by Iris Gower
‘She may be a bit strong in her language sometimes but she means no harm. There’s not a malicious bone in her body.’
That stung, trust Llinos to take Pearl’s part, but then Llinos was not too choosey about the sort of person she associated with. She was not even particular about who she went to bed with, otherwise she would not be married to that foreigner.
‘She’s not so kind when she talks about you,’ Lily said. ‘She’s always going on about you and your husband.’
‘I’m sure it’s in fun.’ Llinos was not going to be drawn and Lily felt the blood rush to her head. She was determined now to turn Llinos against Pearl whatever it took.
‘It’s not!’ Lily said. ‘Pearl keeps on about the captain and how he was murdered by . . . by Mr Mainwaring. She says there’s no smoke without fire.’
‘Well she’s wrong!’ Llinos said. ‘If you’ll excuse me, Lily, I have to get indoors.’ She walked across the yard, her head high and Lily felt a moment of triumph, her barb had struck home. Now, perhaps, Llinos would not be so ready to forgive Pearl everything.
At the lodging house the smells of roasting meat drifted into the hallway and followed Lily up the stairs. She realized she was hungry and smiled at the prospect of supper. There would be an abundance of good food as well as of gossip discreetly displayed as concern for whomsoever was the subject.
Lily enjoyed her supper time; it was a time when she could listen and learn and pick up pieces of information that were sometimes very valuable. And, of course, she would be with Polly and after supper they would go to sit in the garden until the light faded. They would talk over the day and laugh about the foolishness of the other guests – all men, who simpered, blushed and fussed around the two girls hoping for some sign of approval from them.
And tomorrow, Lily thought as she entered her room and stared out through the big front window, tomorrow, she might just take a walk over to the Tawe Pottery and look for a position worthy of her talents.
‘Well, we’re actually here in America!’ Watt stared around the sunlit room in the pleasant guest house and breathed in the sweet, clean scent of lavender. The room was larger than he was used to but then the houses here seemed to be built of wood and not stone. The sun shone in through the window highlighting the pristine sheets on the two narrow beds. The furniture was sparse but well-polished. They would be very comfortable here, he could see.
The appetizing smell of food drifted up from below stairs. Watt reckoned that he and John had been lucky to get lodgings here at Mrs French’s boarding house.
It seemed such a long time ago when he left the shores of England to cross the Atlantic Ocean to America. And Watt had enjoyed every minute of the trip; it appeared to him to be an adventure, a journey into the unknown, one that every young man should make before he settled down.
Watt glanced across the room to where John was stretched out on the other narrow bed, his arms behind his head, his eyes closed. He was taking the whole thing in a most matter-of-fact way; as though he travelled across the world every day of his life.
Watt sat on his own bed and settled back against the pillows. He thought of Lily, of the way her hair curled against her neck and the sweet innocence of her mouth. What a pity that she was frigid and unyielding. But was she? If his approach had been more delicate, would she have responded to him with warmth? The fault could well lie with himself.
‘I expect we’ll meet some fine ladies here,’ John said as though he had picked up on Watt’s line of thought. ‘It appears there’s a shortage of men around here and a plethora of women.’
‘You could be right,’ Watt said. ‘But my guess is that women here, like back home, will want a ring on their finger rather than a roll in the hay.’
John opened his eyes. ‘You have a point.’
‘Still, it might be fun to find out.’ Watt sat up as the sound of a bell echoed through the house. ‘I think supper’s ready. Thank goodness for that, I’m starving.’
The two men descended the stairs together, apparently at ease with each other, and yet Watt felt he would never be a real friend to John. Oh, the Cornishman liked him well enough but he was cut from another cloth. John had been born to privilege, to fine food served by servants. Watt, on the other hand, was one of the lower orders, of unknown parentage, taken in by the Savage family and made into a copy of a gentleman. Yet, somehow, his origins must show, must be obvious to someone like John.
‘The dining room is over there, judging by the noise,’ John said, leading the way across the hall and entering the room full of people without hesitation. Watt would never have that sort of confidence and, gratefully, he followed John.
