by Iris Gower
‘Well there’s more than one way to skin a cat. He must like you a lot, don’t you think? He’s always giving you presents. So why don’t you play your cards right and butter him up? Men are fools for a bit of flattery.’ She hunched her knees and rested her chin on them.
‘I’d say go to his folks if you’d done it with some young lad or something but Saul Marks is a rich man, a catch, you reel him in, love, that way he’ll pay all right.’ She laughed. ‘For the rest of his life if I know you.’
‘What do you mean?’ Lily felt an ache begin to spread through her body and up to her head. She felt sick and ill and knew that nothing could induce her to go in to work today. She would be missed but that was just too bad, she had to think of herself right now.
‘Well, string him along, give him what he wants and then when he’s really hooked on you, get him to take you up the aisle. Say you’re having his kid, anything. The least he’ll do is give you money to keep you quiet. You like money, don’t you?’
How could she ever explain to Polly that she wanted only to be respectable? She had worn her chastity like a cloak of protection and now it had been torn away from her. But marriage to Saul, how would that work out?
Lily thought about it, it was the only possible solution. She did not love Saul but then she could not love any man. So why not heal some of the hurt by making the relationship a proper, respectable one?
‘Perhaps you’re right.’ She sipped the milk and placed the mug on the table, lying back dizzily against the pillows. ‘Poll, will you do something for me?’ Her voice was faint, she needed to sleep again, to remove herself from the painful thoughts that were plaguing her. ‘Will you go to the pottery and tell someone that I’ve been taken bad, I can’t come in to work today?’
‘Sod them!’ Polly said. ‘They can go stew. You never take time off, let them come and find out what’s wrong, see if they care as much about you as you do about your precious job.’
She was probably right. In any case Lily was too weary to think any more. She felt the warmth of the darkness flood over her and it was so welcome that she surrendered herself to it.
‘Don’t know where Lily is. Sorry, Watt.’ Pearl was not the least concerned about Lily, any fool could see that and Watt was no fool. He sighed and went back to the gate, staring along the row, hoping to see the small familiar figure coming towards him. Lily never missed work. He could not remember any time when she had not turned up at the usual time.
It had started to rain. He pulled up his collar wondering if he should go down to where she lived and make enquiries about her.
‘Watt!’ Llinos’s voice drew his attention. ‘Watt, can I see you a moment?’ She was waving to him and with a reluctant smile he went towards her. Work called, Lily would have to wait.
It was evening before Watt could make his way to the boarding house where Lily lived. He knocked on the open door, smelling the roasting meat without feeling hungry. He had not eaten all day, he had been too worried.
‘Come in, son.’ The landlady called to him, her hands covered in flour. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘I’m looking for Lily.’ It was warm in the kitchen with the fire roaring invitingly up the chimney.
‘Aye, she’s in bed, took sick in the night, poor girl,’ the landlady said. ‘Polly’s with her so you can go up if you like but only for a minute mind, and leave the door open. I don’t allow no hanky-panky here.’
He took the stairs two at a time, his heart thumping. He knocked on the door and it was Polly who opened it. She looked up at him in surprise.
‘Oh so someone has come from that pottery to see if Lil is dead or alive, ‘bout time too.’
He looked towards the bed and was relieved to see that Lily, apart from being a little pale did not appear too bad.
‘How are you feeling?’ He edged gingerly into the room. Lily turned her face away and Watt felt at once that his visit was unwelcome.
‘She’s bad, got a sick stomach.’ It was Polly who answered. ‘Girls get bad pains in their bellies sometimes, mind.’
‘Lily?’ he said and she lifted her hand without turning to face him.
‘Just leave me be, Watt, I’ll probably feel better tomorrow.’
With that he had to be content. Polly ushered him towards the door and shut it firmly in his face. He stared at the wood panels for a moment and then, with a sigh of resignation, made his way down the stairs and out into the street.
He thrust his hands into his pockets and stared around him, feeling restless and not knowing where to go: back home to the pottery or down to the Castle Inn for a drink and a chat with some of the men.
