Dream Catcher

by Iris Gower

  Glancing through the open door, he saw Melia watching him and smiled inwardly. She was going to be a pushover. The drink had warmed his blood and he felt like taking Melia to bed and showing her what a real man could do for her.

  ‘I can read you like a book.’ Dan’s voice interrupted John’s thought. ‘And I’m here to tell you that my girls are virgins and will remain that way until they marry, isn’t that right, Binnie?’

  ‘I’ll vouch for the fact that Hortense belonged to no man before me, right enough.’ Binnie smiled. ‘And since the day we were wed, I’ve never looked at another woman. Hortense is all I want.’

  John could see that Binnie was speaking the truth; his words were not simply a cover to impress his father-in-law.

  ‘You are a lucky man,’ he said feelingly. Dan punched his arm and lumbered to his feet.

  ‘Come on, son, you are going to burst if you don’t get a woman soon. Ever had a woman, John?’

  John coughed in embarrassment; he had snatched a kiss with one of the maids in the days when his father could afford servants but he had never gone to bed with a woman. Now he was ashamed to admit his ignorance. Dumbly, he shook his head.

  ‘Well,’ Dan said, ‘this is your lucky day, son. I’m going to get you initiated into the ways of women. You’ll learn what they like and how to pleasure them. Then, on the day you gets married, you won’t act like a damned fool.’

  John was suddenly cold sober, events were moving too swiftly for him and he wasn’t sure he liked it. Dan led down through the garden and away to the stretch of rocky land beyond. Binnie remained where he was, helping himself to another drink.

  In the clearing beyond the trees, there was a small house. It was a pretty house, whitewashed with neat curtains at the windows. Dan pushed the door open and called out loudly, his voice echoing through the small rooms.

  A girl, no older than Dan’s daughters, came into the room. She smiled when she saw them and slid her arm around Dan.

  ‘This is Carla,’ Dan said. ‘Where are the rest of the girls?’ he asked. Carla lifted her eyes towards the ceiling.

  ‘Sleeping the hours away,’ she said, her voice throaty and low. ‘You’re such a strong man that you wear us out.’

  ‘Go wake them lazy women up so’s my friend here can have a choice,’ Dan said. John looked at him as the girl darted out of the room.

  ‘Is this a house of ill repute?’ he asked, his words sounding foolish even to his own ears. Dan sat down on one of the huge chairs. He laughed, his belly shaking over the tightness of his belt.

  ‘If it is, it’s my own private one,’ he said. ‘These are my girls, they keep me happy and I might tell you that no-one else gets a look in, that’s the rules. I look after them well enough and they are here just for my pleasure.’ He regarded John steadily. ‘So now you know the honour I do you letting you have one of them, any one you choose. It’s only hospitable for a man to share his goods with a visitor from another land.’ Dan walked to the door. ‘I’ll leave you to it, son, I got things to do.’

  When John was alone with the girls, they crowded round him touching his hair, his skin, exclaiming at the breadth of his shoulders and the narrowness of his hips. He suddenly realized that he did not want this: when he took a woman it would not be courtesy of another man, it would be by choice and in his own good time.

  ‘Thank you, ladies,’ he said, ‘but I’ve got things to do, too.’ He left the house and saw that Dan was waiting outside for him.

  ‘I don’t want to offend you, sir,’ John said, ‘but I’ll decline your generous offer and when the time is right, I’ll find my own woman.’

  ‘Well the ways of the English are mighty strange,’ Dan said. ‘But I respect you for being your own man.’ He put his arm around John’s shoulder. ‘Let’s go back to the house, I think it’s high time we talked business.’

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  LLINOS FELT THE chill of the air on her face as she walked in the park with Eynon. His head was bent and his fair hair beneath his hat was ruffled.

  ‘You see, Llinos, I don’t love Annabel. I will never love her.’ Llinos tried to read Eynon’s expression and there was no doubt that he meant what he said. Part of her was sad for him but somewhere, deep inside, she was angry with him.

  ‘Then why did you get involved with her in the first place?’ she asked a little acidly. ‘It seems you made love to her eagerly enough, she’s pregnant!’

