‘It’s serious, Connie. I didn’t want you to start trading tomorrow until I sorted it.’
She opened the door. ‘Go into the office. I’ll be down as soon as I’ve put some clothes on.’
Lloyd sat in the chair behind the desk, flicked through the ledger he had left there, rose and went to the fireplace. Leaning on the mantelpiece, he stared down at the dying embers of the fire. Unable to stay still, he paced uneasily from the hearthrug to the window and back.
‘There isn’t really an error in the accounts, is there?’ Connie was in the doorway, her long dark hair hanging loose, framing her face, a navy blue woollen robe belted tightly at her waist.
‘No,’ he answered quietly.
She closed the door and stepped into the room. ‘Something’s happened to you and, by that look on your face, I’d say it’s happened with another woman.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I’ve been waiting for you to say something ever since the bruises faded on that pretty face of hers, Lloyd.’
‘It was that obvious?’
‘I’ve never seen you together, but from the way you have been talking about her, or rather refusing to talk about her, I guessed.’ She was unable to keep the bitterness from her voice.
‘I didn’t know until tonight.’
‘You made love to her?’ She sat on the sofa and linked her hands around her knees, holding herself rigidly upright so he wouldn’t see her trembling. From the fixed expression on his face she realised that no amount of angry raving on her part would have the slightest impact on his resolution. The fact that he was visiting her openly, and at this hour of the night spoke volumes for his state of mind. Steeling herself, she muttered, ‘I wish you well, Lloyd.’
‘You mean that?’ He stared at her.
‘I do,’ she replied insincerely, forcing a smile. ‘We’ve been good friends. Good, loving friends. Please, let it remain that way.’
‘Without the loving, Connie,’ he warned. ‘There can never be any more of that.’
‘Pity. That, I’m going to miss. You were exceptionally good at it, and believe me, I’m an expert judge.’
‘You never told me.’
‘You were so considerate and anxious to please I didn’t want you to get overconfident. She’s a lucky girl, Lloyd, and I’ll tell her so the next time I meet her.’
‘Please don’t.’
‘You haven’t told her that you love her?’
He went to the door. ‘If you want me to carry on doing your books, I’ll do them at home.’
‘I’d prefer to hire a bookkeeper.’
‘It might be for the best.’
‘Go.’ Hysteria welled within her and she rose to her feet, pushing him away from her. ‘Go, before you have me crying. You know how I hate sentimentality.’
After he left, she heard someone lock and bolt the front door. A draught set the fire flickering again, and she looked to the door. Annie was standing behind her, her hair in rags, her red flannel robe wound tightly around her thin frame.
‘It’s finally over between you then.’
‘It would appear so.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘So am I, Annie.’
‘What are you going to do?’ Annie wrapped her arm around Connie and helped her up the stairs.
‘Do? I’ll run the shop as I have always done, look after Tonia –’
‘I didn’t mean that and you know it.’ Annie smoothed the rumpled bedclothes and helped Connie into bed. ‘You’re a warm-blooded, passionate woman.’
‘There’s always old Mr Jones across the street.’ Connie’s attempt at a joke fell flat.
‘He’s ninety if he’s a day. One minute with you and he’ll be in his coffin.’ Annie removed her robe and climbed into bed beside her. ‘Do you want me to rub you down with lavender oil?’
‘Please.’ Connie sat up, pulled off her nightdress and lay flat on her stomach.
As Annie’s hands caressed the soft skin on her back and shoulders, Connie allowed her first tears to fall. In her heart she had always known that one day Lloyd would walk away from her and never come back. But she hadn’t anticipated just how much it would hurt.
‘You looked tired this morning, Sali,’ Joey commented, as she set his breakfast in front of him. ‘What’s the matter, couldn’t you sleep?’
‘I slept well.’ She evinced a sudden interest in the bacon she was frying to avoid looking at Lloyd who walked into the kitchen as if the morning were no different from any other.
‘Christmas Eve, Harry.’ Victor cut his bread and butter into soldiers, dunked one in egg yolk and handed it to the boy. ‘Tonight we hang up our stockings and hope that Father Christmas will bring us what we want.’
Joey cut into the sausages Sali had piled on his plate. ‘What do you want, Harry?’
