by Iris Gower
‘That’s fine, Maura. How’s the baby?’ He had heard the infant in the night crying pitifully. Maura’s face was shadowed.
‘She’s not right, sir. She’s got a terrible cough, shakes her little body it does.’
‘I shall send for Brayley, he’s an excellent doctor,’ Eynon said reassuringly.
‘Thank you, Mr Eynon, you are so kind, and sure I don’t deserve it.’
Eynon smiled. ‘No, I’m not being kind, I just want to make sure I get a good night’s sleep tonight!’
When Maura left the room, Llinos stood beside Eynon’s chair and wound her arms around his neck. He allowed his head to fall against her soft breasts, his thoughts in confusion. Was she teasing him or was she unaware of her own attraction?
‘You are kind, Eynon, you’re a good man and I love you to death.’
‘You love me like a brother, though, is that it?’ He spoke bitterly.
She kissed the top of his head and moved away from him. ‘Eynon, I have imposed on you far too long. Perhaps I should move out.’
Eynon lifted his hand to protest but Llinos rushed on. ‘I went to see your father’s foreman yesterday. I’ve got a job at the Tawe Pottery, I start at the beginning of the week.’
‘I see. Doing what, exactly?’
‘Wheel turner.’
‘A wheel turner? Llinos, you are worth better than that.’
‘It’s a start. Soon, I’ll graduate to better things.’
‘I expect my father thought it a fine joke to take on Lloyd Savage’s daughter.’
‘I didn’t even see your father. Why should he notice me?’
‘Don’t fool yourself, nothing gets past my father. He’ll know exactly who has been taken on at his precious pottery.’
‘Do you really think your father would allow me to work for him knowing who I was?’
Eynon shook his head. ‘I have given up trying to work out how my father thinks. Anyway, I don’t care about him. Work for him if you must but I want you to continue to live here with me.’
‘No, Eynon. It’s been agreed that I share one of the houses in Morton-Edwards Street with some of the other girls who work at the pottery.’
‘Oh aye, my father’s little hand-picked harem. You must be mad.’
‘Not mad, just proud. I can’t live on your charity for ever, can I?’
‘You could work for me instead of for my father.’
‘Doing what?’
‘I could think of something.’ He knew as soon as he had spoken that he had said the wrong thing. ‘I do need someone to run the house and that sort of thing. There’s the er . . . there’s the household expenses, they need monitoring.’
‘I won’t take a trumped-up job out of charity, Eynon. So you see, there’s nothing more to be said. I have a job and a place to live.’
She smiled at him. ‘Don’t worry too much, Binnie has already got a job at the Tawe Pottery, he’ll keep an eye on me. You know how grateful I am that you’ve put up with me this long.’
‘Look, Llinos, why don’t you marry me?’ He felt elated as he spoke the words. ‘I love you very much, you know that, and I want you to stay here with me. It would be the ideal solution, can’t you see that?’ He rose to his feet and faced her, his heart thumping. ‘Think about it, we have a great deal in common. We like each other’s company and . . .’
He fell silent as he saw Llinos shake her head. ‘No, I don’t want you proposing to me out of charity, Eynon. What if you should later meet someone you could fall in love with? In any case, I won’t marry anyone but Joe, you know that.’
His feeling of euphoria faded. ‘Knowing you, Llinos, you will get what you want in the end,’ he said.
‘Or die in the attempt,’ Llinos said softly.
It was a strange almost uneasy feeling working in the huge buildings that sprawled along the banks of the river Tawe. The potting house was much larger than she had expected. It hummed with the sound of turning wheels and the slap of clay upon wood.
Llinos was crouched beside the fly wheel, looking at the boots of the potter, noting with boredom that one of his laces was untied. Her mind drifted, as it always did, to thoughts of Joe. Why had he not come to see her? Was he angry at her disobeying her father?
‘Hold the wheel!’ Billy Sullivan’s voice drifted down to her and she guessed he was cutting another pot from its base. Impulsively, she leaned forward and tied his laces together and sank back on her haunches.
