Suddenly she became aware that her door was slowly opening and sat up, her heart thumping as she clutched the blankets to her thin body. A tall figure was framed in the doorway; he seemed strange and menacing and Rhian felt her blood turn to ice. It was Gerwin Price, she thought in panic, he had somehow invaded the privacy of the house just as he had invaded her body. She opened her mouth to scream and then, in the light from the lamp, she saw that it was Heath standing looking down at her, his hand held out to her as though to comfort her.
‘Rhian, why are you so frightened? Let me help you,’ he said softly. As he sat on the edge of the bed the springs creaked and Rhian moved back from him, her eyes wide.
‘Don’t touch me, please don’t touch me, Heath,’ she said tonelessly. His hand dropped on to the patchwork, his shoulders seemed to sag. She could almost feel sorry for him, which was ironic when only a few short weeks ago she had longed for him to ask her to be his wife.
‘Is it anything I’ve done?’ Heath persisted. ‘Have I hurt you without knowing it? Come on, cariad, you can tell me.’
She shook her head dumbly. How could she tell him what vile things had been done to her, he with his fine clean masculine frame and his honest eyes. He would feel the need for revenge and then perhaps he would be hurt too. No, this weight on her mind that was bearing her down could not be shared, least of all with Heath Jenkins.
‘Rhian, you’re fading away before my eyes,’ Heath tried once more. ‘I know there is something worrying you, now be a good girl and tell me. I won’t be shocked whatever it is, mind.’
The silence lengthened and he sighed. ‘Is it my fault? I know you were angry seeing me with Carrie, but perhaps I can try to explain that to you.’
Rhian shook her head slowly. ‘Will you just leave me to go to sleep, Heath?’ she asked pitifully and on an impulse, he took her in his arms, cradling her close. She was rigid, her hands pushing at his chest, her back arched away from him as if his very touch repulsed her. Heath rose from the bed defeated and moved towards the door, pausing with his fingers on the handle. ‘Well, if ever you want to talk, then come to me, do you understand? I’ll never be too busy to listen to you.’
When he had gone, Rhian lay down and faced the wall and wished that she could find the relief of tears, but her eyes were dry and they burned in her head like coals in a fire. She was damned to hell on earth, she thought desperately and there could be no escape except in death.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The dawning of the new year brought torrential rain, washing the streets clear of snow and casting a gloom over Sweyn’s Eye. It was no longer picturesque, a Christmas card world of silent whiteness; it was a place where the streets were grey and windswept and the folks remained indoors, the smoke from many chimneys evidence of the fires roaring in the hearth. But Mary was abroad regardless of the inclement weather. She had a goal in mind and nothing, not even the teeming rain, was going to deter her.
She looked at many buildings, some on the outskirts of the town, one or two hugging the dockside, but at last her search was rewarded and she found just the premises she required. As she walked through the cold empty rooms, she furnished them in her imagination, placing curtains at the windows and carpets on the floor. There would be chairs, elegant and upright enough for the customer not to be too comfortable. And occasional tables, discreetly placed so that there would be need only for the minimum of traditional counters. It would be almost like a large comfortable home, Mary thought in satisfaction.
The price of the building made her gasp, but she had enough to make a down payment and that was all that was required for now.
She took out a list of names from her bag and stared at it with a smile curving her lips. Each one of the people on it belonged to the Cooperative Movement and heading the list was Mrs Asquith. But first, Mary intended to see her lawyer.
Gregory Irons was not a man Mary would care to have as a friend, but he was sharp and efficient and he could make sure that the property became hers without delay, which was all that she required of him.
His office was well carpeted and a cheerful fire roared in the grate. ‘I shall refrain from asking why you need such a large building, Miss Jenkins,’ he said smoothly, smiling at her from over the polished surface of his desk. ‘But I will need a certain amount of cash as a down payment, I’m sure you understand.’
Mary nodded. ‘I shall pay a substantial deposit, the rest of the money to be handed over on completion of the sale.’
Gregory Irons looked at the money Mary had taken from her bag, transferring the notes smoothly to a drawer in his desk. He wrote out a receipt with a flourish of his pen and handed it to Mary.
‘I should have the matter concluded quite soon,’ he said. ‘There appear to be no other offers for the building, so far.’
Mary forced a smile. ‘There will be no other offers, will there, Mr Irons? I’m sure we understand each other.’
He rose. ‘I think we understand each other perfectly, Miss Jenkins.’
Mary took a cab to Singleton Street, as it was still raining and she did not wish to be at a disadvantage when she saw Mrs Asquith. Her visit was not a welcome one and Mary was forced to sit in the chilly hallway on a hard-backed chair, waiting until the lady of the house saw fit to put in an appearance. But she would be patient and bide her time and force herself to remember that Mrs Asquith would be invaluable to her.
She was thoroughly chilled by the time she was called to the drawing room. A huge fire roared in the hearth and the lady of the house looked up from her writing desk, her face a mask of coldness.
‘I can’t think why you wish to see me, Miss Jenkins,’ Mrs Asquith said impatiently. ‘But I should be obliged if you would state your business as briefly as possible.’
Mary smiled charmingly. ‘I have a proposition to put to you,’ she said. ‘I have acquired a building on a prime site and I’m giving you first refusal of renting part of my premises from me.’
