by Iris Gower
Eynon left the room by the French windows and walked along the path that bordered the well manicured lawns of Ty Mawr. He felt angry, humiliated, but what was new in that? His father always had that effect on him. As a boy, all Eynon ever wanted was love and respect but there had been precious little of that in the Morton-Edwards household.
One day, he supposed, he would fall in love, meet someone who would like him for himself, but that day was a long time coming. What a pity he could not fall in love with little Llinos Savage. Indeed, he believed he was half in love with her already. Imagine his father’s rage if he was presented with grandsons from the Savage family.
Lloyd Savage had always been a great big thorn in Philip Morton-Edwards’ side. The two men had hated each other, they had been rivals, the two potteries lying almost side by side, in direct competition with each other. But it was the Tawe Pottery which had risen to supremacy.
Eynon picked up a stone and threw it across the lawn. The stone skimmed through the bushes, sending small creatures scurrying for cover. It was high time he moved out of his father’s house. He would begin looking for a property at once.
Later, he would call to see Llinos, she was up against it, she needed all the help and encouragement she could get.
He returned to the house only long enough to get his topcoat and hat. It was a fine day and there was only a short distance to walk to town but he was, as always, conscious of his weak constitution. He stepped out into the road and looked up at the clear sky above him. Today was a new day, he would put his father right out of his mind. Soon, he would be living in a house of his own, he would be free.
Llinos opened the door of Pottery House and smiled as she saw Eynon standing on the step, his hat in his hand, a jaunty bow at his neck.
‘Good morning, Miss Savage,’ Eynon said. ‘I have come calling on you. I hope I have not chosen an inconvenient moment.’
‘Come in and stop fooling around.’ Llinos looked along the row and noticed several of the neighbours watching the proceedings with interest. ‘You horror! You’ll have everyone talking about us.’ She led the way into the kitchen.
‘Sit down somewhere, I was just making a pot of tea.’ She pushed the kettle onto the fire and picked up the brown teapot. Everything was orderly and in its place since Maura had taken to working in the kitchen.
Maura was making herself too much at home in Pottery House, Llinos thought worriedly. Goodness knows what she would be like if she was at home all day instead of working at the vicar’s house.
Llinos made the tea and handed a cup to Eynon. He was relaxing in the large rocking chair, his legs stretched out before him, his polished boots almost touching the fender. With his starched linen and fine topcoat, he looked incongruous in such a homely setting.
‘I haven’t seen you for a few days,’ Eynon said. ‘I’ve had a chill. Did you miss me?’
‘Yes, I suppose I did.’ Llinos brushed back her hair. Her arms ached, she had been working in the sheds since daybreak. Eynon was lucky he had found her in the house instead of having to search the pottery buildings for her.
‘Though to be truthful, I’ve been working so hard I haven’t had the energy to think of anything else,’ she said.
‘I’m flattered, I’m sure.’ Eynon spoke dryly. ‘Anyway, if you’ve been working so hard, what are you doing sloping around the house making tea?’
‘I’m entitled to a break now and again.’ Llinos heard the indignation in her voice and when Eynon smiled she knew he had been teasing her. Like a fool she had risen to the bait.
She sat down on one of the heavy oak kitchen chairs. ‘I’m grateful for the money you put into the pottery, but as my new partner I hoped you would find time to help me with the books.’
She looked at him closely; he was paler than usual and there was a faint red mark running along his cheek.
‘What’s wrong?’ she asked.
‘It’s a long story,’ Eynon said. ‘But I’ll tell you anyway.’ He sat forward, his shoulders hunched, and Llinos saw that he was not as relaxed as he pretended to be.
‘My father thought he would thrash some sense into me.’ Eynon’s eyes were dark. ‘Needless to say, it didn’t work. The point is, I can’t stay under the same roof as him any longer.’
Llinos touched his hand. ‘You can stay here with me for as long as you like,’ she said impulsively.
His face softened. ‘I knew you’d say that, but it wouldn’t do.’
