Dream Catcher

by Iris Gower

  ‘You don’t mean it?’ Watt’s eyes gleamed. ‘Pearl in charge! She’ll be a real dragon to work for! I’m so glad I won’t be here to see it.’

  ‘I gave her the post as a sop to her pride,’ Llinos said. ‘Pearl was angry because I appointed Lily chief painter. Well, it’s a promise I will have to honour and take the consequences.’

  ‘We’d better be going, leave you in peace,’ Watt said and John, taking the cue, followed Watt to the door. Once there he held out his hand to Joe and spoke in his soft Cornish voice. ‘Thank you for having faith in us, Mr Mainwaring.’ He looked at Llinos. ‘Thank you too, Mrs Mainwaring. We’d better be going now, leave you in peace.’ He smiled. ‘In any case, Watt and I have a lot of planning to do.’

  Llinos watched as the two men strode across the lawns and towards the drive. Everything was changing, the whole world was changing, and she had no power to halt it by one second. But the most important thing in her life was that Joe was here beside her.

  She sighed and rested her head against his shoulder. ‘I’m going to miss Watt,’ she said. ‘Sometimes I wish I could stop time from moving on.’

  Joe turned her face up to his. ‘He won’t be going just yet. In any case, he’s growing up into a fine man. He needs to explore the world, to learn what it is he really wants from life.’

  ‘And you in your generosity are giving him that chance.’ She pulled his face down and kissed him.

  ‘Come on, wife!’ He drew her to her feet. ‘You have duties to perform that just can’t wait.’

  Laughing, Llinos ran ahead of him. She knew that he wanted her and already her blood was on fire.

  ‘Well, Lily, don’t just remain there in silence, won’t you give me an answer?’ They were walking along the river bank of the swiftly flowing Tawe. Grasses waved mysteriously beneath the water and small whirlpools were set up by inquisitive fish rising to the surface. Watt stared into the young girl’s face: her beauty was flawless, her eyes large and perfect, her lashes sweeping her cheeks. She was like a goddess, her figure slim and yet shapely, her hands – those talented hands – small and feminine.

  ‘I can’t go to America with you, Watt, don’t be silly.’

  ‘What is silly about it, tell me?’ He was angry, he had expected Lily to be delighted when he suggested they marry as soon as possible and travel abroad as husband and wife. ‘You turned me down last time I asked you because you didn’t want to be separated from me. Well, come with me, then, that’s what I’m saying. It’s no longer a risky venture. Joe is funding the trip and I have enough money to pay for your passage, look.’ He dipped into his coat pocket and brought out a purse that held his savings. She was not impressed, she turned her face away.

  ‘I don’t want to come with you,’ she said. ‘There now, is that plain enough for you?’ She stared at him, two spots of colour burning in her cheeks. Her tone softened. ‘Look, I’ve been given promotion at the pottery, you know that. I can’t leave now.’

  ‘But, Lily, you would be in charge of things once we were settled in America. It would be almost as good as owning the pottery, can’t you see that?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, Watt, no!’ She sank down on the grass, her gown falling softly around her feet – pale and pink like the petals of a flower. He wanted to hold her and cherish her, to lay her back and pierce her softness. In that brief moment he knew how easy it could be to force her into submission. He picked up a stone and threw it into the water and watched the circles widening outwards towards the bank.

  ‘And you won’t wait for me?’ He had no pride now, he just wanted Lily to agree to belong to him. He would take any crumbs of comfort she could offer.

  ‘Yes, I’ll wait for you, Watt,’ she said, but she did not meet his eye and he knew, with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, that she was lying. All at once the prospect of leaving his home, Lily and all that was familiar lost its lustre.

  ‘Well, I won’t go if you won’t,’ he said, and even to himself the words sounded childish and empty.

  ‘Of course you’ll go.’ Lily’s head was bent, her soft hair fell forward and he could see the innocent sweetness of white flesh at the nape of her neck. He knelt and kissed it and she spun away as if he had burnt her.