She heard the creak of his chair as he rose and then before her startled eyes, she saw him crash to the floor.
Other booted feet came into her line of vision and, aghast at what she had done, Llinos peered round the wheel to see if the potter was all right.
‘Bashed his head,’ a voice said gruffly. ‘Get some water, throw it into his face, he’ll be right as rain in no time.’
To her relief, Llinos saw the potter open his eyes and sit up. ‘Duw, what happened?’
‘You fell, man, take a bit more water with your ale, I would.’
‘Wasn’t my fault,’ the potter struggled to rise. ‘Hell and damnation, my boot laces are tied together!’
Llinos was grasped by the collar and dragged forward. ‘What do you think you were doing, girl?’ the potter said.
‘I’m sorry, I only meant it as a joke.’
‘A joke that nearly cost me my brains, you half-wit!’
‘All right, take it easy, Billy.’ Binnie came forward. ‘It was only a bit of fun, man. Llinos didn’t mean any harm.’
‘I don’t know about that, I could have broke my bloody neck!’
‘I’m sorry, it was a stupid thing to do,’ Llinos said. The crowd of men parted and a man in high boots, well-cut coat and tall hat appeared before her.
‘What on earth is going on?’
‘Fool of a girl tripped Billy up. Tied his laces together, thought it was a joke, she did.’
‘Come here. What’s your name?’
‘Llinos, Mr Morton-Edwards, sir.’
‘Savage’s daughter, eh?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘I thought so. You forgot to curtsy, child.’
Llinos felt humiliated as she curtsied to Mr Morton-Edwards. Did he have to come into the pottery right at this moment?
‘Come with me, girl.’ Morton-Edwards strode away and Billy gave her a push.
‘Don’t stand there catching flies, girl, do as the boss man says.’
Llinos hurried to catch up with Mr Morton-Edwards, following him out of the building and into the cold splash of sunshine outside.
He kept walking without glancing back at her until he reached the elegant red-brick building which housed the offices. It was only then that he looked at her.
‘Go wash your hands and then come into that room there.’ He pointed to a polished oak door and as Llinos bobbed another curtsy, he disappeared inside.
It took her a few minutes to find a place where she could wash. The room was long and tiled in cold black and white and some basins stood on a long shelf that ran the length of the room and beside each basin was a jug of water.
She removed her apron and left it hanging from a hook on the shelf before locating the room Mr Morton-Edwards had indicated.
‘Come here, let me look more closely at you.’ She stood before him and he regarded her steadily. He reached out to tip up her chin and she moved a pace backwards.
‘A haughty little thing, aren’t you?’
She felt her colour rise. ‘Sorry, sir.’
‘That’s all to the good,’ he said, nodding his head. ‘Sluts there are aplenty, good girls are more difficult to find.’ He leaned back in his chair and regarded her steadily.
‘You are bored turning the fly wheel.’ It was a statement. She nodded her head.
‘Why do it then?’
‘I need to earn a living like everyone else.’
‘You are too well-spoken to fit in with the peasant stock. What does your father have to say about you working for me, no
t pleased, eh?’
‘I suppose not.’
‘You can read and write and do figures, of course?’
‘Of course.’
‘You have not answered my question. Your father, what does he think of you coming here?’
She was silent, regarding him with suspicion. She remembered with a chill feeling Eynon’s warning about his father’s harem.
‘Well I won’t probe into your business any more. But tell me, what other skills do you have?’ He smiled as she looked puzzled. ‘It’s not a trick question, Llinos. I am not looking to steal your virtue, whatever you might have heard to the contrary.’
She relaxed a little. She could tell by the upturn of Mr Morton-Edwards’ mouth that he possessed a sense of humour.
‘Well, I can pot, glaze, paint, indeed I can do almost anything involving the making of pottery.’
He nodded. ‘I thought so. Trust Savage to make use of his own flesh and blood in any way he can.’ He leaned back in his chair. ‘My son has had every advantage, the only time he came into the sheds was when he wanted a little fun. What he learned here was what he wanted to learn, but I would never think of expecting him to do menial tasks. He’s a delicate boy but then you know that, you and he are friends, I understand?’
