by Iris Gower
‘The station is only half built.’ Dafydd leaned forward in his chair. ‘I can’t see it being ready in time.’ His eyes shone with interest. ‘I understand Brunel himself will be on the first train into Swansea. Now, there’s a man I admire.’
‘A fine engineer,’ Eynon nodded, ‘but the broad-gauge line will never take off. The narrow tracks will win through.’
‘Enough of this, gentlemen!’ Jayne rapped her knife on the table. ‘Just wait until the ladies have withdrawn before you talk business, if you please.’
Dafydd seemed amused at his wife’s air of authority and made her a mock bow. ‘Quite right, Jayne. We are being very rude and I, for one, offer my heartfelt apology.’
Llinos attempted to enter into the good-natured laughter that followed. Jayne was smiling at her husband and then, tenderly, she touched his hair, smoothing it down over his collar.
Llinos knew she was wrong to covet another woman’s husband, but Dafydd had been her love in the past. Under the table she pressed her hands together to stop them shaking.
At last, the meal was over and Jayne rose, which was the signal for the ladies to retire to the drawing room. Llinos seated herself near the windows, an outsider in the room full of gossiping women. She listened half-heartedly to the trivial discussion about hats and gowns and the dreadful cost of hiring servants. What narrow lives these women led.
‘Aunt Llinos,’ Jayne’s voice roused her from her thoughts, ‘why are you so quiet? Do you miss your husband and son?’
Every eye turned in her direction and Llinos tried to speak lightly. ‘Of course I do, but they are in the great plains of America having a fine adventure.’
‘Well, you can’t begrudge them that, can you?’ Jayne’s eyes were fixed on her.
‘Of course I don’t. I like to see them both happy.’
‘I think you keep quite a few people happy.’ Jayne’s words rang with spite. ‘Especially the menfolk.’
Laughter rippled through the room and colour rose in Llinos’s cheeks. She stared at Jayne, and the girl had the grace to look away.
‘Other women’s husbands.’ The whisper from one lady was loud enough to be heard by everyone in the room. Llinos stood up and smiled at them disdainfully.
‘When men have such dull wives who can only talk about servants and other trivia, it’s no wonder their husbands seek diversion in more amusing company.’
Jayne sat back in her chair in command of herself. ‘You might once have enjoyed these men you talk about but your time is past now, Llinos. You are an old woman.’
‘Is that why your husband sought me out only the other day, Jayne?’ As soon as the words were spoken Llinos regretted them. Jayne had drunk a little too much wine but she did not deserve to be shamed in front of her guests.
She moved towards the door, but Jayne was there before her, barring her way. ‘You’re lying, admit it! You’re making it up about Dafydd wanting you, aren’t you?’
The uncertainty in the girl’s voice touched a chord in Llinos. ‘I might have misunderstood his intentions,’ she said slowly. ‘Perhaps Dafydd was merely being kind to an old lady.’ Her voice was edged with sarcasm in spite of her pity for the wretched look on Jayne’s face.
‘I hate you, Llinos!’ Jayne said. Her voice rose. ‘You’re a harlot and you should not be allowed to mix in polite society. I think it’s time you left. Don’t come back here.’ She was shouting now. Suddenly the door opened and Eynon was standing there, his face white. ‘Is this a meeting of fishwives?’
Llinos wanted to hide. ‘I’m sorry, Eynon. It was a mistake for me to come here tonight.’
‘Llinos, what has happened? What was all the shouting about?’ Dafydd, followed by the other men, came into the room.
Jayne turned on him. ‘This – this harlot tells me you’ve been making improper advances to her. Is it true, Dafydd?’
He looked at Llinos, his eyes guarded. ‘I’m sure there has been some misunderstanding. Llinos is not a lady to throw about such accusations lightly.’
‘Ask the other ladies, if you don’t believe me.’ Jayne was beside herself. ‘There is no misunderstanding, Dafydd. You have slept with her and you still want her.’
‘I married you, Jayne,’ Dafydd said sternly, ‘and I have been faithful to my marriage vows. Now, enough of this gossip. I’m ashamed to hear it in front of your father’s guests and I will not tolerate it any longer.’
