Dream Catcher

by Iris Gower

  Joe watched Marks disappear inside the inn and then followed him. Joe seated himself in a corner behind a large man and his group of equally large friends. He could see by bending his head forward but it was very unlikely he would be seen.

  Marks took a purse out of his pocket and handed it to a roughly dressed man. In return he accepted a loosely tied package and slipped it into his pocket. He did not speak a word, he rose swiftly to his feet and left the inn. After a moment Joe rose and moved to the bench which Marks had just vacated.

  ‘Buy you a mug of beer?’ Joe asked, studying the man’s rough exterior: the long beard, the grisly grey hair poking out of a battered hat. He was familiar and yet Joe could not place him.

  The man looked at him sourly. ‘Why, what do you want?’

  ‘Just some company,’ Joe said. ‘Not many folk around here like me very much.’

  The man stared at him, taking in his appearance. Foreigner, Indian. Husband to that brat Llinos.

  ‘Married to her up at the pottery, aren’t you?’

  ‘Joe Mainwaring.’ Joe did not hold out his hand but gave his order to the landlord who was avoiding the scowling faces of some of the other customers.

  ‘Serving murderers now, is it?’ a voice mumbled. Joe shrugged and smiled disarmingly. ‘You see what I mean? No-one wants to drink with me.’

  ‘Then why should I?’ The man looked round. ‘Should I drink with him, Ben?’ He addressed the old man in the corner.

  ‘A pair well met if you ask me,’ the old man said sourly. ‘You know I’ve got no time for you, Bert Cimla.’

  Joe realized who the man was: Bert Cimla, at best a thief and a liar and at worst a murderer. Gwen Savage had died at the man’s hand and he had gotten away with it.

  ‘Ah shut your gob!’ Cimla said. He looked at Joe again. ‘Go on, then, I’ll have a drink with you so long as you don’t expect one back. I’ve got no money.’

  The landlord brought the beer and took the coins Joe handed him. ‘Look, you’d better not stay here long,’ he said quietly. ‘Folks are riled up about that young girl who died at your place, that Meggie. Poor dab didn’t hardly have a chance to live.’

  Cimla looked shifty-eyed and Joe leaned forward. ‘Poisoned herself,’ he said. ‘Took medicine by the bottlefull instead of a small dose. Know anything about it?’

  ‘Shove off!’ Cimla said. ‘Hell’s teeth, I wouldn’t set foot within a mile of the pottery, not after the way I was treated by the Savage family.’

  ‘Oh yes,’ Joe spoke affably, ‘I heard you murdered Gwen Savage.’

  Cimla’s face flushed to the roots of his tangled hair. ‘That’s a lie,’ he said. ‘The silly cow fell, she was always falling. Looked after her, I did, and that brat of a girl of hers. Fat lot of thanks I got for it.’

  He made to rise to his feet but Joe caught him by the greasy lapels of his coat. ‘Oh, no, not so fast. What deal were you doing with Saul Marks?’

  Cimla looked round but no-one was inclined to help, though most watched the proceedings with interest.

  ‘Don’t know what you mean,’ Cimla blustered. ‘I talk to anybody, me, that’s why I’m talking to you.’

  Joe shook him. ‘I want to know what you were selling to Marks. Don’t deny it, I saw him handing you some money.’

  ‘It was just a parcel of fish.’ Cimla’s voice had become a whine. ‘So I do a bit of poaching, that’s not going to hurt anyone is it?’

  Joe shoved him back in his chair. ‘Pretty small fish. You wouldn’t know the truth if it hit you in the face.’

  ‘Landlord!’ Cimla said. ‘Are you going to let this . . . this foreigner treat your customers this way? I’m a regular, mind, I shouldn’t have to be pushed around by the likes of him.’

  ‘Aye,’ old Ben called from the corner. ‘We haven’t much time for the likes of Bert Cimla but he is one of us, so take a walk, righto?’

  The landlord was at Joe’s side. ‘Things are going to get ugly, you’d best go while the going’s good.’

  Joe rose to his feet and stared around the assorted customers. Without exception they looked away, avoiding his direct stare.

