Firebird

by Iris Gower

  Llinos left the paint shop and retraced her steps across the yard. There seemed no place for her now within the pottery sheds. Everything had been organized efficiently without her. It was a strange feeling.

  She saw Watt carrying a bowl of scraps on his head, stumbling over the rough ground. ‘Watt! Isn’t that a heavy load for you?’

  ‘No, miss, it’s easy. I’m taking it to the bins ready for the horse and cart.’ He grinned cheerfully and for a moment Llinos felt a flicker of regret for the difficult months after her mother’s death when she had tried to keep the pottery alive on a shoestring.

  ‘Well take care you don’t work too hard. And, Watt, I’m Llinos, remember? No need to call me miss.’ Llinos returned to the house and hung her apron behind the kitchen door. The sun was shining in through the windows, there was a dreaming silence about the house as if everything in it was asleep.

  Then she heard sounds of movement, the creak of her father’s chair as he manoeuvred it along the passage and into the room he had converted into an office. Somehow, the bond between herself and her father was not as strong as it should be. He quarrelled with her often, finding fault with what she wore, how she spoke. Worst of all, he criticized the way she had been running the pottery in his absence, it just was not fair of him.

  Still, she should remember what he had been through and humour him. Perhaps she should find out if he needed anything. As she put her hand on the latch, the door sprung open. She made an involuntary move backwards as she came face to face with Joe. His dark hair was tied back from his face. There was a smudge of paint on his cheek. It was clear he had been working on the Indian designs.

  His sleeves were rolled up and the skin of his arms was red gold in the sunlight. She breathed in the scent of him even while she tried to appear unmoved by his nearness.

  ‘Your father would like something to drink.’ He moved past her towards the deep pantry. ‘There should be some cordial left in the jug.’ He looked at her over his shoulder. ‘You really should get help with the housework. The place is too big for you to manage alone.’

  Suddenly she felt anger so intense she thought it would choke her. She lashed out at Joe as though he was the source of all her frustration. And, perhaps, he was.

  ‘Oh, is it?’ She felt her cheeks grow hot. ‘Well, how kind of you to say so. I managed quite well before you came htre, remember? In any case, I don’t appreciate being told what to do in my own house.’

  He half smiled. ‘Do you wish to waste your talents standing over a stove or scrubbing floors? Is that your ambition in life, Miss Savage?’

  ‘Don’t patronize me.’ She knew she was being ridiculous but now she had begun, she did not know how to stop. ‘You come here, a stranger and take charge of everything.’ She gestured towards the cup in his hand. ‘You don’t even leave the smallest of jobs for me.’

  Her anger evaporated suddenly. She sank down into a chair and covered her face with her hands. ‘I have no place here any more, I am no use to anyone.’

  She stiffened as she felt his hands rest on her shoulders. She was aware of him as he stood behind her. She felt the heat of his fingers through the thinness of her gown. She wanted to turn and fling herself into his arms.

  ‘Your destiny is shaped for you,’ he said. ‘Just as surely as the patterns are shaped on the clay, so your life will follow its own design.’

  She rose from the chair and stood close, looking up at him. He read her easily and shook his head.

  ‘The time is not yet right, Llinos. Be patient.’ He touched her cheek lightly with the tips of his fingers and then he turned and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

  There were tears in her eyes and they fell hot and angry between her fingers. She wanted to scream and cry, she wanted to run in the breeze to be caught and held by Joe and to be pressed into the sweet grass. She wanted . . . she wanted the impossible.

  ‘I shan’t be coming here for much longer, Father.’ Maura hung the drying-cloths on the line above the mantelpiece and stared outside to where a pale sun was silvering the leaves of the conifers.

  ‘I know.’ The vicar put his hand on her shoulder. ‘You need to conserve your energy for that new life you have in there.’

  ‘And I need to save you embarrassment,’ Maura said drily. Father Duncan smiled.

  ‘I’m past being embarrassed at my time of life, Maura.’

  ‘Still, people will talk.’

  ‘So they will, but have things ever been different? Folks will make it up if they have no real gossip to exchange.’ He patted her gently.