He turned to Eynon. ‘I’m sorry there has been a scene, but you brought together the wrong people this evening.’
Eynon nodded slowly. ‘You’re right. Perhaps you will all collect your belongings, all of you, and leave. No, not you, Martin, or you, Llinos. I want you to stay.’ He looked at the other guests. ‘These people,’ he gestured at Llinos and Martin, ‘are my true friends, and I want to be alone with them. Jayne, you must sort out your problems with your husband in private, like a lady.’
Dafydd cast one last look at Llinos before he led his wife through the large ornate doors into the darkness. When the room had cleared, Llinos sank on to the sofa. ‘I’m sorry, Eynon. I shouldn’t have allowed matters to get out of hand.’ She felt the hot tears slip between her fingers. ‘Jayne was rude and the other women thought it funny, but I was equally to blame because I’m older and should be wiser.’
‘There, there, Llinos, cry it all out.’ Martin put his arm around her. ‘Let the old gossips have their day. Not one of them is fit to clean your boots so forget their spiteful remarks.’
‘You must stay here tonight,’ Eynon said. ‘I’m going to have the maid put a hot stone in one of the beds. You can’t go home like this.’
‘No,’ Llinos said. ‘I must go home – I have a young son and I want to be with him.’
‘Very well. Martin and I will take you in my carriage and your groom can follow us. I want to see you safely indoors or I won’t rest tonight.’
‘Thank you for being so kind.’ Llinos dabbed at her eyes with a scrap of lace handkerchief. ‘I’m sorry I offended your daughter.’
Eynon took her hands and drew her to her feet. ‘I know what a shrew Jayne can be, and I know you well enough to understand your anger. She must have hurt you badly. Come, now, let’s get you home.’
As she sat in the carriage with Eynon at one side of her and Martin at the other, Llinos thought over the events of the past hours. She should have kept her anger and jealousy to herself. She had hurt Jayne, and what about Dafydd? What did he think of it all? She had not made his life any easier. Well, she was too bone weary to worry about any of it now when all she wanted to do was climb into bed and sleep. Tomorrow she would write a letter apologizing to Jayne but now she must try to put the incident out of her mind. That was hard to do, though, and the morning light was creeping into the room when at last Llinos fell asleep.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Rhiannon was waiting for Bull to come home. That was all she seemed to do these days. It was only a matter of time before he left her but she hoped he would stay until the work on the line into Swansea was finished. Then she would have a few more months to think about her future.
She parted the faded curtains and stared out through the aperture that served as a window. A light drizzle of rain was misting the hills that rose above the tracks, which gleamed like silver ribbons running away into the distance. Soon the iron monster they called a train would race through the cut in the hills, carrying dignitaries from town to town. Rhiannon had seen it all before: she had been a camp follower since she was fifteen.
She let the curtains drop and returned to sit near the fire, shivering as the damp seemed to penetrate her bones. How wonderful it must be to live in a house with strong stone walls and a proper roof to keep out the rain.
Once, she had lived in a house. She had had a mother then, a widow who had lost her husband to the Liverpool and Manchester line. Rhiannon’s home was not much, just two rented rooms, but it had seemed perfect to her. A tenant lived downstairs and kept chickens in the tiny back g
arden. If the landlord knew he turned a blind eye, and Rhiannon woke every morning to the raucous crowing of the cockerel.
Once the lodger, who was called Mr Crow, tried to explain to Rhiannon how the chickens’ eggs were fertilized but Rhiannon thought that when the noisy cockerel fluttered onto the back of one of the hens he was intent on hurting her, judging by the screeching that ensued.
Then, one day, Mr Crow demonstrated to Rhiannon how humankind produced young, and she lost her virginity among the stench of feathers and potato peelings. When her mother died soon afterwards Rhiannon, alone in the world, could scarcely imagine how she might live. She left the town, sure that soon she must produce a child. That did not happen, but by the time she knew she was not expecting one, Rhiannon was too far into the trade of prostitution to go home. She had kind men and she had wasters, but all of them wanted only one thing of her: that she be willing to accommodate them when they came home drunk on pay day. For that she was fed and clothed, albeit haphazardly, and given a roof of sorts over her head.
