was all the way down three flights of stairs and out at the back of the building. Not something to look forward to on a cold winter’s morning, Arian thought sombrely. Still, she would live quite comfortably and, at last, she would be independent.
While she worked scrubbing the floors of the offices free of years of dust, Jono was downstairs in the bowels of the building attending the old presses. His presence during the day was something of a comfort but Arian worried that he was neglecting his own work and that he might be dismissed from the newly opened nickel works if he took too much time off.
‘Don’t you worry about that, girl,’ Jono reassured her, while they stopped for a brew of tea and some thick slices of bread. ‘They need me too much. Good with the engineering, I am, see and no-one knows how to make things work like Jono Morgan. ‘Well, it’s coming into shape, now,’ Jono looked at her over the edge of his cup. ‘Bit o’ paint on the outside next, is it?’
Arian nodded absently. ‘Once the worst of the clearing work is over, I’ll face the most difficult task of all, Jono. I want suppliers willing to provide paper and ink and prepared to wait for their money.’
‘What about the money you’ve got in the bank then, love?’ Jono asked, biting a huge chunk out of his bread.
‘Most of that will be needed to pay the wages of a typesetter and reporters.’ Arian knew she could do much of the actual writing herself, but she would need a young eager man who could go into areas where she would stand out like a sore thumb. She would also want an editor, and a sub, two if possible.
‘We must find advertisers, Jono.’ She put down her cup. ‘They pay part of the costs of publishing the paper. I’ll need to approach the owners of furniture stores and general emporiums, that sort of thing. There’s an awful lot to do before we get this thing off the ground.’
‘It’ll come, girl,’ Jono spoke with an easy confidence that she envied. ‘It will come, don’t you worry.’
The first night she slept in her own home right on the top of the tall building, Arian felt such a sense of release it was almost like a rebirth. She was her own woman at last, about to make her own mark on the world. It was a heady feeling.
She slept well and in the morning, dressed in her neatest clothes, made her way around town in a hired cab.
It might seem an extravagance but the expense was worth it for the time she would save, and to arrive in style would make a good impression on prospective advertisers.
It was easier than she’d expected. Her rates were competitive and her first approaches were made to people
with whom she’d had dealings before.
Craig Grenfell’s foreman at the leather company took notes and assured her that she would have some business from them and the fact that his eyes were taking in every detail of her appearance didn’t deter her at all. Indeed, if men found her attractive, so much the better for her business.
John Miller spoke to her personally. ‘I will be very happy to place an advertisement with your new newspaper, Miss Smale. Anything I can do to help, just let me know. It’s people like you, with a bit of go in them who deserve a hand up.’ Arian warmed to him; tactfully, he had accepted her maiden name without question. She had no intention of being known as Mrs Simples; she and Gerald were married but that didn’t mean he owned her.
It was the owner of one of the smaller boot and shoe establishments who struck the one and only sour note.
‘Aren’t you the young lady who lost a whole load of French calf in the most odd circumstances? No, I don’t think I shall be advertising in your newspaper. No, indeed not.’
In spite of that one incident, the entire day passed swiftly and fruitfully and, feeling weary and a little overwhelmed by the ambitious nature of the task she’d taken on, Arian decided to sit for a while on a bench in Victoria Park.
It was a fresh day. The trees around her were swaying in the salty breeze coming in from the sea. She glanced along the path and with a shock of recognition saw a familiar figure making his way towards her.
‘Eddie Carpenter, what are you doing here? Taking time off from doctoring?’ She studied him. Eddie was more mature, obviously more polished in his behaviour and manners but he was still the same old Eddie who’d lain with her in the grass.
‘Arian, you look better. You’re well over your fever now, and to answer your question, yes, I’m having a day off. I’m entitled you know.’
‘Eddie, come and sit down by me, let me tell you all that’s been happening lately. I feel like getting an objective view on my chances of making a success.’
‘A success of what? When I know what you’re talking about I might be able to offer an opinion.’ Eddie listened quietly as she described the way she’d set about starting up the paper and when she’d run out of breath, he leaned over her.
‘We could do with another rag in Swansea.’ He smiled and she knew he was teasing. ‘I might even be persuaded to give some small financial backing to this wonderful newspaper and I have a good lead story for you to kick off with.’
‘What? Tell me.’
‘Patience, Arian, but then that was never one of your virtues, was it? Come to think of it, you had no virtues at all.’ He dodged her fist. ‘All right, keep calm. It’s just that I’ve arranged a meeting next month of doctors from the surrounding areas. I want them to come to a conference in Swansea. I’ll invite other responsible delegates such as our MPs and the members of the Chamber of Commerce so that we can all discuss the appalling conditions that still exist in parts of Swansea. Shall I go on?’ Arian nodded.
‘We have too many slums. Even in these so-called enlightened days some people are still living in uninhabitable hovels, drinking water from stagnant ponds, even from the canals. We want better water supplies and more efficient sewage works if we’re to stamp out fever and pestilence.’
‘Quite a speech.’ Arian regarded him steadily. ‘Can I use all this as a personal interview?’
‘I don’t see why not.’ Eddie frowned. ‘I don’t suppose it will make me over-popular in certain circles but then I never did care what anyone thought, did I?’
‘Eddie, I could kiss you,’ Arian said sincerely, and he raised his eyebrows in mock alarm.
‘You’d better not. My wife and four children might not understand.’