  ‘I’m sorry that offer of a rented house came to nought, child.’

  ‘I wasn’t surprised,’ Maura said. ‘The Pryces are a good church-going family, they wouldn’t want to give a home to a fallen woman.’

  ‘Tosh! They did not think you would pay them the high rent they were asking, that is the be-all and end-all of it.’

  ‘But I must get out of Pottery House before the baby is born. The Savage family have been good to me for Binnie’s sake, but I can’t expect them to support me and my child.’

  Father Duncan pushed the kettle onto the flames and perched on the edge of the table.

  ‘Will Binnie not marry you, Maura?’

  She shook her head. ‘I won’t lower my pride to ask him again, Father. Please, I don’t want to talk about it.’

  ‘Right then, let’s change the subject. Tell me about this man, this so-called heathen the folks of the town are so busy talking about.’

  ‘Joe? He’s not a heathen.’

  ‘But he is a foreigner?’ the vicar persisted.

  ‘Sure he’s a foreigner – in some ways.’

  ‘Well, he is not a Welshman nor yet an Irishman nor even an Englishman so what is he?’

  ‘He’s half American Indian.’ Maura smiled. ‘His father is a rich English gentleman; he had Joe educated in a fine school. And whatever else he is, Joe is wise and gentle and beautiful and if I was not head-over-heels in love with Binnie I would throw myself at his feet, so I would.’

  Father Duncan chuckled. ‘Not advisable in your condition, my dear child. How does he speak, then?’

  ‘He speaks like an English gentleman,’ Maura said. ‘He has a voice like a crystal stream falling over rocks made of diamonds.’

  ‘Well, I can see you are smitten.’

  Maura looked at the vicar soberly. ‘Joe is a good man, he saved the life of Captain Savage and brought him home. He has made a chair with wheels so that the captain can move about the house and when the captain is sick, Joe tends him as if he was a baby.’

  ‘No-one can ask more of any man,’ Father Duncan said. ‘But I have heard that the Indian goes into trances, conjures up spirits of his ancestors, worships the buffalo, that sort of thing. If the man does that then is he not a heathen?’

  ‘I don’t know about that.’ Maura was on the defensive. ‘He does not go to church, not any church, but he is a very . . . a very . . .’

  ‘Spiritual man?’ the vicar supplied.

  Maura nodded. ‘Sure an’ that’s just what I would call him – spiritual. And Father, if Joe worships God in his own way, surely that’s his right?’

  ‘Ah, I was displaying my idle curiosity, I didn’t know we were going to have a deep theological discussion.’ Father Duncan pushed himself upright and made a pot of tea. ‘Sit down, child, let us talk a little more before you go on your way home. I may be a man of the cloth but I too get lonely for company at times.’

  Maura obediently sat at the table, easing her legs apart to accommodate her enlarged stomach. The baby kicked inside her and she touched her belly in wonder.

  ‘You have a lively boy in there, it would seem,’ the vicar said easily. ‘I know it’s a sore subject but what if I talked to your man, asked him to come to church and marry you before the birth of your child?’

  ‘He does not want to be tied down, at least that’s what he says. He tells me the baby is my fault and says that at le
ast he’s standing by me.’ She had been half expecting a lecture and she did not need it, however kindly it was meant.

  ‘Do you want me to have a word with him, then?’ Father Duncan said.

  Maura shook her head. ‘I’ll speak to him again myself, I promise.’

  ‘Make it soon, Maura, that little one is not going to wait much longer. Now, let’s drink our tea and talk about something else, shall we?’

  Later, as Maura made her way uphill towards Pottery Row, she wondered how she could persuade Binnie to marry her. It was not so much the ring on her finger, although that was important too, it was the fact that she did not want her child born out of wedlock. Once a bastard, in the eyes of the world he would always be a bastard.

  She shivered, the day had grown sunless and cold and she suddenly felt like crying. She belonged to no-one, she had no home of her own and soon she was bringing an illegitimate child into the world. How did she get herself into this mess? But she knew well enough: her flesh was too weak and her love of life too strong.