The Castle won. Watt walked swiftly now, wanting to be out of the stinging rain and cold. The fire in the large front room of the inn offered warmth and comfort. Gratefully, Watt sat down in the one available seat and ordered a mug of beer. He glanced round and saw that two men were huddled in the corner, talking quietly together. His gaze lingered on them because they seemed improbable mates. The older man sported a heavy grey beard and a greasy hat pulled down over his eyes. The other one he recognized from his visit to the pottery some time ago; it was Saul Marks, Samuel’s son.
He leaned towards them slightly, trying to hear their conversation. He could only pick up snatches of it, most of it was unintelligible to him.
‘Worked fine.’ The words drifted to him. ‘. . . any more?’ He turned as though to look towards the door, expecting the appearance of a friend.
‘Aye, could be.’ The older man spoke in a sibilant whisper but his words were clear. ‘Risky though, I’d need some more help – if you get my meaning.’
A few more words were spoken and then Saul Marks rose to his feet and left the inn. He was smiling in an unpleasant way as though satisfied with his night’s work.
Watt slid over towards the old man. ‘Was that Saul Marks you were with then?’ he asked and the man turned his face away.
‘Sod off!’ he said. It was then that Watt recognized him, not by his appearance, that was greatly changed, it was his voice that gave him away.
‘Bert Cimla!’ he said. ‘So you’ve turned up again, have you? Well let me tell you something, you keep away from the pottery or it will be worse for you.’
The man turned sullenly to look at him. ‘Why?’ he said, his bloodshot eyes full of venom. ‘What are you going to do about it?’
Watt grasped his greasy collar. ‘I’ll thrash you till you scream as you used to make me scream.’ He ground the words between his teeth.
Bert Cimla started back in his chair. ‘Landlord!’ he shouted. ‘This drunk is attacking me.’
The landlord came over to the table and stared down suspiciously at Watt who was still holding Cimla by the collar.
‘What’s wrong, Watt, gone mad have you? Better go home, boy, and sleep it off, too much beer don’t do anyone any good.’ The landlord spoke calmly and Watt gave Bert Cimla one last shake that rattled his teeth. ‘I’m going, but this is a warning to you, Cimla, keep away from Llinos and keep away from me.’
He strode out into the street, his mind racing. What did Bert Cimla have to do with Saul Marks? Whatever it was, Watt did not trust either of them. He thrust his hands into his pockets, he must warn Llinos to be on her guard because, whatever the two men were plotting, it did not augur well for anyone.
The wedding was a private affair with just family and close friends in attendance. Charlotte looked beautiful in a cream dress and a jacket edged with fur and a matching hat. Llinos thought how touching it was that Charlotte had embraced Samuel’s faith, she must love him very much indeed.
Llinos looked up at Joe and he put his arm around her. ‘Don’t they look happy?’ she said softly. ‘I think they are going to be almost as happy as we are.’
He kissed the tip of her nose. ‘No-one could be that happy,’ he said, smiling. ‘I have the most beautiful, most accomplished, most wonderful wife in all the world.’
Llinos leaned her head on his sho
ulder. ‘Flattery will get you everywhere, my dear Joe.’
A small reception was held in the dining room at Tawe House and Eynon’s generosity knew no bounds. The table was loaded with food: roast duck, game pies with crusty brown pastry coverings, as well as huge dishes of freshly baked bread. For those guests whose preference was for fish, whole salmon with the heads left on graced silver salvers.
Eynon’s wife was the gracious hostess and in spite of her condition, which was obvious to everyone now, she looked well and happy. Llinos greeted her politely.
‘Are you keeping as well as you look?’ she asked, aching with envy for the girl who carried her badge of fertility so proudly.
‘I am extremely well, thank you.’ Annabel’s reply was reserved; she regarded Llinos as a rival for Eynon’s affections and it showed in the cool arch of her brow and the downward turn of her lips.
Llinos sighed. ‘Please don’t keep your distance. You have nothing to fear from me, you must see that.’