  ‘Don’t take liberties, Watt!’ She was angry. He ignored her anger and took her face in his hands and pressed his mouth against hers. She struggled for a moment and then lay as if dead in his arms. There was no warming response, no hint of desire. With a cry of despair he released her.

  ‘You are a cold, frigid woman!’ he said, his fury concealing the fact that he was cut to the quick by her attitude.

  ‘I am a good woman,’ she said. ‘And good women do not enjoy a man’s attentions.’

  He shook his head in disbelief. Poor Lily, poor misguided girl. Her past experiences had robbed her of all natural joy in being with a man. Reticence in a virgin was all well and good but surely any woman should warm to the man she loved?

  ‘Llinos seems very happy when she’s with Joe,’ he said, attempting to reason with her. ‘She’s a lady of good birth and I have seen her look at her husband with a light of love in her eyes that would put the sun to shame.’

  Lily’s lip curled. ‘Any lady who could go to bed with a foreigner is no lady at all, in my view.’

  He could scarcely believe she was saying the words that fell spitefully, like darts of rain into the softness of the day. He knew then that Lily was never meant to be his wife. Perhaps one day, when she fell in love, she would change but now there was no moving her, she was all coldness and displeasure.

  ‘And I thought you liked Llinos Mainwaring, respected her,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘You know something, Lily, I’m sorry for you.’ He turned his back. ‘Come on, I’ll walk you back to your lodgings.’ Then, he thought, he must hide away his money somewhere safe.

  As he watched Lily walk through the door of the tall house with its blank windows and grimy facade, he felt as though he was watching her walk out of his life.

  He turned and strode through the streets towards Wind Street and the Castle Hotel. A drink of beer might restore his lowered spirits. It was just as well he was going away, he thought, otherwise he would be tortured by seeing Lily day after day, desiring her, knowing that he would never have her. Even if she had agreed to marry him, even if she had come to his bed, she would never have given herself to him. Not the inner, secret self that was Lily.

  Inside the smoky room of the Castle Hotel, the rise and fall of voices had a soporific effect on Watt. For once there was no-one there he knew and he was relieved, the last thing he wanted was to force a cheerfulness he did not feel.

  The beer was rich, brown, strong and somewhat bitter. Its effect on Watt was an almost immediate lightening of his spirits. He realized he had eaten nothing since breakfast. Somehow, it did not seem to matter, nothing seemed to matter.

  He drank more than usual and, through his fuddled thoughts, he dimly realized that he was attempting to drown his sorrows in a way he had always despised. It was weak and it was fruitless. All that would be gained was a headache, a sick stomach and in the morning the problem would still be there.

  He tried to clear his thoughts: it was time he was getting back to Pottery Row. He rose to his feet and lurched towards the door.

  ‘Hang on there, laddie!’ A voice spoke close to his ear. ‘You are in no fit state to go out into the night. Come on, there’s a decent bed and shelter here. You won’t make it home in your state.’

  He looked into the face of the serving wench and nodded sagely. ‘You are a good friend, Polly.’ The words slurred into one as he put his arm around the girl. ‘A good friend, indeed.’

  She guided Watt out of the room and towards the stairs. They were dark and steep. Watt felt his head swimming. He found himself in a room; the candles were lit and the bed appeared welcoming. He fell across the quilted cover and smelled the clean scent of lavender.

  ‘I’ll pay you for the room,’ he
said, trying to find his pocket.

  ‘No need for that now.’ Polly’s voice was soft. She was clean and fresh and for once she did not smell of the beer she served. ‘The room is empty for tonight and you might as well sleep it off here as tramp the streets.’

  Watt heard the door close and took a deep breath. His head was spinning but he felt as if he could conquer the world. He must have dozed because he opened his eyes to see Polly bending over him. She was wearing only a shift from which protruded small, rounded breasts. Her hair swung forward across her face as she bent over him.

  ‘Shall I stay with you tonight?’ she said in a whisper. He tried to sit up, attempting to focus his eyes.

  ‘What?’

  She slipped onto the bed beside him, her hands busy undoing his clothes. He lay back; it must be a dream, all a dream. Soft hands touched him intimately, he felt hot lips against his skin and he was aroused.

