Impatiently he turned and strode away. There was a mist before his eyes and anger surged through him even as he called himself a fool. Well, he should learn a lesson and leave Mary Jenkins strictly alone. They had no place in each other’s lives and the sooner he fixed that thought into his head the better. And yet as he strode through the darkening night, there was a strange feeling eating at the corners of his mind which not even to himself would he admit to be jealousy.
* * *
Inside the cottage it was cosy and warm and Mary looked up as Mali appeared in her kitchen doorway. ‘I’m getting a bit lonely in there,’ she said, but her smile belied her words. Mali was large with child, her eyes were shadowed with fatigue, yet there was a happiness about her that was plain to read in the contented curve of her mouth.
‘Sit down by there,’ Mary said quickly. ‘I was going to call you as soon as the meal was ready.’
Mali settled herself into a chair and leaned back sighing gently.
‘It’s a nice house, Mary, it has a lovely feel about it as though the people who lived here were happy.’
Mary smiled, absent-mindedly moving the cutlery. ‘Yes, I feel that too,’ she said. ‘I’m so grateful to Mark for finding the cottage for me. I think I was beginning to wear out my welcome at the Murphys’. It’s nice to have my own possessions around me again too.’
Mary knew Mali’s eyes were resting upon her and she continued to busy herself with the cutlery, but Mali would not be deterred.
‘And what about you, Mary?’ The question was light, softly spoken and Mary sank into her chair, staring at her hands.
‘Me, I’m a business woman, you should know that – I always have been.’ She shrugged. ‘With Billy likely to remain in prison for the rest of his days, there’s nothing else for me to look forward to except making as good a life for myself as I can.’ She met Mali’s eyes. ‘At any rate I can make sure I don’t end up in the poverty I was born to,’ she smiled. ‘Which brings me to rather an important matter. I was going to wait until after we’d eaten, but I might just as well give you this now.’ She rose and from the cupboard took a tin box, smiling in delight. ‘I’ve got your money, Mali! I said it would only be a loan, didn’t I?’
‘Oh, Mary! Sterling and I meant it as a gift, a thank you for running the laundry so well. I don’t want it back.’
‘But you must take it,’ Mary said earnestly. ‘I wouldn’t feel right if you didn’t.’
‘Well, we’ll see,’ Mali said. ‘Now put the box away and let’s eat, I’m starving.’
The meal was simple but Mary saw with satisfaction how much her friend enjoyed it.
‘This cawl is delicious,’ Mali said, breaking a piece of bread and with a mischievous smile dipping it into the soup that was thick with meat and vegetables. ‘Good thing Sterling isn’t here, he’d give me a good ticking-off for eating like a hoyden!’
Mary glanced at the clock ticking on the wall. ‘What time is he coming to fetch you? Not too early, I hope?’
Mali grimaced. ‘Well, he won’t be too late. He’s determined to look after me as though I am a china doll to be wrapped in cotton wool.’
Mary smiled. ‘I can see that you’re still as much in love with your husband as you ever were. You don’t know how lucky you are, Mali Llewelyn.’
‘Mali Richardson, if you please, I’m a respectably married woman.’ When Mali laughed, her whole face lit up and Mary didn’t wonder that Sterling took such good care of her. She was small and dainty – the direct opposite to herself, Mary thought ruefully.
‘Are you hoping for a girl this time?’ Mary took the soup bowls away and placed slices of lamb on a plate, garnishing the meat with tiny baked potatoes still in their jackets.
‘I’ll be like an overfed monster by the time I’ve finished,’ Mali protested, ‘and yes, I would like a daughter. But for now I’ll settle for some of those lovely Welsh cakes.’
‘Eat up!’ Mary said. ‘There’s two of you to feed, mind.’ She smiled at Mali but there was an ache in her throat. She envied her friend the happiness that radiated from her. Mali had changed, become more confident, her manner polished and her head held proudly. She was a woman loved and it showed.
‘Why are you staring at me? Have I grown two heads or something?’ Mali laughed softly, brushing back a wisp of dark hair that had escaped from the confining pins.