  ‘I’m going, I’ll get no more out of this piece of rubbish,’ he said. As he made for the door, a beer mug was thrown, it caught him on the back of his head. Joe turned in a swift movement.

  ‘Anyone who wants to take me on, man to man, stand up now.’ No-one moved. Joe shook his head and left the inn, anger flowing through his veins like wine. He walked towards home, trying to concentrate his thoughts on the exchange between Cimla and Marks. There could not possibly be any medication left, not unless someone else had made it up. Suddenly he was icy cold. He would have to check everything that was cooked, everything to be eaten or drunk. Otherwise, there would be another death in Pottery Row.

  Over the next few days Maura went out with Watt as often as they could both manage it. He was a handsome man, younger than she was, but so kind, so gentle. It was a balm to her damaged pride to be seen with him. She did not love him, she would always love Binnie, however much of a rat he had turned out to be. She still felt a savage anger when she thought of her husband with another woman but then, she reasoned, he had never been a real husband, not to her.

  She smiled as she thought of Watt; she enjoyed his company, loved his sense of humour. He was thoughtful and kind and he seemed to enjoy being with her. She was feeling better than she had done in years, released somehow from the chains of gloom that had hung round her for so long. She sang old, familiar Irish songs as she went about her work and even Eynon noticed the change in her.

  ‘What’s come over you, Maura?’ Eynon seemed to have aged since the death of his wife. He spent a great deal of time with his child and the only other companion he had was Father Martin.

  His mother-in-law was still living in the house but she seemed to have changed too. She was quieter, her clothes were more suitable to a woman her age. She no longer rouged her cheeks and it was obvious that she loved her granddaughter dearly.

  ‘I’ve just found a friend, that’s all,’ she said as she counted the linen napkins and placed them in the sideboard drawer. She looked at Eynon. ‘I know I’ve lost Binnie for ever and I’ve accepted it at last. I’m not going to waste any more time fretting for him. I mean to get on with my own life from now on.’

  ‘About time, too,’ Eynon said. ‘You are a good-looking woman, Maura, and I have seen you blossom lately into an even more attractive woman. I understand exactly how you feel about Binnie. I’m in the same position. I’ll never possess the woman I love.’

  Maura realized he was talking about Llinos. A wash of pity engulfed her. Eynon was so lost now, so alone. It was a great pity he could not forget Llinos and meet someone else more worthy of him.

  Maura’s resentment towards Llinos had tempered with the years, although she would never see why everyone else thought the woman so special. Eynon’s next words startled her from her thoughts.

  ‘I am thinking of selling the pottery,’ he said. ‘I have lost my enthusiasm for it.’ He smiled. ‘I never was very keen on it anyway.’ He must have seen the consternation in her eyes because he hastened to reassure her. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be keeping on this house and even if I do move out, you and the rest of the staff will come with me.’

  She swallowed hard. ‘Thank you, sir.’ She finished her task and left the room, her thoughts in a whirl. At least now she had someone to talk things over with. She had Watt and even if he was only offering friendship, she would grasp it with both hands. She glanced out of the window at the gathering darkness. Soon she would be meeting him; they would talk and laugh and she would forget, if only for a time, that she was a woman deserted and humiliated by her husband. She could be a person again, a woman again.

  ‘I tell you he’s on to something,’ Cimla said in the whining voice that grated on Saul’s ears. ‘The man saw me give you the parcel and take money for it.’

  ‘So what did you tell him?’ Saul forced himself to
appear calm. There was no telling what the man would do if he sensed any feeling of panic.

  ‘Said it was fish,’ Cimla said. ‘Can’t I come in? It’s damn cold standing here on the step.’

  ‘No you can’t come in, we shouldn’t be seen together any more, at least not for a time. In any case, I’ve got visitors.’

  ‘Oh aye, that bit of skirt you’re sleeping with, is it?’

  Saul resisted the urge to thump the man’s slack mouth. ‘That bit of skirt happens to be my intended,’ he said.

  ‘Well then, more fool you.’ Cimla turned away. ‘All right, I’ll keep out of your way but make sure nothing comes back to me. I’m not taking the blame for no murder.’