She felt suddenly hot. Embarrassed, she looked down at her hands. Clay still clung under her nails and self-consciously she picked at it. ‘Yes, we are very good friends,’ she said defensively.
‘Good, my son needs friends.’ He sat up straighter. ‘I understand you have been staying with my son since you left home.’
‘You are very well-informed, Mr Morton-Edwards.’
‘Where my only child is concerned I make it my business to be well-informed. How did you find him? Is he well?’
Llinos smiled. ‘He is very well. He has asked me to marry him.’
Morton-Edwards’ eyelashes flickered momentarily as he digested her words. ‘And you obviously declined, preferring to work at a menial task rather than be the wife of such an ill-favoured man.’ His voice revealed much. He was bitter where his son was concerned.
‘I love Eynon,’ she said, ‘and I would be honoured to be his wife, but I don’t love him in that way. He is kind and truthful and caring. Physical strength is not everything.’
After a moment Mr Morton-Edwards nodded. ‘I see.’ He sat up straighter. ‘Perhaps in time you will grow to love him, I can only hope so. A good woman would make a man of him. Well, we shall talk no more about it.’
He took out his pipe and pushed a wedge of tobacco into it. ‘Back to business. I hate to see a young lady of obvious breeding and talent wasting both those things turning a fly wheel. What would you like to do, Llinos?’
‘I enjoy most of the jobs necessary for making pots but now, here in your pottery, I would love to learn about the new porcelain you are making.’
‘I see. Go on.’
‘I am fascinated by the excellence of the few pieces I’ve seen but it still needs some work,’ Llinos said. ‘I’m sure that in a few more months you will be producing the best porcelain in the world.’
‘Ah, praise indeed.’ He hesitated for a moment and then looked up at her. ‘Very well, you shall work with Mr Wright. He is a very gifted man, though I am probably telling you something you already know?’
‘I know of Mr Wright’s work, he not only creates porcelain bodies but he paints exquisitely, too. I admire him very much, I would be honoured to work with him.’
‘But you will not go running back to your father’s pottery and tell him of my designs and use them on the earthenware products, would you?’
Llinos shook her head. She thought of the bold colours and the strong patterns of the Indian designs used at the Savage Pottery and smiled.
‘Oh, no, my father is well served with his own patterns.’
‘Very well. One more thing, are you happy sharing a house with some of my other workers or would you like a room in my house as befits a lady of your station?’
‘I would prefer to keep to the arrangements already made to share with the other girls,’ she said carefully. Mr Morton-Edwards smiled.
‘I do understand, you need to be independent, but if you change your mind don’t hesitate to tell me.’
As she left his room, she was smiling. Her new employer was not half the devil she had been led to believe him to be. He was kind, fatherly and he had a keen sense of humour. Mr Morton-Edwards was a man she could grow to like and admire.
Later, as evening was beginning to fold the hills in shadow, Llinos walked towards the top of Poppets Hill. She was breathless by the time she crested the peak. Once there, she stood admiring the vista of the town spread out before her. Beyond was the curving bay, the sea darkened now under the greyness of the sky.
‘Beautiful.’ The voice was so close that, for a moment, Llinos thought she had imagined it. Her heart began to beat so rapidly she found it difficult to breathe. She spun round, her eyes glowing.
‘Joe. Oh, Joe, you’ve come to find me.’
She was tinglingly aware of him standing beside her. He towered over her, his hair flowing around his strong features. His eyes were shadowed, his expression hidden from her.
She had to control the urge to throw herself into his arms. ‘Your father, how is he?’
‘He died shortly after I arrived at his home.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘No need to be sorry, it was his time.’
‘Oh, Joe.’ She made a move towards him, she was so very conscious of the scent of him. ‘Joe . . . I . . .’ He turned fractionally away from her and her hands clenched together in frustration.