Mary smiled. ‘No, not grown two heads at all. I was just thinking that marriage and motherhood suit you down to the ground.’
Mali leaned forward earnestly, her elbows on the table. ‘And making a career for yourself suits you too. I’ve never seen you looking so beautiful.’ She paused. ‘It’s almost as though you’ve been sleeping and have woken up – there’s a light about you somehow that wasn’t there before.’ She shrugged. ‘I expect I’m talking a lot of nonsense. Let’s have some Welsh cakes now, shall we?’
Mary moved about the room, bending over the fire to make a pot of tea, glad of an excuse for the sudden heat in her cheeks. Mali was too perceptive, she saw change but did not know the reason for it although Mary did. Ever since she had met Brandon she was a different person; it was as Mali had said, as if she had come out of a long sleep.
By the time Sterling called to take Mali home, she was flushed with laughter. She took her husband’s arm and looked up into his face and the joy in her eyes was painful for Mary to see. She felt like an outsider, staring in at a fairy-tale world in which she could have no part.
‘What do you think, Sterling?’ Mali leaned against her husband’s shoulder. ‘Mary wants to give us the money back, tell her she must keep it!’
Sterling rubbed his hand through the thick golden hair and smiled at Mary. He was so handsome, it was no wonder Mali was head over heels in love with him, Mary thought.
‘You must invest it, Mary,’ Sterling said reasonably. ‘Plough it back into the business and if you feel you owe us anything then, give us a percentage of the profit.’
Mary stared at him doubtfully. ‘But I’m in a position to repay you right now,’ she said. ‘I was grateful for the loan, but I can’t presume to keep it.’
Sterling touched her arm. ‘This is business, Mary. I can see you are going to be a big success and I want a part in it. That’s not charity, that’s sound sense.’
‘All right,’ Mary said at last, ‘consider yourselves shareholders as from now. I’ll see a solicitor about it as soon as possible and keep it all above board.’
Mali leaned forward and kissed Mary’s cheek. ‘As if you would ever think of cheating us, don’t be silly!’
Sterling opened the door and a flurry of snowy air blew into the house. ‘Mary’s right,’ he said. ‘Always be businesslike, that’s the way.’
Mary watched the hansom cab drive away into the darkness and then returned to sit before the fire, staring at the flames, her hopes high as she planned what to do with the money she had saved so religiously. There were all sorts of possibilities open to her now that it was still hers to use.
She locked up the house conscientiously, throwing the bolts across and then drawing the curtains over the windows. She had been nervous of being spied upon ever since Gerwin Price had walked so easily into the kitchen of the house in Canal Street.
She washed the dishes and put them neatly away, then settled to some mending. She grimaced as she restitched a hem in one of her petticoats; far better if she had given the garment to Muriel to sew on the machine.
Her hands fell idle in her lap but her thoughts were racing, making the blood pound in her head. What if she were to buy a store, open up her very own shop? She could sell everything from underwear to fruit and vegetables in the same building and she would have no difficulty in finding people to work for her.
The money Mali had insisted on investing would more than cover a down payment. But then property on the scale that she envisaged buying would cost far more than she could afford. A smile suddenly curved Mary’s mouth as she put aside her sewing. ‘That’s a ve
ry good idea,’ she said out loud, ‘and it would just serve the Cooperative Movement right!’
Chapter Twenty-Six
It was Christmas and Sweyn’s Eye was covered by a benign layer of white that hid the ugliness of the town, beautifying even the scattering of buildings that sprawled along the banks of the river Swan.
Rhian dressed for the outdoors. Her fingers obeyed her, lacing up her boots and fastening buttons, but it was as though they had a life of their own and were not a part of her.
‘Come on, merchi.’ Heath stood in the doorway, coat collar turned up, a white silk scarf tucked in at the throat. His cap was pulled down at a jaunty angle over his brow so that Rhian could not see his eyes, but she heard the concern in his voice. He came closer to her and took her hand and when she stared down at her fingers lying within his it was as though she was not part of the scene but an onlooker, standing outside herself. She felt nothing, not even the warmth of his hand curling in hers.