  As she reached the edge of the town, Maura saw a group of women standing on the corner near Bristow’s boot and shoe shop. They fell silent, staring at her in open curiosity. One of them spoke, not even attempting to lower her voice.

  ‘She’s one of them Irish peasants from Greenhill. Got herself with child and no ring on her finger, ought to be ashamed.’

  As Maura walked on, head in the air, she heard the woman call out.

  ‘Whore! Not fit to be seen by decent folks.’

  Tears came then, hot and burning. Silently, they ran down her face and into her mouth. She stumbled round the corner and into Pottery Row, anxious to be indoors, out of the sight of prying eyes.

  ‘Maura, what’s wrong?’ Llinos caught her by the shoulders. ‘Tell me, Maura, what’s happened?’ Suddenly Maura was sobbing as though her heart would break.

  ‘Come inside,’ Llinos urged. ‘We’ll have a nice hot cup of tea.’ She guided Maura into the kitchen. ‘Everything will look better when you’ve had a little cry.’

  ‘No, it won’t,’ Maura said. ‘Some women in the street, they called me a whore and they are right. I’m going to give birth to a bastard and all because I fell in love with a man who will not marry me whatever I say. How can I bear it, how can I walk out with my child and face the world?’

  ‘To hell with them!’ Llinos was surprised by her own bitterness. ‘They talked about my mother and Mr Cimla and made things ten times worse. Look, Maura, as long as the gossips are not paying for your keep then what you do with your life is none of their business.’

  Maura rubbed at her eyes. ‘Maybe, but don’t you make the same mistake as I’ve made, miss.’ Her voice was thick with tears. ‘Loving a man can tear you to pieces and giving in to your passion without thought brings you nothing but trouble.’

  She took the handkerchief Llinos offered. ‘But you are sensible, miss. You have been well brought up and you would not let yourself down as I have.’

  ‘I am no better than you so don’t be silly. We are all capable of making mistakes.’

  ‘I know you are in love with Joe but you wouldn’t be so daft as to go to his bed, would you?’

  She saw the colour rise in Llinos’s face. ‘I’m sorry if I’m being forward, but being in love myself I know the signs.’

  Llinos walked towards the window, her back to the room, and Maura could tell by the squareness of her shoulders that Llinos wanted her to mind her own business.

  ‘Look,’ Llinos said. ‘When Binnie finishes his shift on the ovens, I’ll talk to him.’

  ‘I don’t know if it would do any good. I don’t think Binnie would take kindly to anyone, well . . .’

  ‘Interfering?’ Llinos smiled. ‘Me and Binnie go back a long way, I think he will listen to me. I promise I’ll be tactful.’

  Maura swallowed her tears, she knew Llinos meant to be kind but talking to Binnie might only make him angry.

  She rose to her feet. ‘I am looking for a place for me and Binnie to rent, miss. I’d like you to know that. We don’t want to be a burden to you for ever.’

  ‘Oh, good heavens, Maura!’ Llinos turned to face her. ‘I wouldn’t hear of you leaving, not in your condition.’ She paused. ‘I know I said you had to find a place before the baby came, well now I’ve changed my mind. You can stay until you find something suitable. I understand your wish to have a house of your own and I’ll even help you find one, but first let us get your baby safely into the world.’ She rested her hand on Maura’s arm. ‘You can’t be alone, not at a time like this. Anyway’ – she spoke more briskly – ‘until I employ some servants you are the only other woman in the house. If you leave I’ll be alone with all the menfolk. That would set tongues wagging.’

  ‘I never thought of that.’ Maura smiled, she knew that Llinos Savage’s future was secure, her father had come home and he was rich enough to employ a house full of women servants if he chose. There was no question of the privileged Miss Savage being compromised. Still, Maura would be grateful to stay. She did not want to be alone at the birth time when it came.

  ‘Thank you for being so kind,’ she said but the words almost choked her.

  The next morning, as Llinos strolled along the roadway into town, she was remembering Maura’s words with a prickling of fear. The Irish girl was right, to love an unsuitable man was to look for trouble. She stopped outside Prosser’s coffee-house and peered inside. Eynon was there before her as she had known he would be. He was nothing if not punctual.