  ‘She looked like you.’ The words, simply spoken, cut Llinos to the heart. Filled with contrition, she slipped her arm through Eynon’s and squeezed hard. She tried to think of something comforting to say but words failed her. Eynon spoke again.

  ‘I suppose my one consolation is that she loves me.’ He straightened his shoulders. ‘And I have responsibilities to face, a wife, a child. I shall be a family man in spite of myself.’

  The irony in his tone did not escape Llinos. She leaned forward a little to look into his face. ‘I want you to be happy, Eynon, you know that. Perhaps you will come to love Annabel. Love can grow out of friendship, can’t it?’

  ‘Yes it can.’ He met her gaze meaningfully and she was the first to look away.

  ‘How is she feeling, is she well?’ Llinos felt a constriction in her throat; she envied Annabel, envied her ability to conceive and carry a child without any problems. Since her miscarriage Llinos had watched her monthly curse with an intensity that was becoming an obsession; hoping, praying, that this time, this month, there would be no flow and instead there would be the beginning of another baby, hers and Joe’s baby.

  ‘She is in very good health but then, she’s a young strong girl with nothing to do and certainly nothing to worry about,’ Eynon said.

  ‘Except the most important thing in her life, the fact that her husband does not love her,’ Llinos said, a trifle more sharply than she had intended.

  ‘Love does not come to order,’ Eynon said reasonably. ‘You know that, Llinos. If it did you and I would have married years ago.’

  He was right, of course he was. ‘I’m sorry, Eynon,’ Llinos said. ‘I’m like a bear with a sore head today.’ She clutched his arm to her side. ‘Joe is to appear at the sessions next Monday and I don’t think I can go through the pain and fear of it.’

  ‘Of course you can.’ Eynon stopped walking and looked down at her. ‘You are the one who kept the pottery going single-handed when your father was away at war, you are the lady who married Joe against all the odds. You have courage, Llinos, you will see this through with your usual dignity.’

  ‘Thank you for your confidence in me.’ Llinos smiled tremulously. ‘But I wish I was as convinced as you are about my courage.’

  Eynon put his arms around her, disregarding the hostile looks of a lady passing with her dog. ‘We are all frightened at some time in our lives, it’s only human, so don’t be too hard on yourself.’

  She leaned against him for a moment, loving him but only in the way that one friend loves another. After a moment she moved away from him.

  ‘We’d better be getting back,’ she said. ‘I’m neglecting my guests.’

  Eynon frowned. ‘For heaven’s sake, Llinos!’ His voice was unusually sharp. ‘Will you stop all this fear and guilt that’s eating away at you, it’s not like you.’

  ‘I know.’ Her voice held a note of sadness. ‘I can’t seem to control it. So much has happened these last months, my father dying, Joe being sent to prison, losing the baby, it’s beaten me down, Eynon. I can’t seem to summon the will power I once had.’

  ‘Well you’d better snap out of it,’ Eynon said. ‘I love you dearly, Llinos, but I really think you are indulging in too much self-pity.’

  His words jarred and Llinos felt as though she had been struck. But was he right? She thought about the past weeks, the way she had moped about the house, only smiling, putting on an act, when Charlotte and Samuel were present.

  ‘Look, Llinos,’ Eynon continued, ‘you have become thin to the point of gauntness.
You are not doing yourself or Joe any favours by acting this way. You are fast becoming drab.’

  Llinos took a deep breath, trying to control the anger that suddenly raced through her. She stepped away from Eynon and stared up at him. ‘How dare you talk to me like that!’

  ‘Because it’s true,’ Eynon said. ‘Take a good look at yourself, Llinos. I can tell you now, you won’t like what you see.’

  ‘To hell with you!’ Llinos turned and ran from the park, careless of the fact that her bonnet had slipped off and was bumping against her shoulders. She was heading for the pottery before she realized that the last thing she wanted was company. She turned and made for the river. The waters of the Tawe, when they were calm, always had the ability to soothe her.