‘Evenin’, gentlemen.’ Mrs French lifted her hand and gestured for them to come and be seated at the table. ‘I hope you like pork cooked with honey?’
Watt sat next to a fellow who was already halfway through his dinner and wondered at the strange customs of the American people. First the food was cut and the knife laid down, and then the food lifted using only the fork. He glanced across to where John was seated next to Mrs French; he was taking a hearty helping of meat and regaling the landlady with some tale or other that was making her laugh. John was very good at communicating with all sorts of people: he would be an invaluable asset to any business.
‘You likely to stay here long?’ The softly spoken voice of his neighbour caught Watt’s attention.
‘Yes, I don’t know, I suppose I’ll stay as long as my plans will allow.’ He did not want to appear distant but on the other hand he could hardly tell all and sundry what his business was.
‘I’m Leigh Denver, sure like to shake you by the hand.’ A brown hand was extended and, somewhat embarrassed, Watt took it.
‘Pleased to meet you, my name is—’
‘I know your name.’ Leigh smiled. ‘When strangers come to town, it’s something to chew over, before you’ve time to step off the train everyone knows your name.’
‘Is that so?’ Watt was amused. The American people were open and friendly to the point of nosiness but somehow he found them easy to like.
‘What I don’t know,’ Leigh continued, ‘is what you are doing here.’ He smiled disarmingly and helped himself to some sweetcorn. ‘Looking for work, are you?’
‘No, not as such.’ Watt glanced across the table and saw that John was listening. Watt raised his eyebrows in a plea for help and John, adept at conversation, stepped in.
‘My partner and I are travelling the world, finding out what we might be missing before we settle down to marriage back home.’ He lied glibly. ‘I think young men should venture into the world at least for a year or two, don’t you?’
Leigh smiled wryly. ‘I wouldn’t mind half a chance!’ He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘I just wish I had the money but my daddy’s not rich so I got to work for a living.’ There was a touch of envy in his tone and Watt smiled inwardly. If only the American knew the truth, that Watt had no father at all, let alone a rich one.
‘Say,’ Leigh said, taking a huge slice of the steamed pudding that was being passed around the table, ‘I’m going to a shindig later, want to come along?’
‘I wouldn’t mind. What about you, John?’
John shook his head. ‘You go, though, it will be good to meet some more of the local people.’ It was clear what his message was: find out what you can without arousing suspicion.
‘Right then, that’s settled.’ Leigh leaned closer. ‘Thank the Lord for some young blood. As you can see most of the men here are all past their prime, don’t want to go dancing or drinking or womanizing.’
Watt concentrated on his pudding. It was rich and sweet and covered with syrup; it had been a long time since he’d eaten so well. It seemed the Americans believed in eating hearty meals; a practice that he was all in favour of.
Later he walked along the dusty roadway with Leigh and studied the wooden buildings on either side of him. Dried brush drifted along the porches and became caught in doorwa
ys. It was hot and yet the air seemed clear; the skies above him were darkening now after the glorious blaze of the dying sun. America was a wonderful place, a place where Watt could put down roots.
‘Hey there, Watt Bevan!’ The voice struck at him like a bolt from the past. He turned and looked into the face of Binnie Dundee.
‘Well I’ll be damned!’ Watt was clasped in a warm hug and was aware of Leigh looking on in astonishment.
‘Lordy, England must be a small place if you knows everyone in it, Mr Dundee.’ It was clear from the deferential way Leigh spoke that Binnie was a respected man in the town.
‘Where are you going?’ Binnie asked and there was a note of anxiety in his voice that puzzled Watt.
‘Just to some dance or other with Leigh. Why don’t you come along?’
Leigh chuckled. ‘I don’ think Mrs Dundee would like that, not with a new baby to care for.’
Watt blinked rapidly. ‘A new baby?’ He thought of Maura at home: an old maid before her time, a woman who had died, inwardly at least, and who lived her life as though it were nothing more than a burden. He remembered too the gossip that claimed Binnie had married again. Could it be true?
‘We must get together and talk,’ Binnie said quickly. He forced a smile. ‘There’s so much my American folks don’t know about my wild youth and I want to keep it that way, understand?’