‘Auntie Agnes is as excited as a child to be going to Mary’s for dinner.’ Heath’s voice was falsely hearty; he was trying to understand, to be patient, but he did not know of the horrors that haunted her imagination.
‘All right.’ She spoke slowly like someone waking from sleep. ‘I’m ready.’
Heath put his hands on her shoulders and she looked away from him, wincing slightly. He spoke softly as though to a frightened dumb creature. ‘Can’t you talk to me, Rhian? What’s been wrong with you these past weeks, what’s happened?’ He tipped up her face to look into her eyes and Rhian sighed heavily.
‘The hansom cab is waiting,’ she said and her voice was light, without substance.
‘It can wait!’ Heath said angrily. He drew her close to him and rested his chin upon her head. ‘Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong? You’re so thin and pale lately, I just don’t know what to make of you.’
Rhian moved restlessly. ‘We must go, Auntie will be wondering where we are.’
Heath shook his head, admitting defeat. ‘If you won’t speak to me then I can’t make you, but I’m going to see Dr Thomas about you. There’s something wrong and I mean to find out what it is.’
A small flicker of animation touched Rhian’s features. ‘Mind your own business, Heath,’ she said. ‘I don’t want any interference in my life, don’t you understand?’
Heath led the way out into the cold air without another word and Rhian looked around her at the white-covered trees, branches pointing starkly towards an overcast sky that promised more snow. The world was frozen just as she was inside, as she had been ever since… Her thoughts veered away from a subject too painful to even approach and she sank into the seat beside her aunt, the cold leather striking chill to her bones.
‘Goodness, I feel like a child at a Sunday school outing,’ Agnes said cheerfully. ‘Wasn’t it kind of Mary to ask us over to her new house? I’m just dying to see it.’ Rhian felt the cab jerk into motion and she stared out of the window pretending an interest in the countryside as an excuse for not answering her aunt’s question. She was aware of Heath sitting opposite her, a confusion of brightly coloured parcels in his arms. He frowned and Rhian glanced away from him quickly, reading the reproof in his expression.
Mary’s house stood under the folding hills surrounded by ghostly trees, looking like a Christmas card. Rhian dimly heard Auntie Agnes croon with delight as Heath helped her through the laborious task of descending from the cab. Mary was at the door smiling with pleasure and Rhian noticed without real interest that she looked beautiful. She was dressed in a gown of rich ruby-red velvet with white lace ruffles at the collar, and her hair was upswept into glossy waves. She looked like a queen, Rhian thought, lovely and untouchable.
She shivered even as she moved into the warmth of the house behind her aunt, who was laughing uproariously at something Heath had said. Rhian stood still, looking around her at the glistening holly leaves rich with berries and the bright fire that roared in the open grate, but she still felt cold.
‘Rhian, is your arm quite better now?’ Mary was taking her shawl from her shoulders but Rhian held tightly to the heavy flannel, knowing that without it she would feel exposed. Mary looked puzzled. ‘What’s wrong Rhian? You look so pale and thin, not sick are you, cariad?’
Heath took his sister’s arm and led her away. ‘Put the kettle on, there’s a good girl, let’s all have some hot toddies, shall we?’ Rhian watched with jaundiced eyes as Heath bent to talk to his sister. He was confiding in her, telling her about Rhian’s strange behaviour, she knew it as surely as if she could hear the words. Mary glanced over at her and then looked quickly away, nodding her agreement to something Heath was saying. Rhian sat stiffly on a chair and stared into the flames of the fire, wishing she had pleaded a headache and stayed at home. But then Heath or Aunt Agnes would have insisted on sending for the doctor, she thought wearily. Why couldn’t folk just leave her alone?
Rhian endured the parcel opening and the huge dinner of roast chicken and stuffing without too much difficulty, but when Aunt Agnes went to the piano and began playing carols, she felt she could not bear to be shut in the room a moment longer. She rose to her feet and moved to the door, unaware that Mary was watching her carefully.
‘Off to look at the garden, are you, Rhian?’ Mary said gently. ‘Be careful out there, it’s slippery, mind.’
