by Iris Gower
‘Don’t cry, Mama,’ Sion said softly. ‘Papa is gone to the Great Spirit but he will always be there to look after us.’
‘I know, darling.’ Llinos lifted her head and walked proudly through the gates of the cemetery. Now she must learn to live without her beloved Joe.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Katie watched as the funeral procession passed by her, feeling sorry for the mourners. There were not many, just the widow and her son, and Mr Morton-Edwards with Jayne.
Katie felt a deep sympathy with Mrs Mainwaring; she was covered in black, even her face hidden by a veil, but she could tell by the stoop of her shoulders how unhappy she was. Mr Mainwaring had seemed a strong, healthy man, but life could play strange tricks on people. Perhaps, Katie thought, she should take warning from all this. She shouldn’t let life pass her by. She should see Bull, ask him why Rhiannon had been in his house that morning. There might be a reasonable explanation.
She went into the churchyard and watched as the kindly Father Martin performed the ceremony. His words were just audible to her as she stood in the shelter of the trees. She felt the solemnity of the occasion and tears came to her eyes. She wanted to run away through the winding streets of Swansea and fling herself into Bull’s arms. Surely all that mattered was that they loved each other.
He had done his best to see her – he had even called up at the Big House several times but she had refused to speak to him. Had she been too hasty?
She watched as Mrs Mainwaring walked by, holding her son’s hand. Mr Morton-Edwards nodded to her as he went past, but he did not stop to talk. He caught up with Mrs Mainwaring, put a hand under her elbow and guided her back towards the carriage.
Katie waited until everyone had gone, then went up to the grave and bowed her head. She did not know much about Mr Mainwaring, except that he had been a kindly gentleman, good and gentle to all he met. She turned and left the churchyard, walked slowly back along the road. The summer sun was going down and the shadows falling against the ground were violet, shading away into a deep purple.
Katie stood at the crossroads and wondered if she should go back to the Big House or try to see Bull. She found herself walking towards his home, and though her heart was thumping in her chest she knew she must try to put things right between them. She stood for a long time outside his house. The evening was drawing in and lamps were being lit in windows. But the windows of Bull’s house remained dark.
All at once a jealous rage filled her: was he even now with Rhiannon in that hut they had once shared at the side of the track? Was he holding her and kissing her and telling her he loved her?
She tried to think calmly. Tomorrow was the opening of the line into Swansea, and Bull was probably with Mr Cookson the engineer making final plans. She might as well go home.
The walk to the Big House took almost an hour, and by the time she arrived at the back door the sun was setting.
‘Duw, duw! Where have you been all day, Katie Cullen?’ Cook was taking a meat pie out of the oven, pans were boiling on the range and the kitchen was stiflingly hot.
‘It’s my day off, remember?’ Katie said. ‘I went for a walk and I came across the funeral of the American Indian gentleman. I stopped to pay my respects.’
‘Oh?’ Cook placed the pie on the hob. ‘Was he buried in a decent church, then? I thought he was a heathen.’
‘I don’t know about that but he was a kind man,’ Katie said. ‘He must have been, to take care of the little boy the way he did.’
‘Aye,’ Cook said. ‘You’re right enough there. He wasn’t the boy’s natural father.’ She glanced round, as if afraid of being overheard. ‘You know who the father is, don’t you? Mrs Buchan’s husband.’
‘I’ve heard talk,’ Katie said, ‘but it’s not for us to judge, is it?’
Cook ignored her. ‘I know Mrs Buchan is a hard mistress to serve, but no woman deserves to live with a man who can’t keep his trousers on!’
Katie frowned. Cook was so blunt.
‘And what about you, then? Have you seen Bull Beynon today?’ Cook’s eyes were bright with curiosity. ‘I know you and him have fallen out again but take my advice and make it up with him. You won’t find a finer man.’
‘But I saw Rhiannon coming out of his house early one morning, Cook. How can I trust Bull now?’