‘What do you mean?’ Llinos looked at him in surprise. Eynon shook his head.
‘People would talk, don’t you realize that?’
‘What would they say?’
Eynon smiled. ‘You innocent. They would say I was bedding you, those who believed me man enough, that is.’
She lifted her chin. ‘Let them talk, I won’t see you out on the street.’
‘I have plenty of money, I won’t be out on the street, don’t you worry.’ He squeezed her hand. ‘But thank you for caring. I’ve known from the very first time I set eyes on you that we would be good friends.’ He paused, lifting his head in an attitude of listening. ‘What’s that?’
From outside in the row, the sound of voices rose to a cheer. ‘What on earth is going on?’
Eynon got to his feet and moved swiftly towards the door. Llinos followed more slowly, knowing it took very little for the good people of the neighbourhood to become excited. Just the arrival of the baker’s cart was enough to cause a stir.
Eynon’s tall frame blocked out the sunlight and the view of the street. Llinos tried to peer over his shoulder but she was too small to see anything.
‘Captain Savage has come home!’ Celia-end-house was shouting hysterically, her voice high above the cheers of the crowd.
Llinos froze – her father? Was Celia demented? Her father was dead, killed in the war. Her mother had shown her the letter. As Eynon stepped aside,
Llinos saw a man standing before her. He was tall and long dark hair hung down his back. He looked into her eyes and she recognized him. Carved as if from granite, his face was foreign and yet familiar. The eyes, blue and heavy-lidded, seemed to look at her without surprise.
‘I have brought your father home, Miss Savage.’ His voice was low, cultured. It was as much a shock as the words he spoke.
‘My father?’ She heard her voice high-pitched, unrecognizable. ‘My father is dead.’
‘No, he is safe, he has come home.’ Llinos was aware of the sunlight, the warmth of the stone beneath her feet. It was as though time was suspended and she was looking in on the world from outside. People were telling her that Father had come home but how could that be?
‘Llinos! Can this big girl be my daughter?’ The voice was low, husky, and it stirred memories of her childhood. It was true, her father was alive.
‘Father!’ She walked towards him and drank in the pallor of his face and the white of his hair. His face was scarred, older than she remembered, but it was the face she loved.
‘Cariad.’ In spite of having aged, he looked fine in his military uniform, his posture was upright, his back stiff, his shoulders square. He held himself with dignity as befitted an officer. ‘Are you going to give me a kiss, then, or have you forgotten me?’
She scrambled up the steps of the cart and flung herself into his arms. As he hugged her she breathed in the scent of his tobacco, felt the heat rise from the coarse material of his uniform. The scents of him were achingly familiar.
‘Oh, Father, they told us you were dead.’ She clung to him, her arms around his neck, her face buried against his shoulder.
‘There, my little girl, it’s all right. I’m back, I’ll take care of you now, no need to fret.’
‘You know about . . . Mother?’ Llinos looked into his face anxiously.
He nodded. ‘When I called at my bank in Cardiff I found they had been contacted by Robert Francis of Swansea on your behalf because he thought you were an orphan.’ He held her away from him and looked into her face.
‘Did she die peacefully?’
‘Come on, let’s go into the house.’ Llinos spoke softly. ‘We can talk about it later.’
‘Joe, will you give me a hand?’ Lloyd Savage looked past her shoulder and Llinos turned to see the tall stranger who was so familiar to her standing beside her.
His eyes, blue as the summer skies, rested on Llinos and she felt again an almost physical blow of recognition. She had never seen him before and yet he was as familiar to her as her own face in the mirror.
He nodded in her direction, as if he understood her feelings, and leaned into the carriage. As he lifted the captain and carried him towards the door, Llinos realized that her father had not come home from the war unscathed.
She swallowed her shock. ‘Take my father into the sitting-room, please, it’s just there to the right,’ Llinos said as the group of neighbours, hushed now, moved to make way for them.
‘I can give my own directions, I am not a visitor, nor an invalid to be humoured.’ There was a note of reproof in her father’s tone and Llinos acknowledged it with a droop of her head.