  ‘You are so beautiful,’ she whispered, ‘so young, so handsome. I could fall in love with you, Watt Bevan.’

  He wondered what she wanted with him but he did not wonder long. She sat astride him, her firm white legs encircling his hips and he groaned. It seemed she was going to use him like a stud and somehow the knowledge excited him. She moved above him; her scent was of rose water and summer flowers. She was young and beautiful in the flickering light of the candles. Her hair was soft and golden with a bright ribbon tangled in the curls. He gasped as she drew him to her, he couldn’t resist the sweetness that was coursing through him. He was a young man and his hot blood cried out for release.

  When it came, his release was like stars exploding in his blood. He gasped and thrashed for a few seconds more, not wishing the sensation to end. She lay beside him and touched his hair.

  ‘Sleep now, go to sleep and rest.’

  He turned over, feeling her throw the blankets over him. All he wanted now was sleep and forgetfulness. When he woke the bed beside him was empty. He sat up quickly, realizing he was naked. He slipped out of bed and pulled on his clothes. He wondered if last night had really happened. Had Polly seduced him or was it a dream? It was not a dream; when he pulled on his coat and felt in his pockets he found his money gone. He opened the curtains to search on the floor and moaned as a rainbow of flashing lights caught his eyes. The sunlight brought the sure knowledge that his savings were gone and that he would spend the day suffering for his indulgences of the previous night.

  He rested a moment, fighting a feeling of nausea and then, gingerly, he opened the door. The smell of beer from downstairs made him gag but he forced himself to walk into the empty tavern.

  ‘So you are still alive this morning, then?’ The landlord was brushing sawdust across the floor. ‘I can see you feel rough, what about a drink to ease you into the day?’

  ‘Water, that’s all I could drink.’ He sank down into a seat and closed his eyes as the early sunlight slanted in through the windows.

  The landlord brought him a mug of water and set it down before him. ‘Sleep well?’ he asked, resuming his task of attending to the floor.

  ‘That serving girl, Polly, where does she live?’ Watt wiped the droplets of water from his lips, the coldness had the effect of clearing his head a little.

  ‘Don’t ask me.’ The landlord grinned. ‘So long as she comes in and does her work that’s all I need to know.’ Watt swallowed hard.

  ‘You didn’t send her up to . . . to . . .’ As the words died away, the landlord laughed out loud.

  ‘To service you, that’s what you mean, isn’t it? Rot my teeth! This is not a knocking shop, my laddie, this is a respectable tavern.’

  Watt felt in his pockets, perhaps he had dreamed the whole episode, but there was no money. ‘It’s gone, all my money is gone, I just don’t understand it.’

  ‘Oh, go home, laddie, don’t fret your life away. You lost the money or you made a mistake. I’m telling you there are no sluts allowed in my tavern.’ Bob patted him on the shoulder. ‘So you lost a few shillings. You had a good time, didn’t you? A few beers and the sap rising while you slept, what more could a man ask of life?’ Still laughing, the man went outside and Watt stared around at the empty room.

  On an impulse, he turned and retraced his footsteps up the stairs to the room at the end of the corridor. He pushed it open; the bed was still rumpled, the maid had not been in to clean. He pulled back the quilt and searched the bed but there was nothing, no purse, nothing. But wait, caught on the brass bedpost was a long golden hair, and there, on the wooden floor, lay a bright ribbon.

  John Pendennis looked at Watt with a mixture of amusement and contempt: the man had lost his virginity and could not stop boasting about it. Well, who could blame him? It was an event in anyone’s life, an event to remember. The fact that he had lost his purse into the bargain was an indication that he had been taken for a fool by some worthless doxy.

  ‘But how can I find where she lives?’ Watt was saying. John shifted his position, the sun was warm on the banks of the River Tawe, the river ran fast and free down towards the sea. Soon he would be sailing on the sea, on his way to make a new life in America.

  ‘Forget her,’ he said. ‘You’ll have enough to do when we go away. I’ve heard that there are more women than men in the new country; you can have your fill of them then.’