‘Joe! Why do you treat me like this? You know how I feel about you. One minute you are kissing me and the next you are barely polite.’
His eyes gleamed for a moment. She had the feeling he was laughing at her. ‘You know something, Llinos? You should not be here alone with me, it is not seemly for a young lady of breeding.’
‘You forget,’ she said without looking at him, ‘I am no longer Llinos Savage, daughter of a pottery owner, but a humble working girl.’
‘Don’t working girls behave properly then?’
‘Some of them do, Joe. But you know that. You’re teasing me.’
‘Yes I am. But I’ll be serious. Why did you run away from your father, Llinos?’
‘You probably heard from him why I ran away, why ask me?’
‘He’s sick and in pain. Don’t be so hard and unforgiving. He needs you.’
Llinos looked at him sharply, trying to read his expression, but it was too dark now to see his face.
‘He’s hard and unforgiving to me, trying to force me to go away to school.’
‘It’s for your own good. Look, Llinos, he loves you but he’s had no opportunity to be a father to you until now, all he wants is to do the very best for his child, is that so wrong? At least speak to him, Llinos, you owe him that much.’
‘I will speak to my father, but I will not be sent away to school whatever he says.’
‘Our lives follow a course just as the river does. We have very little say in the larger scheme of things.’
Llinos was suddenly irritated. ‘Spare me the homespun philosophy, Joe. I’m not going away so save your breath.’ Frustration gripped her. She wanted Joe, wanted him to lay her down in the sweet grass and make her a woman, his woman.
‘You are too damned honourable for your own good, do you know that, Joe?’
‘Swearing oaths is not very ladylike.’ Joe was laughing openly at her now and that infuriated her.
‘I want you, Joe, and I will have you.’
She heard him sigh into the darkness. ‘If we were together now, how long would it last? We both have lives to live, destinies to fulfil.’
‘I do not subscribe to your beliefs in the iron hand of fate. We make our own fortunes, we shape our own destiny.’
‘I’m not arguing. Come on, I shall see you home to wherever it is you are lodging.’
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‘To hell with you!’
She was running away from him then, leaping over uneven clumps of grass, taking the risk of falling down the steep sloping hill. If she did not put as much distance between herself and Joe as possible, she would be begging him to hold her in his arms and make love to her.
By the time she reached the lodging house in Morton-Edwards Street, she was breathless. Martha Reeves was there to supervise the girls and she looked reprovingly at Llinos with her windblown hair and her bonnet bouncing from its ribbons.
‘I suggest you go up and tidy yourself before supper,’ Martha said.
Llinos hurried upstairs to a small attic room. It was sparsely furnished with only a table and two beds. A high window let in a pale diffused light. Kicking off her shoes, she curled up on top of the blankets and squeezed her eyes tightly shut. But nothing would take away the image of Joe, his hair blowing in the breeze, his eyes so blue looking into hers.
He was the man she wanted more than anything in the world and all he did was to laugh at her. She thumped her fist against the pillow.
‘I’ll show you, Joe, just you wait.’ But quite what she was going to show him, she did not know.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
‘This girl, Savage’s daughter, she might be of use to me.’ Philip Morton-Edwards, glass in hand, stood before the ornate fireplace.
Estelle looked up at him. ‘In what way?’ She was impatient with her husband; sometimes he did not have the wit he was born with. But she was a second wife, she needed to handle her husband with care. She had not yet produced a son, one who would take the place of the namby-pamby boy produced by the first Mrs Morton-Edwards.
‘I don’t see how a chit of a girl born of some lowly tradesperson could possibly be of use to us.’
Her husband’s sardonic gaze disconcerted her for a moment. Had she spoken too forcefully? Philip did not like women to be too forceful.
He held out his glass and dutifully she put down her embroidery and freshened his drink. He swallowed it in one gulp.
‘You are an ignorant woman, do you know that? Savage is not a lowly tradesperson, he has a good name hereabouts. Apart from which, the man is some kind of war hero. Mark my words, it does not do to underestimate your opposition.’