She saw Eynon look at her doubtfully, wondering if he should leave. She beckoned to him to follow.
Lloyd Savage settled into a chair, adjusted the shawl over his knees. He studied Eynon hard for a moment before speaking.
‘I know your father and knowing him I can’t help but wonder what you are doing in my house.’
‘He is a friend, Father,’ Llinos said quickly, ‘a very good friend.’
‘I see. Llinos, call one of the maids to fetch me a beaker of cordial, would you? I’ve got a raging thirst.’
Llinos looked at Eynon and shook her head warningly. Time enough to explain there were no maids when her father was rested. When she returned to the sitting-room, Eynon was studying the stranger and there was an odd look on his face. When he saw her, he raised an eyebrow enquiringly.
‘Eynon, don’t go,’ Llinos said, catching his hand. ‘Father, I must explain, Eynon is more than a friend, he is a partner. He’s put money into the business, without him I couldn’t have carried on. The business was failing and Eynon helped me try to save it.’
‘Why would you work in opposition to that rascal who is your father?’ Lloyd asked and Llinos felt herself grow tense.
‘I do not agree with much that my father does,’ Eynon said. ‘But for all that I will not have him insulted.’
After a moment, Lloyd Savage nodded. ‘I respect you for that. I apologize for my rudeness. Please sit down, join us in a cup of lemonade. You too, Joe.’
Joe sat awkwardly, his long legs stretched out before him.
‘I should introduce Joe.’ Savage smiled at his daughter. ‘Like you, I am loyal to my friends and Joe is a dear friend. He saved my life, not once but several times. A year ago at Leipzig I was lost for several days. Missing believed killed. It was probably then that some well meaning general wrote to your mother.’
Llinos looked at Joe, looked into the blue of his eyes and felt the sweetness she had experienced in her dreams. Then there had been no barriers, now there were many. He inclined his head and she saw the dark hair swing forward over his shoulder and felt the urge to touch its softness.
‘I am honoured to meet you, Miss Savage.’ Like the first time she had heard him speak, it was a shock to hear how cultured his voice was. It was strangely at variance with his foreign appearance, and yet the sound of it sank through her veins and into her being and rested in a secret place there.
‘Thank you for all you’ve done for my father.’ She swallowed hard, not knowing if she should hold out her hand to him.
‘Give him your hand, then, Llinos,’ her father encouraged. ‘He won’t bite!’ She obeyed with an eagerness that surprised her.
Joe’s hand was warm and strong. He lifted her fingers to his lips and she felt the colour rise to her cheeks.
‘Ah, Joe, this is a side of you I’ve never seen before,’ the captain said. ‘Your father must have educated you well.’
Joe released Llinos’s fingers and sat back in his chair. ‘He did.’
Eynon had been watching silently. Now he leaned forward. ‘I suppose you attended one of our fine British schools?’ There was a hint of sarcasm in his tone. Joe looked at him steadily.
‘As a matter of fact, I did,’ he said simply.
‘Then your father must have been a very influential man.’ Eynon rose to his feet and bowed. ‘If you will excuse me, Llinos, sir?’ He moved to the door and paused.
‘I don’t know if you are going to need my help with the books after all, Llinos, but if there is anything I can do, just let me know.’
‘Not so fast, young man.’ Lloyd Savage turned to look over his shoulder with difficulty. ‘Come round here where I can see you, for heaven’s sake.’
Eynon came forward and stood waiting for the captain to speak.
‘You have put money into the pottery?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Then you and I will have much to talk about, I think.’
Eynon looked at Llinos. ‘I have been dealing with your daughter, we are . . . used to each other’s ways.’
‘I see. Well, you will soon get used to my ways. In any event, we can discuss it at our leisure at another time. In the meantime, I must thank you for looking after my daughter.’
Eynon smiled. ‘It was my great pleasure and I trust it will continue to be my pleasure in the future.’ His eyes rested briefly on Joe and then he left the room.