Watt frowned and Binnie hugged him again. ‘Don’t talk about Maura whatever you do,’ he whispered the words hoarsely and then drew away. ‘Go on, enjoy yourself and tomorrow make time to come over to visit me and my family, anyone will tell you where we live.’
As he watched Binnie walk away Watt was beginning to understand what Binnie had done. He had married again, had children. ‘Binnie, you fool!’ Watt was not aware he had spoken the words out loud until Leigh caught his arm.
‘Mr Dundee’s nobody’s fool!’ Leigh said emphatically. ‘He’s married into a good potting family and provided Dan McCabe with three fine grandsons. He might have sown his wild oats before he took a wife but he’s settled down all fine and dandy now!’
‘You’re right,’ Watt said dryly. ‘Binnie Dundee is nobody’s fool. Well, let’s hope that no ghosts from the past come back to haunt him.’
Leigh looked at him in bewilderment and, abruptly, Watt changed the subject. ‘Where’s this shindig you talked about? I’m feeling quite dry, I could do with a beer.’
‘It’s not far now,’ Leigh said, his brow clearing, ‘and you’ll find there’s more than beer to quench your thirst.’ He laughed and slapped Watt across the shoulder. ‘Make up your mind to it, man, you are about to get one hell of a good time!’
He hoped so, but now Watt’s mind was on Binnie, on his apparent affluence and the respect he seemed to be held in. He had fallen on his feet, that much was clear, but in doing so he had taken the biggest gamble of his life.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
‘SO THE MEETING with Mr Grantley went well, did it?’ Llinos was seated beside Joe in the dining room. They ate together, as always, and their guest Mr Marks chose to eat in his own suite of rooms. Llinos only picked at her meal; she knew her husband and he was troubled.
‘I see no problems at all. Grantley says there will be no case to answer. I expect he’s right.’
He met her eyes and Llinos knew he was telling the truth, Joe never lied to her. She changed the subject, hoping to distract him from whatever thoughts were bothering him.
‘I don’t know what’s wrong with Lily.’ Llinos dropped her pristine napkin onto the polished surface of the table. ‘Her attitude lately is bordering on rude, not to say hostile.’
‘Perhaps you should have a word with her,’ Joe said. ‘It’s possible she’s just missing Watt; they were walking out together, weren’t they?’
‘That could be it.’ Llinos stared at her husband across the gleaming silverware and, in the candlelight, he looked like a bronzed idol carved from precious stone. Her heart ached with love for him. He had been through the mill lately. Even now he looked distracted, as though his thoughts were elsewhere.
‘What’s wrong, Joe?’ she asked, leaning forward, stretching to touch his hand. He glanced at her and his eyes were seeing things beyond the room; beyond the thick walls of Pottery House.
‘It’s my sisters; something is wrong,’ he said. ‘I think it’s time I took a trip up to the Welsh marches to see them. I could see how the estate is running at the same time.’ He smiled. ‘Financially things seem to be going well, the income improves each year.’
He turned his fingers in hers. ‘I would ask you to come away with me, Llinos, but I’ll be doing some hard riding.’
She sighed. ‘And I would slow you up. I can’t leave Swansea now anyway, Joe. I’m needed here. With Watt in America there’s no-one to look after the pottery. I would ask Mr Marks to step in but he knows nothing about potting.’ She smiled. ‘And I can’t expect Pearl to handle things, she’d cause mayhem in less than a day.’
She rose from the table and stood behind him, her arms around his neck, her cheek resting against his glossy hair. ‘If you do find there’s anything seriously wrong with your sisters, I will come at once, of course.’
He turned, taking her in his arms, and she breathed in the fragrance of him: the scent of his skin, the clean smell of his hair. His hands were pressing into her back; she was so close to him she could feel his heartbeat. She closed her eyes.
‘I love you, Joe.’
His mouth lingered on hers, held for a breathless moment and then he moved away.
‘I’ll get the groom to saddle up at once.’ He turned in the doorway and looked back at her. ‘I won’t be away any longer than I can help. At least I will rest easy knowing Sam Marks is staying in the house and that Eynon is near at hand should you need him.’