It was when Rhiannon followed the railway camps into South Wales that she met Bull Beynon. The first time she set eyes on him she knew that he was a man of quality. It was Bull who had stood up for her against the O’Connor boys: he had taken her into his own hut and looked after her ever since. She owed Bull Beynon a great deal, and he was the only man with whom she had ever fallen in love.
Now she sat up, listening. He was coming – she would recognize his step anywhere. She heard his voice outside, close to the open window of the hut. There was another voice too, Seth O’Connor’s, and they were talking about a woman, Katie Cullen. Rhiannon moved closer to the window.
‘So, you’ve got two women on the go now, then.’ Seth sounded amused. ‘The lovely respectable Katie Cullen and your doxy to warm your bed at night. Lucky sod.’
There was a pain in Rhiannon’s chest. Bull was talking now and she held her breath, wondering if he would deny it. ‘Keep your nose out of my business, Seth, do you understand?’
‘Aye – but if a man can’t bed an innocent virgin like Katie I suppose Rhiannon would come in handy.’
Bull came in, his hair glistening with tiny beads of moisture. He was so clean, so handsome. How could she ever live without him?
‘Bull, you’re late, you must be starved.’ She forced a note of cheeriness into her voice as she pushed the pot of stew over the fire. The smell of mutton filled the small hut and Bull sniffed appreciatively. He took off his topcoat, and Rhiannon felt him watching her as she broke large chunks off the loaf.
‘Know me next time?’ she said lightly.
He raised his eyebrows and drew up his chair to the rickety table. ‘Can’t a man look at a comely wench these days, then?’
‘I hope you’re going to do a deal more than look, laddie.’ She felt warmed inside with the knowledge that Bull desired her. ‘I’m ready for a tumble myself.’
She began to unbutton her bodice but Bull held up his hand. ‘Let’s eat first, love.’
She hid her disappointment and ladled out the stew. ‘Good bit of mutton, this,’ she said. ‘Got it this morning from the market, and the veg was all fresh in from the farms. Didn’t cost a fortune either.’
‘You’re a thrifty girl, Rhiannon, I’ll give you that.’
‘Compliments are all fine and good, but I hope you’re going to give me more than words when we finish our food.’ It was the one hold she had over him, his desire for her, and that was still there: she could see it in his eyes.
‘I have to go out later.’ Bull dipped bread into the stew. ‘There’s a meeting in town tonight – there’s talk about the work not coming up to scratch so I’ll have to be there to speak up for the navvies. They can’t afford to be laid off.’
‘Can I come?’ She heard the entreaty in her own voice and hated herself for her weakness, but Bull was slipping away from her.
‘It wouldn’t be right. Lots of ladies from town are going along, hoping for a look at the great man himself.’
‘And the good women would object to a slut like me being there, is that it, Bull?’
‘You know as well as I do what they have to say about the likes of us. There’s no good to come of flouting our ways under their noses, you must see that.’
‘I suppose Katie Cullen will be there?’ The lash of jealousy was so painful that Rhiannon could hardly breathe.
‘What’s that to do with you?’ His voice was hostile, and Rhiannon knew she had gone too far.
‘I heard you talking to Seth O’Connor and her name spoken, that’s all.’
‘Look, Rhiannon,’ there was a warning in his voice, ‘we have an understanding, don’t we? You’re not my wife, you don’t tell me when I can come and go.’
‘Well,’ she softened her tone, ‘I’m only asking to come with you because I’m curious about the railway. It’s natural enough, isn’t it? After all, my father was a railwayman, and even before that I remember the old folk talking about Mr Trevithick who came from Cornwall to show off the iron monster he called a steam locomotive. Railways have been in my blood for as long as I can remember.’
‘Well, you can’t come to this meeting, love, sorry.’ His mind was made up and Rhiannon conceded defeat.
‘Right, but I’ll be ready for you when you come home, then.’ She ruffled his hair playfully, but her heart ached as she looked at his dear face, the familiar line of his shoulders and the strength in his thighs. Lord above, she wanted him. She wanted Bull inside her, owning her, making her feel clean and good, helping her to forget her sordid past. But he was slipping away from her.