‘Sweets,’ Harry suggested hopefully.
‘And a toy?’ Joey asked.
‘Will I get a toy, Mam?’ Harry’s eyes widened.
‘You’ll have to wait and see,’ she murmured.
‘Joey and I ran into Father Kelly last night, and guess what?’ Victor addressed his father. ‘Joey offered to man the sweet stall at the Christmas bazaar tonight.’
‘Who’s the girl manning it with him?’ Billy Evans asked.
‘Katie Kavanagh.’ Joey grinned triumphantly.
‘Gorgeous Katie with the brown curly hair,’ Victor elaborated.
‘Remind me to call in and warn Mrs Kavanagh about our Joey on the way home from work,’ Mr Evans remarked.
‘Why don’t you and Harry come to the bazaar with us, Sali?’ Victor asked. ‘There’ll be lots of stalls and a bran tub for the children. Rumour has it that Father Christmas may even call in before he does his rounds.’
‘Father Christmas!’
Sali was certain that the only Father Christmas Harry had ever seen was in picture books, but that didn’t stop him from getting excited every time his name was mentioned.
‘That’s a good idea, we’ll all go to the Christmas Bazaar,’ Lloyd said quietly.
Sali knew Lloyd was looking at her, but she kept her eyes averted.
‘You boys can go if you like.’ Billy sat back in his chair and Sali poured his tea. ‘But you can count me out. I’ve sworn never to set foot in a church again.’
‘It’s in the church hall, Dad,’ Victor protested.
‘Same difference.’
‘Harry and I aren’t Catholic.’ It was as much as Sali could do to remain in the same room as Lloyd. She couldn’t bear the thought of going out in public with him.
‘That won’t bother Father Kelly any more than Dad and Lloyd’s Marxism,’ Victor said cheerfully. ‘You’ll like Father Kelly, Sali; he has a wonderful sense of Irish humour. Thank you, that breakfast was just what I needed to set me up for the last shift before a two-day holiday. It’s very considerate of Christmas to fall on a Saturday this year.’
‘Don’t wear yourself out, girl.’ Billy eyed Sali as he handed her his empty plate. ‘Christmas is only one day. You want to be in a fit state to enjoy it. Most of the work is done, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, Mr Evans.’
‘So, you’ve only the usual housework to do today.’
‘Apart from preparing the goose for tomorrow, Mr Evans, and that won’t take me long.’
‘Leave it to Victor. He’s a dab hand at plucking geese.’
‘I really don’t mind doing it.’
‘If you must.’ She saw him glance back at her as he opened the door to the basement stairs. Joey and Victor followed, but Lloyd hung back. He touched her hand as he handed her his plate and she jumped as if she’d been scalded. The plate fell and shattered on the flagstone floor.
‘Are you all right?’ he said solicitously.
She bent down to pick up the pieces. ‘Yes.’ She shrugged off his hand as he tried to help her to her feet.
‘You look exhausted. My father’s right; you should take it easy today.’
‘Lloyd, we’re goin
g,’ Mr Evans shouted impatiently from the basement.
‘I’m coming. Bye, Sali.’ He waited a few seconds. She turned her back to him and he walked away.
Chapter Nineteen
Ignoring Mr Evans and Lloyd’s advice to rest, Sali threw herself into the housework, working at an even faster pace than usual. While Harry played, engrossed with the fort and toy soldiers, she peeled enough potatoes and vegetables to last until Monday and made apple stuffing for the goose, sage and onion for the leg of pork, and chestnut for the chicken. She plucked, stuffed and trussed the goose ready for the pan, scored the rind of the leg of pork, and stuffed the knuckle before putting it in the oven. She made a saucepan full of apple sauce that would accompany both the pork and the goose, and cleaned the kitchen thoroughly.
Her mind a turmoil of guilt, shame and mortification, she ran up and down the stairs, making the beds and cleaning every corner of the house, but despite all the energy she expended scrubbing, sweeping and polishing, she could not erase the memory of what she had done with Lloyd the evening before. She knew that what had happened was as much her fault as his, if not more so. She had not been passive as she had been when Mansel had made love to her, or an unwilling victim as she had been with her uncle and Owen. She had not only accepted Lloyd’s caresses, but returned them with a passion he had aroused, and she had not made the slightest attempt to control.