  He looked consideringly at Watt: the man was strong and healthy enough, intelligent too. He spoke like a gentleman and yet his origins were obscure. John sighed, his own father might be a bankrupt but at least he was from good stock. But then how much would that count for when faced with the task of building up a business from scratch? He would need Watt, need his experience with all aspects of potting. In any case, he was growing to like the man, to feel that Watt had become a trusted friend. John had learned not to give his trust or friendship lightly.

  ‘I would like to see her again,’ Watt said, throwing a stone into the river. The ripples spread outwards towards the bank, growing wider before fading into the flow of the water.

  ‘You’d like to experience the joys of lust again, that’s what you mean, isn’t it?’ John said dryly.

  ‘I suppose it’s more than that,’ Watt said. ‘She seemed to really like me and to think me a fine stud.’

  ‘Ah, a very potent combination: flattery and sex.’ John moved a little closer to the river and looked into the depths, watching the fish darting in shoals towards an imagined feast as Watt threw another stone.

  ‘You are quite a cynic, aren’t you?’ Watt observed.

  ‘I suppose I am.’ John looked up at the sky: clouds were beginning to gather, soon it would rain. ‘Feel like another trip down to the Castle?’ he said.

  ‘Aye, why not, you never know, I might just fall lucky again.’

  Watt followed as John began to walk downhill. Watt was the taller by an inch or two, though John himself was above average height. They were two fine, upstanding, talented young men. John thought with some satisfaction. They would do well in the new world.

  Suddenly he was filled with a sense of hope and something like happiness. John Pendennis was on his way up in the world and, this time, he would see that no-one stopped him.

  CHAPTER TEN

  JOE SAT IN the sunlit drawing room facing Grantley, studying his every move, his every expression. A great deal depended on the man’s astuteness and deftness with words.

  ‘So, Mr Mainwaring, is there anything you feel you should talk to me about?’ Grantley was relaxed, resting easily against the comfortable chair, but there was an air of alertness about the man, a light of intelligence in his eyes. Joe liked what he saw.

  ‘I believe I have told you everything that was said and done prior to my arrest,’ Joe replied. ‘But I will go over it again if you wish.’

  ‘No.’ Grantley shook his head. ‘Though perhaps I could have samples of the medication you administered to Captain Savage?’

  ‘I would have to make some up,’ Joe said. ‘The good Dr Jones took away all he could find. What do you w
ant it for?’ Joe leaned forward.

  ‘I will have the stuff analysed.’ Grantley smiled. ‘I will also read all I can about the subject of herbal remedies, especially the ones used by you. I like to have as many facts at my fingertips as I can, that way I’m prepared for all eventualities.’

  Joe could see the sense of that. ‘I can write a list of the roots I used and how I distilled them. The main ingredient I took from poppy seeds before they were ripe. I added some pulped and strained lettuce roots and—’

  Grantley held up his hand. ‘Write it down. I prefer to ponder over these things rather than try to absorb everything at once.’ He pressed his fingertips together. ‘These bottles that you used to store the medication, what were they originally used for?’

  ‘Simply potions of various kinds,’ Joe said.

  ‘You made sure the bottles were properly washed?’

  Joe looked directly at the lawyer. ‘I did not always oversee the washing of the bottles if that’s what you mean.’

  ‘So that task was left to the maids?’

  Joe nodded slowly. ‘Yes.’

  ‘That is very interesting. What I need now is to learn precisely what the bottles were used for. Do you understand?’

  ‘I understand perfectly,’ Joe said and he did. What Grantley was intimating was that some residue of other substances in the bottles might have corrupted the medication. Joe did not believe that was true but it was a possibility.

  ‘That might just be our best defence.’ Grantley raised his eyebrows. ‘You see, you’re not the only one who can read minds.’ He paused. ‘You do so from some kind of instinct; I do so from observation of the human condition.’

  ‘You are very wise,’ Joe said. Grantley inclined his head.

  ‘Coming from you I take that as a great compliment.’

  Llinos came into the room, her eyes anxious. Both men rose to their feet and Joe smiled at her, his eyes warm. She was his love, his Firebird, his dear wife. He wanted to be with her, his name must be cleared so that they would never be parted again.