  Saul slammed the door with necessary force and turned back into the warmth of the house. Upstairs Lily was sitting on the bed wearing only her shift. The ring on her finger gleamed brightly in the light from the candle as she turned her hand to look at it.

  ‘You’ve got to marry me now, haven’t you, Saul?’ she asked in her little-girl voice. ‘Us telling folks we were courting that night.’

  ‘Lily, there’s no “have to” about it. I want to marry you, you know that.’ He sat beside her, his arm around her shoulder, his hand searching for her breast. He felt her shift a little and smiled to himself. He was getting to know little Lily, she was not a passionate woman. She allowed him to take her whenever he wanted and that was fine by him; he did not relish having a woman who made demands on him between the sheets. To the contrary, Lily’s apathy excited him. Her docile acceptance of what he did pleased him. It wasn’t right that a woman should enjoy it, only whores liked bedding a man, whores like that Polly. He would not touch her even if she paid him, not now he had his Lily where he wanted her.

  ‘Pity that girl died,’ he said, unbuttoning the bodice of Lily’s shift. ‘Bit inconvenient all round. You must have frightened her too much.’ He laughed cruelly. ‘It seems you have become as ruthless as me.’ He pushed her back on the bed. ‘Let me have you, Lily. I want you very much tonight, can’t you feel it?’

  He pushed himself against her and she sighed. ‘All right then, you know I can never say no to you.’ She closed her eyes as he removed her shift and, taking his fill, he stared down at her pale body. She was small-breasted but her hips were well rounded and her legs were beautiful. He ran his hand over the flat white belly and saw her shiver. He smiled, knowing it was not passion that drove her. That was all to the good.

  ‘Don’t worry, darling,’ he said. ‘I’ll enjoy this enough for the both of us.’

  Later they sat and talked, seated beside the fire. ‘What shall we do now, Saul?’ Lily asked. It was gratifying the way she deferred to him in all things. His lust sated, the medicine bottles tucked away in the drawer, Saul felt the world belonged to him.

  ‘I’ve got an even greater motive for doing away with the old man than I thought,’ he said, knowing that Lily would share the avarice that he felt when he told her his news. ‘The old bastard has other land, land he has never spoken about, land enough to buy me just what I want.’

  Lily’s eyes gleamed greedily in the firelight. ‘Tell me!’ she begged, clasping her hands together like a child about to have a treat.

  ‘I’m planning to buy myself a pottery.’ He was triumphant. He saw her look up at him with adoration in her eyes.

  ‘You are going to buy the Savage place?’ she asked, leaning towards him. He fondled her hair, feeling an affection for her that he had never felt for anyone in his life. She was like the other half of him, as bad and as cunning as he was.

  ‘No, not the Savage Pottery,’ he said. ‘The big one, the Tawe Pottery. When I get going, I’ll make it so successful that the Mainwarings, if there are any of them left in Swansea, will have to go under.’

  ‘Saul, you’re so clever!’ Lily kissed him in an uncharacteristic mood of affection and Saul laughed down at her.

  ‘You’re so pretty, so tempting that I think I must take you to bed again, my little love.’ Lily sighed but acquiesced, slipping onto the bed and waiting for him, her eyes closed. Saul smiled. They were going to make a great team he and Lily, between them they would one day own the whole of Swansea.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  ‘I THOUGHT YOU were in love with Melia. We all thought you were in love with her, even Melia herself.’ Josephine was not looking at John. She stared out across the porch, apparently studying the stars with great interest.

  ‘I know that’s the impression I gave,’ John said. ‘I suppose I was just flirting with her, being nice. I didn’t realize I would fall in love with any of you girls. Marriage was the furthest thing from my mind when I came out here.’

  ‘Was?’ Josephine still did not look at him. He sensed that she was tense, her shoulders were stiff, her knuckles gleaming white in the light from the lamp on the wall. He felt more daring and moved closer to her, trying to take her hand in his. She resisted him and he knew he would have to eat more humble pie if he was to get anywhere with her.

  ‘Look, I’m a young man, I’m not used to women,’ he said. ‘As you yourself said, it’s like showing a child cookies in a jar. You just don’t know which one you would prefer.’

  She looked at him then, her eyes large. ‘Until you have tried them?’