The girl shook her head. ‘I only see that my husband can’t keep his eyes off you,’ she said. ‘I have tried to put it all out of my mind but every time I see you, the wound is opened again. I wish only that you would keep away from here and leave me and my husband to get on with our lives.’
‘But, Annabel, we are here at your invitation. I could hardly stay away from the wedding, could I?’
Annabel regarded her steadily. ‘No I concede that much, but perhaps in future you could refrain from tête-à-têtes with Eynon, that would make me feel much easier in my mind.’
At that moment Eynon joined them. He leaned forward and kissed Llinos’s cheek and in an involuntary movement she pulled away. He stood back, his eyebrows raised.
‘What’s this, Llinos, have I done anything to offend you?’ He looked from Llinos to his wife and understanding dawned in his pale eyes. ‘Please, take no notice of Annie, women in her condition have strange feelings, or so I am led to believe.’ He bowed stiffly and turned away.
‘You see what you do to him, to us!’ Annabel’s voice was almost a cry and after a moment she left Llinos and walked slowly towards Eynon. Llinos saw her put a placating hand on his arm. He looked down at her, his face white, his anger clear in the darkening of his eyes.
‘Anything wrong?’ Joe was at her side, his hand sliding protectively around her waist. She looked up at him, swallowing the lump in her throat.
‘It seems I can’t do anything right.’ She spoke in a low voice. ‘I can’t please my old friend, I can only upset his wife! I envy her, Joe, she’s big with her baby and here am I unable to give you the baby that we both want. I’m a failure, Joe. Why can’t I accomplish what other women do so easily?’
‘Don’t let it eat away at you, Llinos,’ Joe said softly. ‘That way lies madness.’ He drew her close. ‘Cheer up, little Firebird, I think we might well try to work the miracle tonight because I can hardly keep my hands off you.’
But for once Llinos was not mollified by Joe’s words. She walked away from him and stood looking out of the window. The leafless branches of the trees poked dry fingers into the mist. The trees were barren just as she was barren. In the spring they would put forth buds and grow new leaves, but would she ever have her heart’s desire? She was beginning to doubt it.
Saul looked at Lily’s upturned face and saw that she was vulnerable. It seemed from her words that she would do anything to marry him. In turn, she could be very useful to him so he decided to play her along a little.
‘My dear Lily, I admit I was carried away with love for you the other night but you were eager for it too, my dear.’
‘Was I?’ The words were uncertain and he pressed home his advantage. ‘Of course, do you think me a bounder who would take the woman I love by force?’
‘Well, no, it’s just that I’ve never, never, well you know.’
He took her in his arms and held her close, his lips against her hair. ‘I do know that you are a nice girl, not a hussy like some.’ He held her away from him.
‘Look, Lily, let’s consider ourselves betrothed, shall we? I’d be honoured if you would wear the ring that was my mother’s, as a token of my love and devotion.’
He saw that Lily was pleased. He had no ring from his mother, she had left none or, if she had, his father had disposed of it. Tomorrow he would go and see the goldsmith, ask him to make up some sort of ring in gold, nothing too expensive. He bent and kissed her mouth; she smelled sweet and clean and her hair was soft to the touch. His hand strayed to her breast but she pushed him away.
‘No, Saul, there will be no more of that until we are married.’ She sounded prissy and momentarily he was angered.
‘All right, let’s have a little drink together, here in my lodging house. What do you say?’
Lily turned lovely eyes to look at him. ‘No thank you! I’ve had enough strong drink to last me for the rest of my life.’
‘All right,’ he said in resignation. ‘I’ll be good and wait.’ He saw her smile and knew he had played the right card. Suddenly, he found himself remembering her sweetness, the tiny breasts, the slender thighs. Lily was a lovely girl and a good artist by all accounts. It was true she had no background but what did that matter? She earned a good living and perhaps, just perhaps, she would make a very good wife. At least she was a Gentile like his mother, that was enough to recommend her.
‘Come along then, my shy little mouse,’ he said. ‘I’d better take you home to your solitary bed.’