‘Listen, my girl, you don’t take no notice of women like Rhiannon. Mind, she’s out to get Bull back whatever way she can – he’s a good meal ticket, especially now he’s been made up to manager.’ She puffed out a breath. ‘Those maids are taking an awful long time laying the table. Go and fetch them, Katie. They’ll be loitering around like ladies of leisure. You’d better give them a hand or we’ll never get done here.’
Supper-time at the big house was always busy and so it was tonight, even though Mr Morton-Edwards and his daughter were the only ones present. For a while Katie was too busy to think of Bull or Rhiannon, but as she served the food she couldn’t help hearing the conversation around the table.
‘I’m so sorry for Llinos,’ Mr Morton-Edwards said. ‘She’s bereft without Joe.’
‘But she didn’t stay true to him while he was alive, did she?’
‘I don’t condone what she did but in her heart she always loved Joe very deeply.’
‘Then why did she go to my husband?’ Jayne demanded.
Katie kept her eyes lowered. What the master and his daughter were saying was no business of hers.
She felt rather than saw the master shrug his shoulders. ‘I’ve asked myself that a thousand times. It could be that she wanted to prove to herself she was still desirable.’
‘Well, my husband thought so – he probably still does.’ Jayne waved her napkin in an effort to cool the red flush that stained her cheeks.
‘And Joe had taken a mistress, remember,’ the master said. ‘Anyway, she finished with Buchan long before he was married to you.’
‘Well, I don’t think she should be playing the part of the grieving widow, not when she’s free to get another man into her clutches.’ She glanced up at Katie, who made every effort to appear engrossed in her task of taking away the soup plates. ‘I only hope you’re not going to be stupid enough to fall into Llinos’s arms now that she’s alone, Father.’
‘What I do is my business – and we will not talk about Llinos any more, we will only quarrel.’
Katie left the room. The gentry could make a mess of their lives just as poor folk did.
In the kitchen Cook was taking a rest. She looked up at Katie as she came in and said, ‘Now, Katie Cullen, my advice to you is to talk to your man. Tell him all that you saw and let him explain. It’s only fair to hear his side of it.’
‘I know, Cook, but I can’t get it out of my head that Rhiannon stayed with him in his house all night alone. What if she tempted him and . . . well, you know.’
Cook leaned forward. ‘Listen to an old woman before you ruin your life with jealous thoughts. You know full well that Rhiannon walked out of here without thinking about a roof over her head. If she turned up on the man’s doorstep with nowhere to lay her head, do you think Bull could turn her away?’
‘I suppose not.’ Cook’s words confirmed what Katie had thought. ‘You’re right, Cook,’ she said. ‘I should give him a chance to explain. I’ll go and see him tomorrow when I do the shopping.’
‘Aye? Well, don’t forget tomorrow’s the opening of Swansea station. Crowds will be there to see this Mr Brunel person and I doubt you’ll get a chance to talk to Bull till it’s over.’
‘All I can do is my best.’ Katie felt more cheerful now. ‘I’ll try to see him early, before all the pomp and ceremony starts.’
Cook heaved herself out of her chair. ‘Good. We’d better shift our legs now – we’ve got a lot to do before we can go to bed.’
Later, as Katie lay in her bed, her doubts returned. Rhiannon had seemed so triumphant, so positive that she’d get Bull back. ‘Am I deceiving myself?’ she whispered into the
darkness.
‘So, Dafydd, it’s true that you’ve taken another mistress?’ Jayne gazed at her husband with dislike. ‘I think you might have told me yourself, instead of letting me learn about it from the gossips. Where did you meet her and when?’
‘That is not your business, madam.’
‘I think it is when every servant from here to Cardiff knows about it.’
‘I’ll keep up the pretence that I still care for you.’
‘How kind.’ Jayne’s voice was heavy with sarcasm. ‘And am I to know who she is?’
‘She’s younger than you, full of the joys of life, and besotted with me.’
‘A younger woman? So the merry widow could not be tempted?’
‘That is over and done with.’
‘She told me she’d never bother with you again, and Llinos is a woman of her word.’ Jayne frowned. ‘It’s more than that, though, isn’t it? I expect you tried to persuade her but she would have nothing to do with you. You see, Dafydd? We all find out what you’re really like. In the future I see you as an embittered old man.’