  ‘No, of course not!’ John protested. ‘I have never even kissed Melia, I promise you.’ He shifted uncomfortably, wondering what Jo’s sister had been saying. ‘My intentions towards you are honourable, Josephine, please believe me.’

  ‘I believe you.’ Her voice held the chill of a woman displeased. ‘That does not mean to say I want to marry you. No, if you want to become a McCabe so badly, honey, then forget me, I’m simply not interested.’

  Her words were a shock; John had not expected to be rebuffed so soundly and it was a feeling he did not much like. He felt angry and humiliated but he managed to keep his voice even when he replied.

  ‘Thank you for being so honest, Jo.’ He sighed. ‘I’ll soon be out of your way.’

  She did not look at him. ‘Going home?’

  ‘You know I’m not going home. I’m going to Albany to sort out the new business for your father. I need to find a decent site for the pottery and then, I suppose, we shall start to build.’ He paused. ‘So you see, Jo, marriage is not a necessity. I will make a career for myself here with or without a McCabe as a wife.’

  ‘I’m sure you’ll be back here from time to time.’ Josephine spoke as though she had not heard him. ‘You’ll have plenty of opportunity to pursue my sister then.’

  ‘You’re wrong,’ he said flatly. ‘I have already told Melia I’m in love with you. If I can’t have you then I won’t marry anyone.’

  She pulled her shawl around her shoulders. ‘That would be a shame.’ She turned to face him and looked him up and down as though he were an animal she intended to purchase. ‘You are a fine set-up man. Good shape, good legs, strong arms and shoulders. Perhaps a bit immature, but there you are, life has been easy for you so far, hasn’t it?’

  He caught her arms, gripping them so tightly that she winced. ‘You think so?’ His voice was hard. ‘Perhaps you should climb down from your high horse and learn a little of poverty and humiliation and what it does to a man before you judge me so readily.’ He released her and cleared the steps of the porch in one bound, striding out into the darkness, his mind seething, his eyes filling with silly tears. Were they tears of anger, of self-pity, he wondered, or of genuine distress that Josephine had refused him? He was not quite sure. All he knew was that he was hurting and it was not a pleasant feeling.

  ‘What’s upset him?’ Binnie came to stand beside Josephine on the porch. From within the house he could hear the sounds of laughter, the laughter of his children, and a warmth filled him. He was grateful that he had come here to America, had met Hortense and married her. It was true that he was sometimes filled with guilt and regret about his past but then no-one had a perfect life with no regrets to mar it.

  ‘I’m af
raid I did,’ Josephine replied. ‘He asked me to marry him and I turned him down.’

  ‘Oh?’ Binnie tried to see her expression in the light from the porch lantern but her face was in shadow. ‘I thought you admired John.’

  ‘Oh, I do.’ Josephine turned to look at him. ‘I more than admire him, honey, but he can’t think that every woman he meets is just waiting to fall into his arms.’ She bent her white neck archly. ‘What comes easily no man values, haven’t you learned that yet?’

  Binnie thought about it. Perhaps that was what had been wrong with his marriage. Maura had wanted him so badly, wanted to be his wife more than anything, and he had been a reluctant bridegroom.

  ‘Yes, I suppose I have,’ he said. He had never really believed he would win Hortense. He had approached her in trepidation, fearing her scorn, even her laughter. Now that they were married, he loved her more than ever, valued her highly. ‘On the other hand perhaps I’ve just grown up, Jo, and realize what real love is at last.’

  ‘At last?’ Josephine said. ‘Have you had many lovers then, Binnie?’

  ‘Of course not.’ He laughed. ‘Well, perhaps one or two. A man has to sow his wild oats, mind.’

  ‘And a woman needs to remain good and virginal. Do you think that’s fair?’

  ‘I think that’s just the way it is.’ Binnie touched her shoulder.’ Jo, just don’t turn John away because of pride, you could be giving up your one chance of real love, real happiness.’

  Josephine turned away from him. ‘Go in to your wife and family and leave me to sort out my own life, brother-in-law.’

  He left her on the porch and returned to the warmth and light of the McCabe household. He was a lucky man and his luck would last just so long as no-one from his past caught up with him.