When she finished in the house, she scoured the front doorstep and polished it with a stone, scrubbed the pavement outside and the path in the back garden. An hour before the men were expected home, she remembered the pullovers that Megan had brought in the day before. The sections were so beautifully knitted it didn’t take her long to sew them up. Warning Harry to stay well away from her and the fire, she opened the hob, set two irons on to heat and brought out the thick ironing cloth to cover the table. Wringing a towel in cold water she laid the pullovers out carefully, covered them with the damp towel, and pressed them into shape.
Mrs Evans had chosen the colours well. A mid-blue that stopped just short of being too bright for Joey, a deep rust for Victor, which would go well with his moleskin trousers, a rich green for Lloyd to complement both his dark good looks and subdued taste in clothes, and a serviceable brown for Mr Evans.
When she finished, she set the water buckets on the hobs to boil, the irons on the back of the stove to cool and wrapped the finished pullovers in the paper and string Mrs Evans had used, leaving the original labels. Harry followed her into the parlour and watched as she placed the parcels under the tree.
‘I thought Father Christmas brought the presents.’
‘His sleigh isn’t big enough to bring them for grownups as well as children, darling.’ She ruffled his hair. ‘Everyone will be home soon. Will you set the table for me?’
‘And then I can go with Joey and Victor to see Father Christmas?’
‘Yes, you can.’ Her heart sank. Harry had grown so fond of Joey and Victor she only hoped that they could continue to live with the Evanses after Lloyd had carried out his threat to talk to her.
‘That’s a fine piece of pork, Victor. Iorwerth did you proud,’ Billy Evans said, as Sali wrapped the remains of the leg in a scalded cloth and placed it in the pantry.
‘It was good,’ Victor agreed, ‘and there’s plenty left for sandwiches tonight. Let’s hope the goose is the same quality.’
Billy finished his blackberry jam roly-poly and custard. ‘That parlour will be freezing tomorrow if the fire isn’t lit tonight to warm the room.’
‘I’ll do it, Dad,’ Victor offered.
‘You finish your meal. I’ll see to it.’ Billy left the kitchen and closed the door to keep the heat in the room. Seconds later he yelled, ‘Sali.’
‘That sounds ominous.’ Joey divided the last of the jam roly-poly between himself and Victor.
Lloyd looked at Sali. ‘Is something wrong?’
She opened the door without answering him and went into the parlour. Mr Evans was sitting on the sofa, an unopened parcel on his lap. He was holding the label that his wife had written between his fingers. ‘Where did these come from?’
‘Megan brought them around yesterday, Mr Evans.’ Realising he was not only shocked, but angry, she explained how Megan had forgotten about them and she had made the pullovers up that day.
‘And you thought you’d give them to us as Christmas presents?’
‘Not me, Mr Evans.’ She was horrified he should even think such a thing. ‘Mrs Evans put a great deal of work into those pullovers. It seemed a pity to waste the effort she made.’
‘You should have told me about them last night.’
‘Yes, Mr Evans, I should have. I’m sorry. I realise that now ... it’s just ...’
‘What, girl?’ he broke in impatiently.
‘If my father had put that much work into making something for me before he died, I would have liked to have had it as a last present from him. I really am sorry if I offended you, I didn’t think ...’
He cut her apology short by gathering all four parcels and leaving the room. Moments later she heard him walk in and out of his downstairs bedroom. The front door banged shut behind him and she returned to the kitchen.
‘I take it Dad’s gone to the County Club?’ Joey asked.
‘He didn’t say.’ She began to clear the table.
‘Time I was off.’ Joey left the table and picked up the bottle of cologne from the window sill.
‘Put any more of that stuff on and Katie Kavanagh will be fainting over the sweets,’ Victor joked.
‘You ready to come, Sali, Lloyd?’ Joey asked, ignoring Victor.
‘I have to wash the dishes.’
‘I’ll give you a hand,’ Victor offered.
‘I’ve no doubt Sali has a couple of other things to do for tomorrow and I have to write a letter to Mr Richards,’ Lloyd interrupted. ‘Why don’t the two of you take Harry and go on ahead and we’ll join you in half an hour or so.’