‘I might be late so don’t go waiting up for me.’
‘Right.’ She pushed away her bowl: she was no longer hungry – at least, not for food. Hungry for love, yes, hungry for a man to put a wedding ring on her finger, most certainly, but she would never have either.
Later, she watched from the door as Bull strode off into the darkness of the night, feeling as if she was saying goodbye to him for ever.
Katie dressed quickly for the meeting. She pulled on her striped shawl then brushed back her hair so that most of it was hidden beneath her bonnet. She would see Bull tonight and though it was only two days since she had been with him she felt shy all over again. Her heart was fluttering like a butterfly inside her as she imagined being with him in a public place. This would be the first time they were seen together by Bull’s workmates and the bosses.
Katie paused to look at herself in the mirror hanging over her bed. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes bright with anticipation, but all Katie saw was a girl with an old-fashioned bonnet and a cape passed down from her mother. Would Bull be ashamed of her?
He was waiting for her at the back gate of the Big House, and she felt a thrill as she looked at him standing in the moonlight. ‘Evening, Bull,’ she said softly. ‘I’ve missed you these past days, mind.’
He smiled. ‘I’m glad about that because I’ve missed you too.’ He took her hand and tucked it under his arm. ‘Well, my lovely, let’s get to this meeting.’
The town hall was packed with people, all hoping that the great Mr Brunel would put in an appearance. In the lamplight Katie’s heart almost burst with pride: Bull had on his best suit, and his unruly hair was neatly combed. He was a handsome devil, and she was the lucky girl who was with him.
At first she scarcely listened to the discussion about the railway – a few days’ work had been lost, what did that matter? – but it seemed as though the meeting would go on for ever while the city fathers were questioning the safety of the viaduct.
When Bull got up to address the meeting, Katie sat straight in her chair, staring at him in astonishment: she had not known he was to speak.
‘The Landore Viaduct is a work of monumental importance to Swansea,’ he said. ‘We who work on the railway have ensured the structure is as sound as Mr Brunel intended it to be. Remember, it must be strong enough to carry a laden locomotive across river, road and canal. And this is no t
ime to lay men off. We must keep up with the work on the track now, whatever the weather.’ He paused, and everyone waited for him to continue. ‘This railway is a vital link in the line from Chepstow to Swansea. Swansea needs it, so if we all put our efforts and our enthusiasm into it we’ll be celebrating when summer comes and the line is in place.’
As Bull sat down a cheer went up from the men and Katie found herself holding back tears of pride. He was a real man, honest, strong but never looking for a fight the way some navvies did. She slipped her arm through his, as if to tell the world he was hers.
One or two of the ladies raised objections to the viaduct being built at all and then Jayne Buchan got to her feet. ‘Listen, ladies,’ she said, in a clear voice, ‘we must tolerate this railway – no, we must welcome it.’ Heads turned to look at her. ‘Don’t you realize the benefits it will bring?’
‘What benefits?’ another woman called.
‘We will not need to take the coach along pitted roadways when we want to travel to Cardiff, for example. We will sit in comfort on a proper seat. There will be no more waiting while horses are changed, no more delays when an animal goes lame.’ She smiled. ‘Just think, we can go shopping in Cardiff whenever we want a change from Swansea. Isn’t that worth putting up with a few minor inconveniences?’
‘It was clever of Mrs Buchan to get the women on the side of the railways,’ Bull whispered. ‘She takes after her father in matters of business.’
Shanni Morgan stood up, her red hair tumbled around her face. ‘It’s all well and good for the grand folks,’ she began, ‘but what about the people who are to live around this monster? The viaduct might be a danger to us. What if it should collapse with the weight of these locomotives? And what about the dust and grime that will shower down on the heads of unsuspecting passers-by?’
For a moment the room was in uproar, and it was Bull who stood up and called for order. ‘Please, ladies and gentlemen, there will certainly be a little inconvenience to the people living near the railway, but think of the financial advantages. Men will be needed to work constantly on the line, and local men will be employed here when we railway workers move on.’ He spread his hands in a gesture that encompassed everyone in the hall. ‘We will all benefit from the railway in one way or another and the town will be revolutionized with it creating opportunities for work and travel.’