  He rose and joined her in the street. ‘Morning, Llinos.’ He smiled down at her as she linked her arm with his. ‘You are inviting gossip, you know.’

  ‘I don’t give a fig for gossip,’ she said. ‘Come on, let’s sit in the park in full view of anyone who cares to look.’

  ‘I haven’t seen you for almost a week,’ Llinos said and Eynon nodded.

  ‘I know, but there is no need for me to come up to the pottery these days, is there? My little investment is paying dividends even while I sit here enjoying this fine winter’s day.’ He paused. ‘In any case, Joe is always around and I don’t see any fun in torturing myself.’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Llinos said huffily.

  ‘I mean I see Joe as a rival for your affections, Llinos. Surely you are not so blind that you can’t see we both want you?’

  ‘Since when? You and I are friends, that’s all.’

  ‘You must like me a little, Llinos, otherwise you would not be sitting here with me.’

  ‘I wanted to ask a favour of a friend, Eynon, that’s why I asked you to meet me.’

  ‘I guessed so. Things getting too much for you at the pottery, are they?’

  ‘Just the opposite. I have not enough to do. I feel useless in my own home.’

  ‘You need some servants up at Pottery House now that the funds are coming in. You would have your work cut out then, seeing they do their work properly.’

  ‘Nonsense!’ she said impatiently. ‘Supervising servants is not what I want. Joe thinks the same idea of me as you do, he believes I have no ambition.’

  ‘Do you have ambition, Llinos?’

  ‘I don’t know. All I know is potting, it’s what I was born to, what I love. But now there are skilled workers in every department of the pottery and all I can do is stand by and watch.’

  ‘If you don’t like your life then you must change it.’ Eynon spoke quietly. ‘I did. I moved out of my father’s house and since then my life has been much more peaceful.’

  Llinos put her hand on his arm. ‘I know it took a great deal of courage to buy a house of your own and I admire you for making the break. But admit it, Eynon, you are lonely sometimes, aren’t you?’

  ‘I can’t deny that.’ He stared down at her ruefully. ‘The house echoes with emptiness. What I need is a family to fill it.’

  Llinos smiled. ‘That leads me very nicely to what it is I wanted to talk to you about.’

  ‘So it is not the lo
ve of your life, then? You are not here to talk about Joe?’

  Llinos pushed at his shoulder. ‘No, I am not! No, it is not about love, at least not my own. Are you going to be quiet and listen?’

  ‘I’ll be quiet.’

  ‘It’s about Maura and Binnie. Once the baby is born, Maura will need a job where she can take the baby with her. No, don’t speak, let me finish. The little family will also need a home, somewhere they can spread out a little.’

  She smiled up at him. ‘Now your house is a very large one and at the moment there is just you in it, except for the servants. Do you begin to see what I am getting at?’

  Eynon laughed. ‘I get the message loud and clear. You want me to give a home and a job to the little Irish girl, her lover and her illegitimate child. Don’t you think I invite enough gossip as it is?’

  ‘Oh, I didn’t think of that.’

  Eynon put his hand over hers. ‘I’m joking. I think it is a great idea. My house will be full, I will have the little family that I long for albeit an adopted one and I will have someone to oversee the mundane household tasks.’

  Llinos sank back against the wooden slats of the bench. ‘I thought it would be a good idea.’

  ‘Have you spoken to the happy couple about this?’ Eynon asked with raised eyebrows.

  ‘No.’ Llinos sighed. ‘I thought I would talk to you first, see if you would agree.’

  ‘Very kind of you. I wouldn’t put it past you to turn up with a cart full of possessions and a list of my orders written large. Know something, Llinos, you are a formidable lady.’

  ‘Am I?’ Llinos pulled a face. ‘Well, if I am, a fat lot of good it does me.’

  ‘Look, now we’ve sorted out everyone else’s problems, what about yours?’

  ‘I agree with what you said earlier, Eynon. If I don’t like my life, I must change it. The pity is I don’t know what I want to change it for.’

  ‘What is your greatest strength?’ Eynon asked. ‘Is it making the pots, decorating the pots or the administration of the entire enterprise? What do you really want to do?’