‘And what about you, Jayne?’ Dafydd said. ‘I can take a dozen mistresses if I like and no one would turn a hair – but a respectable woman may not have a lover, may she?’
‘I am aware of that,’ Jayne replied. ‘I’ve only to see how poor Llinos is treated because of you.’
‘So you’ll lead the life of a nun, will you?’ Dafydd was taunting her, but Jayne smiled.
‘I will live the life of a successful businesswoman who can outshine her husband at every turn. Don’t concern yourself about me. If love-making is what you gave me I will never miss it.’
Her barb had struck home for Dafydd blanched. ‘I shall leave you for tonight, my dear wife,’ he said. ‘I’ll go to the arms of a woman who knows how to love.’
‘And knows how to spend your money, I dare say,’ Jayne said. ‘Mistresses don’t come cheap – at least, not from what I’ve overheard of servants’ gossip.’
Dafydd turned on his heel and left the room. Jayne felt no regret, only relief that the pretence was over.
She moved to the desk, unlocked the little drawer and took out her share certificates. The paper crackled in her fingers and she smiled. This meant more, far more, than all Dafydd’s bedroom fumblings put together.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Llinos had never felt less like going out than she did today. Only a short time ago she had watched her husband laid in his grave and the pain was still sharp, but Sion was looking forward to seeing the train arriving in Swansea for the first time and she could not disappoint him.
‘When is Uncle Eynon coming for us?’ He stood in the window, barely able to contain his excitement. ‘And will there be crowds of people on the Western Princess?’
‘Is that what the train is called?’ Llinos made herself pay attention. ‘You know more than I do about it, Sion.’
‘There he is! Uncle Eynon’s here.’
Eynon came into the house. ‘All ready, then? I see our Sion is raring to go.’ He stepped closer to Llinos. ‘Have you heard from Lloyd? I know he missed the funeral but I thought he’d be home by now.’
‘Lloyd is living a new life. I think he follows the American Indian belief that his father is gone to a hallowed place and the ceremony of burial as we know it here is not necessary.’
‘Still, I think he should have come, if only to support you.’
Llinos thought so too, but she did not want to be disloyal to her son. ‘You were there, Eynon, and you always are when I need you.’
‘That’s what friends are for, isn’t it?’
‘Where’s Jayne? I thought she was coming with us?’
‘She’s going as a guest of the bank, and she’s thrilled to bits about it. Now, the carriage is waiting. Come along, Sion, we’ll try to get as near the front as we can – we might even see Mr Brunel himself, if we’re lucky.’ He looked down at Llinos. ‘And afterwards we’ll be celebrating with the public breakfast and we’ll certainly meet him there.’
‘Oh, good,’ Llinos said, without enthusiasm. ‘Where is it being held?’ She had hoped to be back at home within the hour.
‘Mr Edgington of London has provided an enormous tent,’ Eynon replied. ‘There’s to be a great feast with dishes to tempt even the most jaded palate. Lamb and collard veal as well as beef will be served, not to mention lobster and oysters straight from Oystermouth village.’
‘It sounds wonderful,’ Llinos said absently, but she knew she would not be able to eat a thing.
The drive through Swansea would normally have left her gasping with pleasure: flags fluttered from rooftops, and streamers hung from upstairs windows giving the town a festive air. But without Joe to share it with her she felt numb.
‘Look, Uncle Eynon.’ Sion pointed to a group of bandsmen dressed in red jackets piped with white braid. ‘Aren’t they grand?’
Llinos could think of nothing but Joe. Her world was incomplete without him in it. Even when he had been far away in America, she’d known he was thinking about her, loving her.
Sion took her hand, and it was as if he sensed her grief. ‘Papa would have wanted you to enjoy today,’ he said gently. ‘You know he’s looking down at you, keeping you safe.’
‘You’re like an old man,’ she said. ‘You’ve got a wise head on young shoulders.’ But the child’s words comforted her and her spirits lightened. For his sake she would try at least to give the impression that she was enjoying herself. ‘I’m glad you brought me out, Eynon,’ she said brightly. ‘I think I’m going to enjoy today, after all.’