‘That’s a good idea.’ Joey lifted Harry down from his chair. ‘Let’s get your cap and coat from the hall.’
‘Just can’t wait to be with Katie, can you?’ Victor teased.
‘Here’s sixpence for Harry in case he sees anything he wants.’ Sali pushed it into Victor’s pocket before he could protest. ‘And don’t forget to take Harry to the ty bach before you go.’
‘We won’t.’ Victor suspected that his father had said something to upset Sali, but decided that if she had wanted to tell them about it, she would have. ‘See you later,’ he said, as Joey handed him his coat and cap and Harry ran ahead of them down to the basement.
Silence closed over the kitchen, dense and suffocating. Acutely aware of Lloyd’s presence, Sali began to rinse the dishes under the pump and stack them in readiness for washing. She took her time over cleaning each one, dreading the moment when she would have to turn to the stove and pick up the bucket of water she had set to boil because it would mean moving closer to the table where Lloyd was sitting.
As she rinsed the last dinner plate on the pile, it was taken from her. She knew that Lloyd was standing behind her, but she didn’t turn her head.
‘We have to talk.’ He laid the plate on top of the others.
‘I’m sorry –’
‘What for, Sali?’
‘For what happened yesterday, for behaving like a ...’ She couldn’t bring herself to say ‘whore’ because it was what Owen had constantly called her. ‘For behaving so badly.’
He took her hands into his and led her to the easy chair. Pushing her gently into it, he pulled a kitchen chair from the table and sat facing her. ‘If anyone behaved badly it was me. I ...’ he gave her a wry smile, ‘was somewhat carried away. Hardly surprising after walking in on you the way I did, and seeing you standing there looking very beautiful and desirable.’
‘Now I know you’re making fun of me.’ She tried to leave the chair but he blocked her path, forcing her to sit back down.
‘I won’t allow you
to leave until we have talked this out. And you are extremely beautiful and desirable. So beautiful, you even make short hair look good.’
‘I am ugly ... I have scars ...’
‘You had a husband who was a brute and after seeing what he did to your back, if I ever have the displeasure of meeting him I won’t be responsible for my actions.’
‘You knew he beat me.’
‘I knew he beat you once, from the state of your face when you first came here. But I also heard that you had married him without telling him you were carrying another man’s child.’
‘Owen knew about Harry before he married me; my uncle told him. They struck a bargain; my dowry in exchange for Owen Bull’s name.’
‘The three thousand pounds your father left you?’
She forced herself to meet his steadfast, probing gaze. ‘Didn’t your father tell you what I told him the day he allowed me to bring Harry here?’
‘When you get to know my father better, you’ll realise that he never tells anyone anything that isn’t their business. And he would regard anything you told him about your past as your business and no one else’s.’
Haltingly, hesitantly, she told Lloyd everything she had told his father and more. How she had allowed Mansel to make love to her before their wedding and her despair and bewilderment at his disappearance. Her horror at finding herself pregnant, and the choice her uncle had forced on her between the workhouse and marriage to Owen Bull. How Morgan Davies had raped her the night before she left Danygraig House. The beatings and sexual humiliation Owen had inflicted on her. The tyrannical regime her husband had imposed and how he beat and abused not only her, but also his brother and sister. And finally how Iestyn had died during that last terrible night in Mill Street.
‘Why didn’t you leave Owen Bull earlier?’ Lloyd questioned, when she finally fell silent.
‘Because I had no money and nowhere to go.’
‘You had your aunt. From what she said when I met her, she would have done anything to help you.’
‘Owen threatened to harm her if I went to her, and he warned his brother and sister that he’d punish them if they allowed me to leave the house or speak to anyone.’ She met his gaze and saw that his eyes were as dark as Joey’s, only softer, more tender. ‘And he would have, Lloyd. I can’t prove it but I am convinced that Owen pushed his brother down the stairs because he was trying to protect Harry and me. And Owen went to my aunt’s when I was in the infirmary to look for Harry and his sister. The footman was so afraid of what he’d do, he called the police.’
Beggars and Choosers Page 33