As they left his lodging house and walked along the quiet roadway, Saul was already planning exactly what Lily must do for him before he would even consider marrying her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
‘WHY CAN’T YOU love me as you love her?’ Annabel’s voice was querulous but then she was large with child now and women had these strange moods, or so Eynon had been assured by his mother-in-law. Elizabeth had taken up residence in Swansea now, bringing with her from London a coach full of bags and baggage. Eynon wondered if he would ever get rid of her.
‘Did you hear me, why can’t you love me?’
Eynon sighed; it was a great pity that Annabel was not as amenable as Llinos. It was not that Llinos lacked fire, Joe’s pet name for her was apt indeed, it was just that she had a sunny nature, she was calm and serene even in the face of difficulties.
‘There, you see, you are thinking of her now!’ Annabel turned her face away from Eynon and he cursed himself for hurting her.
‘How do you know what I’m thinking, Annabel?’ he asked. ‘I was thinking of you, my dear girl.’
‘Oh no, your whole face lights up when you think of Llinos or when you speak of her. And when you see her I think you are going to fall down at her feet and worship her!’
His wife spoke with some justification and Eynon knew it. He leaned forward and patted her hand. ‘I am doing my best, can’t you see that, Annabel?’
‘Well then, your best is simply not good enough. Am I not as pretty as Llinos? I am younger than she is and at least I am able to bear my husband children, something she seems singularly unable to do.’
Eynon’s patience snapped. He rose to his feet and stood facing her, his face flushed with anger.
‘Will you stop nagging at me, woman! I did the right thing by you, I married you, gave you my name.’ He paced to and fro before the fireplace. ‘I have given my name to the child you carry, a child that might not even be mine. I am a fool, I accept that. You might well have slept with a hundred men for all I know. Now shut up or leave my house, do you understand, Annabel, do you understand?’
Annabel burst into tears, loud sobs racked her but, for once, Eynon was impervious to her mood. He slammed out of the house and strode towards the pottery. He had enough to think about there, heaven knows. The last of the white porcelain had been sold and now the pottery had reverted to making only earthenware. The goods were still selling in large quantities but the money Eynon had spent on experiments had drained his resources. He was only just managing to m
ake ends meet. Even the inheritance from his mother was gradually being dissipated. Now he had a wife to think of and all that entailed.
It was cold outside and Eynon started to walk along the river bank staring morosely into the swiftly flowing waters. He faced the fact that he was unhappy, discontented with his lot. He could never have Llinos, that much was clear, but he had been far better off as a single man. In the days before he married, he could come and go as he pleased. Now he was plagued by his wife’s jealous reaction to all he did. He was wrong if he left her alone for too long and he was wrong if he suggested she take part in the social life of Swansea. Nothing, he felt, was going to satisfy her.
The lights of the Castle Inn gleamed into the darkness like a beacon and Eynon made his way towards the open doorway. The sound of cheerful voices greeted him as he entered the large firelit room. He had come a long way since the days when he had been afraid of his shadow, a target for every bully in the streets of the town. He had filled out now, his shoulders were broad, his legs strong. He would never make a pugilist but his manner, his air of authority, was enough to deter anyone from taking liberties.
‘Evening, sir.’ The landlord came to the table and dabbed at it with a cloth, soaking up only a fraction of the beer that lay in pools in the indentations of the wood. ‘What can I get you?’
‘Some porter, landlord.’ Eynon smiled impulsively. ‘And some respite from a nagging wife.’
‘Aye, sir, that’s why most of my customers come in here and sit! I’ll be with you in a moment, sir.’
With the glass of gleaming porter before him, Eynon looked around the room. He did not expect to see anyone he knew, as he did not usually mix with the sort of company that frequented the Castle Inn. It was strange he had never made friends with anyone in the town. Indeed, the only true friends he had were Martin, Llinos and, by association, Joe. He was a loner, a man who needed no-one. But he did, he needed Llinos to love him and hold him and tell him he was the finest man in all the world.