Dafydd took Serena’s arm and led her towards the tent where the festive breakfast was laid out. He was bored with her already, but she would do until something better came along.
He smiled thinly. His wife would not expect to see him there, and certainly not with his mistress. That would take the smug look off her face. She had forgotten that, as an important businessman, Dafydd would have received an invitation and today, even though he was not a shareholder, he intended to make the most of the occasion to speak to some influential people. He would buy his way into the Great Western Railway, whatever it cost him.
‘Oh dear,’ his mistress moaned, ‘do we really have to suffer the indignation of pushing through these crowds of common people?’
‘Be quiet, Serena, or I’ll begin to wish I hadn’t bought you. We’ll make our way round the back of the tents – it should be less crowded there.’
‘But the ground is damp and my shoes will be ruined.’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake!’ He stared down at her. ‘You’re becoming a bore.’
She opened her mouth to reply but shut it again as three burly men barred their way.
‘Can I help you, gentlemen?’ Dafydd said mildly, but his shoulders were tense: he sensed that these men meant trouble. By heading off the main track he’d laid himself open to any footpad who happened to be waiting for good pickings. He glanced around him but there was no escape. He could hear the crowds that thronged the field – women’s laughter, the shouts of children – but realized that no one would hear him if he called for help.
‘What do you want?’ he demanded, but no one spoke. The first blow felled him and he lay in the dust, trying to clear his head. ‘What’s this all about?’ He wiped the blood from his mouth just as another blow caught him in the ribs.
‘If it’s money you want, take it.’ He fumbled for his wallet but one of the men kicked it out of his hand.
‘You bastards!’ Dafydd said, feeling his lip swell to twice its normal size. ‘Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.’ He tried to get up but his feet were kicked from under him and he fell heavily to the ground. He twisted and turned but the silent beating went on remorselessly until, at last, Dafydd gave up the unequal struggle.
He must have passed out because it was some time later when he opened his swollen eyes and peered round him. His attackers had gone and so had his mistress. He staggered to
his feet, ignoring the curious looks that came his way, and slowly made his way home.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Katie stood at the edge of the crowd, straining to see if the train was coming into the terminus. Work on the Swansea station was not yet completed, but banners hung everywhere and some of the crowd were waving flags excitedly. She sensed someone beside her and looked round quickly. ‘Oh, Rhiannon, it’s you.’
‘Hello, Katie. On your own, then?’
‘Yes, I am, and you know why, don’t you, Rhiannon?’
‘Aye, ‘spects I do. Lor’, that Bull, he’s a demon for getting up early, always has been.’
‘I know you’re doing your best to take him away from me,’ Katie said, ‘but I heard this morning from one of the maids that you’re not living with Bull at all. You’re working for Mr Cookson, the engineer.’
Rhiannon looked away sheepishly. ‘Well, that don’t stop me seeing Bull, does it? I think my boy’s had a change of heart now, see. No fault of yours, mind, it’s just that I know what pleases Bull.’
Katie felt a dragging sense of despair, but before she had time to say anything a man came rushing along the track shouting at the top of his voice: ‘Accident! Up the line! A man and a boy are trapped! Someone come and help!’
He caught sight of Rhiannon and grabbed her arm. ‘Come quickly, it’s Bull,’ he said. ‘There’s been a fall of earth between Landore and Swansea, and he’s caught up in it.’
Katie froze. ‘Is he all right?’ she called over Rhiannon’s shoulder, but the man ignored her. His sympathy was for Rhiannon, who had been Bull’s woman for a long time.
‘You’d better get up there, Rhiannon,’ he said. ‘The engine with the directors on board will be coming in about one o’clock and you’ll never get past the crowd then.’
Katie had a sudden picture of Mrs Mainwaring at her husband’s funeral. She saw again her drooping shoulders, and in that moment she was more frightened than she had ever been in her life.
‘I’m coming with you,’ Katie said. ‘Don’t try to stop me, Rhiannon, because I’m coming whatever you say.’