  The sharpness of autumn was still in the air, the leaves on the trees were turning red and gold. The river reflected the colours, sparkling in the clear sunlight like a myriad of candles. She sank down on the bank and stared into the swiftly moving water. Had she become drab? Was she being unfair to her friends, to Joe? She felt tears, hot against her cheeks and she let them flow; she felt she must cry all the hurt and fear out of her system before she could pull herself together and start acting like the grown woman she was.

  ‘God, this is a strange land.’ Watt had dismounted from his horse and was standing on the banks of the huge river staring across the unending landscape. Ahead of them, the guide, half Indian and half white American, drew to a halt and prepared to wait patiently, his horse pawing the dusty ground.

  ‘America is hot and sunny and fascinating,’ Watt said. ‘But now I’ve had enough of it. I can’t wait to go home.’

  ‘There’s not a lot of good news to take back to Joe Mainwaring though, is there?’ John was still astride his horse and Watt glanced up at him.

  ‘We can’t help that, now can we?’

  ‘Well, no,’ John said. Watt watched his face carefully, the man had something to say and Watt wished he would spit it out. He did.

  ‘I’m thinking of staying here. I could work for Dan McCabe,’ John said, staring out across the vastness of the landscape. ‘What do you think?’

  Watt shook his head. ‘You’ll have to please yourself on that, I can’t advise you one way or another.’

  John looked fit and well, Watt noticed, his skin was tanned brown already by the sun.

  ‘Do you want to stay?’ Watt asked. ‘And if you do, are you letting Joe down?’ Watt had not taken John to be a man to go back on a deal. His job had been to come out here and find a possible site for a new pottery for Joe and Llinos. Now he had taken Joe’s money for the trip, he was thinking of backing out of the deal.

  ‘What is there for me back home?’ John asked. ‘A job in a second-rate pottery with no prospects to speak of. Why don’t you stay too while you have the chance? I’m sure Dan McCabe could find a place for you in his business.’

  ‘No thank you.’ Watt’s tone was acid. ‘I don’t renege on deals.’

  John smiled mirthlessly. ‘You will learn that in this life the spoils come to those who grasp the opportunity, not to those who consider themselves honourable.’

  ‘Maybe, but I’ve a conscience, I like to sleep at night.’ Watt mounted his horse and stared John in the eye. ‘And what about young Richard? You brought him from Cornwall and made him think you would be almost a brother to him. How will he feel if you don’t come home?’

  ‘Richard will be fine. He’s fit in to the work at the pottery, hasn’t he? His life is much better now than it was. I’ve done him a favour. Now I have to think of myself.’

  ‘So you will settle for marriage with the McCabe girl in exchange for a good job, then?’

  ‘Isn’t that exactly what your friend Binnie has done?’ John asked. Watt shook his head, pleased that he had not disclosed the secret of Binnie’s past. It seemed John would not be above using anything to advance his own position.

  ‘Binnie is in love with his wife, that much must be obvious even to you.’ Watt was suddenly angry with John, angry at the way he had taken advantage of Joe, had taken his money and used it to his own advantage.

  ‘I’m not letting Joe down, not really,’ John said. ‘I’ve written out a report for him. You can take that back to him, at least he will find it literate.’ His voice was edged with sarcasm.

  ‘Meaning?’ Watt asked.

  ‘Don’t be offended but it’s clear which one of us has the education. I mean, why do you think Joe sent me along with you?’

  Watt felt like punching John’s face until the superior expression was wiped away. Instead, he turned his horse in the direction of town, waving to the guide to follow him.

  ‘You must do as you please,’ he said coldly. ‘But in my opinion, you are nothing but a twisting rat.’

  John’s derisive laugh followed Watt as he rode away. His blood was up, Watt felt the urge to kill for the first time in his life.

  John called after him. ‘Go on, run back home where you are safe, where you have to make no decisions, not even about the food you put in your mouth. You are a weakling, it’s no wonder Lily gives you the cold shoulder.’

  Watt ignored him. He rode his horse faster over the dusty ground, as if by putting a distance between himself and John he could outrun his jibes. But the blood was pounding in his ears and his hands were clenched around the reins until his knuckles gleamed white. And yet there was a sneaking feeling inside him that what John said was right. Perhaps Watt should grasp at any opportunity that presented itself. America was the land where anything was possible; just look at what Binnie had got for himself.