‘I will be all right,’ Llinos insisted. ‘I will just miss you, that’s all. I hate it when we are apart. Can’t you wait until morning at least?’
‘No, I don’t think I can. The sooner I leave, the sooner I’ll be able to return.’
It was less than an hour later when Llinos stood at the gates of Pottery House and watched her husband ride away into the night. She bit her lip, fearing, as she always did, for his safety. She simply wouldn’t be able to go on living if anything ever happened to Joe. She looked up at the heavy clouds that gathered over the river and clung to the pottery buildings. It was going to be a moonless night with the promise of rain. Llinos shivered and returned to the warmth of the house.
She felt at a loss as she wandered aimlessly into the empty drawing room. She could take up some embroidery or look at the latest patterns for the pottery, but she was too restless to settle to anything. At last, she climbed the stairs and knocked lightly on the door of Sam Marks’s rooms.
She heard his voice telling her to enter and she turned the handle with a feeling of relief that her guest had not retired for the night.
‘Llinos, my dear child, you look harassed to death! What is it?’
‘Joe has ridden up to his sisters’ home and I think it’s going to rain. I do hope he rides carefully.’
‘Ah, I thought I heard the sound of hooves on the driveway.’ Samuel drew a chair nearer to the fire. ‘Won’t you join me for a little while?’
Llinos sat down, her hands clasped in her lap. ‘Are you lonely here, Mr Marks?’ she asked and he shook his head.
‘I have always liked my own company, which is not to say that I am averse to the company of a lovely lady now and again. And please, Llinos, don’t stand on formality. Call me Samuel, I would like it.’
She nodded. ‘I will. Do you miss your son, Samuel?’
‘I do not! I want nothing more to do with him.’ He leaned back in his chair. ‘Tell me, why has Joe ridden off in such haste, is anything wrong?’ He was clearly changing the subject.
‘He wants to check on his sisters. Joe gets these . . . premonitions some would call them.’
‘Joe’s talents are many and unusual
,’ Marks said. ‘I would trust that man to rescue me from any sort of crisis that this bad world could throw at me.’
Llinos smiled. ‘I feel exactly the same.’
Samuel leaned forward and took her hand. ‘But you are unhappy at his departure all the same. You are worried about his safety?’
Llinos nodded, her eyes filling with tears. ‘He thinks of everyone except himself,’ she said and Samuel patted her hand with his thin fingers.
‘Now listen to me. Your husband has fought in the wars. He has survived the most dreadful battles as well as the most inclement of weathers. Joe can take care of himself, believe me.’
She was cheered by Sam Marks’s certainty. He was right, Joe was a strong, intelligent, able man. He would sort out his sisters’ problems and be home with her in a day or two. In the meantime she had work to do. She would check the books, the stock lists, the products that the Savage Pottery was producing; in short, she would take care of the business her father had founded and which, if God was willing, her children would one day inherit.
‘Thank you for talking to me, Samuel.’ Llinos rose to her feet. ‘You have made me feel much better. Now, I’d better be getting ready for bed. I have to be up bright and early in the morning.’
But once in her room she stood at the window and looked out into the darkened garden, and, though she willed her thoughts to touch Joe as he rode into the night, for once there seemed no answering response.
‘You see, Lily, I told you, men are all fools, give them a bit of flattery and they think they are gods!’
‘Well, it seemed to work with Watt,’ Lily agreed. ‘I can’t say I wanted him to kiss me, mind, but I managed to pretend I liked it.’ She sighed. ‘Anyway, he’s in America now, I won’t have to pretend any more, not for a while at least.’ She looked at Polly who was sitting on the edge of her bed, her nightgown wrapped around her none-too-clean feet. ‘Do you think I’m cold, Polly?’
‘Bloody hell no!’ Polly laughed, her head tipped back, her long hair swinging down her back. ‘You’re no more cold than I am. You’re just more careful about who you gives it to. You wait, when the right man comes along, you’ll fall for him like a pile of stones.’