‘Eddie, I’m so pleased for you. A family man, a fine doctor, but still with fire in your belly. I couldn’t be more delighted.’
‘Ah, but you helped make it all happen,’ Eddie said. ‘You it was who got Calvin Temple to put up the money for my training. I owe you a great deal for that.’
‘You don’t owe me anything,’ Arian said, ‘but if I can’t kiss you, can I at least give you all my thanks?’ She embraced him and realized that her feelings of weariness had been replaced by a burning enthusiasm to write up all that Eddie had told her. It would make a fine lead for her first issue – controversial and yet caring for the people.
A month later, the first edition of the newly named Swansea Times appeared on the streets. Ragged boys stood on corners shouting the news, posters papered to walls gave out the headlines, LOCAL DOCTOR SPEAKS OUT.
Arian was deeply in debt. She had paid her workers for the next two weeks and after that, unless the paper made a profit, she was lost.
She leaned out of the window of the Swansea Times and felt excitement build up within her. All she needed now was for the townspeople to buy, then she would be on her way.
It was a tense day. Her young reporters sat around sharpening pencils, trying to think of the next week’s news. In the bowels of the building typesetters worked to meet the deadline but Arian felt too overwrought to write or even think.
But, by the end of the day, she knew it was going to be all right. It was Eddie who broke the news. He came into the office and held up a bottle of champagne.
‘Congratulations, Arian. The first printing is sold out on the streets. There’s not one copy of the Swansea Times to be had anywhere and I should know, I’ve scoured the town.’
She hugged him and he lifted her from her feet and swung her round. ‘Tomorrow,’ Arian said breathlessly, ‘the letters should start coming in. You must give me more quotes Eddie, keep me up to date with your progress. We’ll make a local hero of you yet.’
‘God forbid,’ Eddie was smiling. ‘I’ve had my hand shaken so many times today, I don’t think I’ll ever use it again.’
Arian worked late that evening. It was as though she was inspired. It was only when Bridie and Jono came hammering on the door and burst into her rooms carrying bottles of ale and plates of sandwiches that she raised her head from her writing.
‘We’ve come to help you celebrate,’ Jono said hugging her. ‘I bet you’ve had nothing to eat all day.’
Bridie was more restrained but just as pleased. ‘You’re on your way, Arian,’ she said. ‘I can see the Swansea Times becoming part of everybody’s life.’
Arian made a wry face. ‘Aye, all I need now is to keep up the good work, find the stories, keep the adverts coming. Not much if you say it quick.’ But as she took a glass of ale and lifted it to clink glasses with Bridie and Jono she felt a sense of warm achievement sweep over her. She had done it, at least made a good start, a very good start. It was ironic, really, that by following in her father’s footsteps, she was finding a sense of fulfilment. Even if she was never going to know happiness with a man, then she would work her fingers to the bone for the Times, make news, and people who made the news her living. It was a heady prospect.
‘I’ve never seen you looking so well and happy,’ Bridie observed. ‘You have obviously done the right thing, setting up this paper.’
‘I couldn’t have done it without your help, I’m grateful to both of you.’ Arian, looking at Bridie, wondered how much she guessed about her past. Bridie had never asked questions, had taken Arian on face value but she must have heard stories, been told the scandal of the lost load of French calf, not to mention the way Arian had lived her life, flaunting all the conventions, running wild about the countryside. But she was not a woman to judge.
Bridie met her eyes and smiled wanly. She didn’t speak but Arian had the distinct impression that not much missed Bridie’s shrewd eyes.
As the days passed, the Swansea Times became part of the fabric of the town. Circulation continued to rise and Arian knew that she must take on a more senior reporter. There was no way she could administer the business side of things and seek out the stories too.
She wrote out an advertisement which would appear in several editions of the paper and specified that the rep
orter must be a woman. She wanted no more complications in her life, no more men cluttering up her offices.
She would be breaking new ground, possibly antagonizing many with her views, but it was high time women were given a chance to break into what hitherto had been a man’s world.
She was putting on her coat, intending to walk to the shops when the bell on the office door clanged. Arian expected to find someone wanting to advertise in her paper and hurried downstairs, her coat flapping around her legs. She stopped in the doorway, drawing a breath sharply as she recognized the man standing near the counter.
‘Arian,’ he spoke her name softly, ‘Arian, it’s taken me so long to pluck up the courage to come to you. I never thought it would be easy but I didn’t know how difficult it would be to face you.’ He paused and looked down at her as though he would leap the counter and take her in his arms.
‘Calvin.’ She said his name on a sharply drawn breath. She longed to take him in her arms, to hold him and kiss him and tell him that without him, her world, her achievements, were empty. She’d filled her life with work and yet, now that she saw him again, she knew she wanted more, much more. And then her strong feeling of common sense asserted itself. ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked more calmly.
‘I want you to come and live with me. I’ll give you the finest house, I’ll give you anything you want, you can come to me on your own terms.’
How she had longed to hear him say those very words but not now, not just when she was beginning to make something positive out of the ruins of her life.
‘You forget something, Calvin. I’m still a married woman. What sort of reception would I get, would we both get, from the people of Swansea if we lived openly in sin?’
The door swung open and a young boy placed a note on the desk and hurried out. ‘It’s from an advertiser, I expect,’ Arian opened the paper and saw that she was right. She dropped it into her file and looked up at Calvin.