  By the time he reached Mrs French’s boarding house, he had calmed himself and he was able to smile and ask politely if he might have a bath.

  ‘Don’t want to do that too often,’ Mrs French said warningly. ‘Water can steal your strength.’

  ‘I think you’ll find that’s a piece of folklore that no-one believes in any more,’ Watt said but Mrs French wasn’t convinced.

  ‘If you’re sure, I’ll see to it,’ she said.

  It was good to lie in the tin bath and feel the warmth of the water lapping around him. It gave him time to think things through, to reason everything out. What did he really want out of life?

  The choices were clear, to honour his pact with Joe and return home or to stay and work in West Troy. Even as he reasoned it out, Watt knew, without question what he most wanted: it was to be in Swansea with the people he loved. Tomorrow he would make all the arrangements for returning home and to hell with John Pendennis.

  ‘I’ll be happy to work for you, sir.’ John was seated in the sunny sitting room of the McCabe household holding a glass of fruit cordial in his hand. Dan nodded sagely.

  ‘Smart move, son. What made up your mind for you?’

  This was tricky and John knew he must be careful how he replied. It would do no good to say there was no future for him working for Joe Mainwaring and to be seen as an opportunist who swayed this way and that with the breeze.

  ‘I’m impressed by your wonderful country,’ John said and he allowed a smile to spread across his face. ‘And I’m very impressed with your beautiful daughters.’ He coughed as if he had let slip something he meant to keep secret. He must in no way allow Dan to know that he had accepted marriage as part of the deal, oh no, he must put on the pretence that he admired the girls and was capable of falling in love with one of them.

  ‘The offer you made me,’ he said more seriously, ‘it’s a very good one. The opportunity for me to start my own pottery from scratch would be a challenge and one I would welcome. I believe it well within my capabilities.’

  ‘So do I or I wouldn’t have offered you the job.’ Dan smiled. ‘I knew I’d win you over one way or another,’ he said. ‘Tomorrow we’ll ride over to Albany, find the best site and stake our claim on it. Then it’s all up to you. You can cost the scheme from the building of the kilns to the buying of the fittings. Think you can handle it?’

  At this point John felt that hone
sty was the best policy. ‘I will learn, sir. I will learn quickly and very well.’

  ‘That’s all I wanted to know. Now, let’s call the ladies in. Melia is just bustin’ to meet you again, she’s talked of nothing else since the first time she set eyes on you.’ He rested his big hand on John’s shoulder. ‘And if you Cornishmen breed the same as the Welsh, I’ll be a happy man.’

  John was taken aback; he was being compared with Binnie Dundee and being viewed as a stud, a provider of grandchildren for the McCabes. Well, would that be such a difficult task?

  John waited until the ladies were seated and then met Melia’s eyes, smiling at her with just the right touch of interest and respect. At the same time he was aware of Josephine, young and pretty, her hair dishevelled in the most charming way. His smile included them both and he was amazed at his ability to turn on the charm, to flatter both girls and to coldly consider which one he would prefer to be married to.

  Melia was an attractive woman, no doubt about that; she had the poise and charm of those who have known a privileged existence. She was physically attractive, too; a small build, fine features and the look in her eyes hinted at passion. But none of that made any real difference to John as there was something missing: that magnetism that attracts a man to a woman like a bee to a flower was simply not there. Josephine, now, she was different; she concealed her feelings, her eyes remained downcast, she did not provoke him to admire her the way her sister did. Ah, well, it was not a bad situation to be in, he thought perhaps he should just let matters take their course, let fate decide which girl would be his bride. And, if he got bored, there were many girls out there looking for a man, girls who would be willing to be a mistress rather than a wife. Just look at Dan’s own little harem.

  ‘John is going to be part of the family now,’ Dan’s voice jarred him out of his reverie. The big man stood before the fireplace, smiling expansively, thrusting his thumbs into the waist of his breeches as though to ease the strain on his stomach. ‘He has agreed to work for the McCabe Pottery and I have great hopes that he will go far.’