In the days that followed her father’s return, Llinos felt strangely unsettled. Lloyd had taken over the master bedroom and at first he was outraged that Binnie and Maura were sleeping together in one of the guest rooms. Llinos could not decide if he was more upset about the fact that common workers were living in his house or that the two were not married.
Joe chose to sleep in the kitchen, curled in a blanket. He seemed to have made instant friends with Watt, who now slept beside him.
Llinos in her own bedroom was subject to strange dreams. Dreams of eagles, of flying over large seas and continents. But the most disturbing dreams were those in which she was in Joe’s arms. Those dreams she rejected as soon as she woke and yet the feeling of warmth they engendered lasted for many hours.
As the days passed, it seemed that the entire household had begun to accept the changes without further comment, but for Llinos, who had to balance the housekeeping accounts, life was made more difficult. She would have to talk to her father, ask him for money.
But what made everything worse was that Joe kept his distance from her. He had not been out of her thoughts since she had first set eyes on him. He was such a strange mixture, half Indian in his beliefs and visions and at the same time civilized, with impeccable table manners and an air of politeness that did much to keep people at a distance.
She knew she had been drawn to him from the first moment she had seen him. She felt gratitude, of course, whenever she thought of his kindness to her father, but more, she wanted to be close to Joe. She knew that his devotion to Lloyd was part of the problem. Some sense of propriety prevented Joe from appearing overfamiliar with his captain’s daughter. But she wanted very badly for them to be friends.
Most days, Llinos came downstairs to find that Joe had kept the fire going in the kitchen. But on this sunny morning, she woke to the unexpected sound of hammering. She rose and washed quickly and then paused to glance out at the early morning emptiness of the row. Birds were singing in the brush at the back of the houses, the sun was shining and yet Llinos was filled with a strange melancholy.
She tied up her hair impatiently and hurried downstairs, she had breakfast to make before she went to work.
‘Good morning, Joe.’ He was kneeling on the floor, hammering wheels onto one of the good dining-room chairs. ‘What are you doing?’
He did not look up. ‘Putting wheels on one of your dining chairs.’
‘I can see that.’ She watched as he manoeuvred the chair over the fl
ags, wheeling it to and fro. ‘Ah! I see what you have in mind, now, that’s wonderful, Joe.’
‘It will give your father some independence. He will be able to move around the house at will.’ Joe glanced at her briefly. ‘He might even be able to work again. A man has his pride.’
Llinos swallowed the constriction in her throat. Joe was far too perceptive, he saw things that most people did not.
‘I’m going to the sheds,’ she said.
‘You should eat.’ Joe stared down at her and she was tinglingly aware of him. She longed to touch the silkiness of his hair, instead she moved away.
‘I’m not hungry.’
It was good to be in the sanctuary of the potting shed. With her father’s injection of funds, she had been able to employ more staff. Four throwers worked the wheels, turning out pots with the swiftness of long practice. Two more young handlers had been employed and even Watt had a boy to help with clearing up the scraps of clay.
Llinos had reopened one of the disused sheds where three ladies sat decorating the wares. The pottery was doing very well and yet she could not help feeling that something had been lost along the way.
‘Morning, Miss Savage.’ One of the throwers nodded without pausing in his work. He dipped his hands in a bowl of water and lifted a piece of flannel to wipe around the rim of the tall pot he was shaping.
‘Good morning, Freddy.’
She wandered out into the sunlight. There seemed to be nothing she could do, at least not in any practical way. She was a good thrower, she could decorate as well as anyone, but she had been forced to resume her role as daughter of the house, a young lady who had no need to soil her hands with clay. It was a situation she did not much like.
She heard the scrape of wheels against the gravel of the path leading towards the pottery. Her father smiled when he saw her.
‘Joe’s adapted a chair for me, isn’t he brilliant?’ He wheeled himself closer. ‘You are looking rather grim, what on earth is the matter?’
‘Nothing, Father.’
‘Then come with me, I’m going to try my hand at making a pot, something I haven’t done in years.’