Rhian nodded and let herself outside, breathing softly, her heart feeling as though it was going to stop altogether. She looked around at the bushes and trees that remained still and silent as though frozen for ever, and wondered would they bloom in spring as they did every year or had the earth simply died?
Then she left the garden and moved towards the pond in the shelter of the trees, staring at its glassy surface as though it offered her comfort. It would be so easy to slip beneath the ice, to feel the rest of her freeze by inches as her mind and spirit had already done. She moved towards the edge of the pond and her fingers rootled in the stiff grass to find a stone. She beat at the ice until it cracked and then she pulled away slices of it, making a hole big enough for a person to slip through. Rhian stood looking at the green water for a long time, unaware that her hands were as cold as the ice they had been breaking.
‘Rhian!’ Mary’s voice broke into her thoughts. ‘What on earth are you doing out here, you’ll catch your death of cold.’
Mary took her arm and led her away from the edge of the pond, staring down into her face in concern. ‘Won’t you tell me what’s wrong, merchi?’ she pleaded softly. ‘Something terrible has happened to you, I just know it has. Is it anything to do with Heath?’
Rhian shook her head dumbly. Her lips were pressed close together, and she could not even think of the horrors that had befallen her, let alone speak of them to Mary.
‘Come on inside then and have a warm drink. Look, your poor fingers are blue with the cold, silly girl!’ Mary’s arm around her shoulder propelled Rhian back towards the house where the sound of voices rose and fell to the tinkling accompaniment of the piano.
Rhian sat in the corner and wrapped her arms around her body, wanting only to return to her own room where she could lie in bed and stare at the green-painted wall. She resented the prodding and prying of other people who only wanted her to relive the nightmare she would sooner forget.
Visitors came and went. Rhian stared without interest at Sterling Richardson, who had married a copperman’s daughter.
‘It’s a girl, Mary!’ he said excitedly. ‘We’ve got a daughter.’
Why were some women’s lives blessed and others like herself – cursed, Rhian wondered.
When Mary asked Aunt Agnes if she would like to stay for mince pies and a drink of porter, Rhian would have cried had she been capable of tears. She sank further back into her chair, refusing the wine and tried to shut herself off from the festivities around her. She had no reason to rejoice for she was an outcast, not worthy to associate with decent company. How they would all recoil from her in horror if they knew what had h
appened. Even Mary with her kind eyes and strong mouth would shake her head and somehow blame her. She was a bad girl, little better than a floosie.
‘Come on, have some porter.’ Mary held out a glass and reluctantly Rhian took it, sipping it obediently though she did not even like the taste.
She was relieved when at last Auntie Agnes, yawning widely, declared it was time she was going home to bed.
‘That’s all right, Auntie,’ Heath said, smiling. ‘I told the cab to call for us at about eight o’clock and it’s nearly that now.’
‘It’s been a lovely Christmas party,’ Agnes said cheerfully. ‘There’s good it is to see a girl like you getting on so well. Not thinking of marriage yet, are you?’ She raised her eyebrows archly, but Mary simply laughed.
Aunt Agnes kissed Mary’s cheek. ‘Goodbye then, and a Happy New Year to you, my dear.’
Rhian was the first to settle into the cold seat of the cab. When she looked at the lantern swinging outside the window, the lights seemed to dim and shimmer before her eyes. She felt ill and weak and she wished Mary had not come along just as she had been about to find solace in the cold waters.
She was hardly aware of the drive home; her aunt was snoring gently at her side and Heath seemed to have given up the struggle to make conversation.
The silence of the familiar house was a welcome balm and Rhian hurried upstairs to her room without a word. She felt a small pang of guilt as she heard Heath help her aunt up the stairs, but she quickly silenced it as she began to undress. It was an ordeal to draw off her petticoats and she held her breath until her nightgown was safely over her head. The cold crisp cotton felt scratchy to her skin as she did up the buttons to the neck. She brushed out her hair, careless of the pins that still gripped some of the curls, and then crept into bed and lay staring at the shadows on the wall, trying to clear her mind of everything and to coax the elusive sleep that always evaded her.
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