Mrs Asquith looked at her in surprise as Mary continued to speak. ‘Only a select few will have the privilege of occupying a spot in the new emporium, Mr Phillpot for example.’ Mary did not stop to explain that she had not approached Alfred Phillpot, nor was she likely to do so.
Mrs Asquith put her hand to the long jade necklace that hung over her ample bosom. ‘Well, in that case, let’s sit down and talk this over like businesswomen, my dear.’
Mary took a seat near the warmth of the fire and stared into the flames smiling in satisfaction. The first part of her plan had been the hardest and it seemed that now she was well on her way to achieving her goal.
For Mary the next few days proved to be busy ones. One by one she visited the people on her list and soon the outer portions of the large building were taken by prospective tenants, all of whom had eagerly agreed to pay a large lump sum on signing the agreements drawn up by Gregory Irons. The only person unaware of what was happening under his very nose was Alfred Phillpot, and it amused Mary to imagine his reaction when he found out that he was left out on a limb.
Gregory Irons was all smiles when Mary paid him yet another visit, and he took the money she handed to him with a satisfied smile.
‘I have to admire your nerve, Miss Jenkins,’ he said dryly. ‘You buy an enormous building and by renting out parts of it have other people footing the bill.’
Mary returned his smile. ‘Yes, they are all satisfied customers, but this way I keep the upper hand.’ She rose from her chair. ‘Thank you for your efforts on my behalf, Mr Irons. I’m sure we shall be able to do business again in the not-too-distant future.’
As Mary left the chambers, she failed to see Dean Sutton step out of his motor car. He watched as Mary walked down the street, her head held high in her usual proud manner and even now, he ached for her. In the lawyer’s office he took a seat and asked the question that was uppermost in his mind. ‘What was Mary Jenkins doing here?’
Gregory Irons looked at him in surprise. ‘You know my clients’ af
fairs are confidential,’ he said, a little affronted by the American’s brashness.
‘Balderdash! I pay you to watch everything that goes on in this town. Now come on, what did she want?’
Gregory Irons leaned back in his chair, pressing the tips of his fingers together. ‘As a matter of fact, the young lady has just concluded a very good deal.’ He could not help but smile. ‘She bought a huge building with only a few hundred pounds to put down on it, then she went round renting out parts of the building until the entire thing was paid for. She’s a very clever lady, that one, even though she is from the lower orders.’
Dean leaned forward in his chair. ‘I want to know every move that woman makes, do you understand?’ His eyes were hard and angry and Gregory Irons longed to tell him to go to hell, but good sense prevailed: Dean Sutton was a very generous man.
‘I shall do that, Mr Sutton,’ he said smoothly. ‘Now, what else can I do for you?’
‘It’s about Billy Gray,’ Dean said more calmly. ‘I think it’s time his case was reopened.’
* * *
Mary strode along Wind Street and stopped outside Sutton’s Drapers shop. The bell pinged on the door as she pushed it open and Mrs Greenaway shuffled in from the back room.
‘Why, Miss Jenkins, it’s you. Not looking for your old job back, are you?’
Mary shook her head, smiling. ‘No, I’m not after work, I’m offering it. Where are the girls?’
Mrs Greenaway rubbed her hands on her apron and leaned towards the open door that led into the kitchen.
‘Nerys, Joanie, there’s someone here to see you!’
Mary sat on the upright chair and leaned on the counter smiling as the two girls entered the shop, knowing that in Nerys and Joanie she had two ready-trained drapery assistants. ‘How would you like to earn more wages?’ she said softly.
After only a week, the part of the building that Mary intended to use as her own store had begun to take shape. She employed men to paint the woodwork and on the lure of a bonus they worked like beavers.
Muriel had spent hours sewing curtains and covers, above which chandeliers hung from the ceiling like fairy lights. The floors were carpeted with jute, which had the virtue of being both strong and cheap. It was hard work, but Mary was exhilarated by it and she gained an added satisfaction in seeing the other parts of the building receiving similar treatment from her tenants.
She had taken care that not one site was let to any shopkeeper who would be in direct competition with herself. There were greengrocers and butchers, milliners and shoemakers, everything a customer could wish for all in the same building.
At the beginning of the third week, Mary had a visit from Alfred Phillpot. The little man was virtually bristling, his cheeks red and angry and his mouth twitching.
‘Could you spare me a little of your time, Miss Jenkins?’ he asked abruptly and smiling sweetly she led him into the newly decorated office with its imposing leather-topped desk and polished swivel chairs. She faced him across the room and could see that he was lost for words.
‘I think it’s time that the Cooperative Movement stopped fighting me, don’t you, Mr Phillpot?’ she said quietly. Both of them were aware that it was not the Cooperative Movement but Alfred Phillpot himself who had been the cause of all the trouble. He moved to a chair and, unasked, sat down heavily. She placed her hands on the desk and leaned over towards him and he seemed to shrink visibly.
‘I have one site left,’ Mary said gently. ‘Would you like it, Mr Phillpot? The rent is very reasonable, mind.’ He gulped hard and Mary saw with amusement the struggle he was having not to damn her to hell.
At last he managed to speak. ‘May I have time to think it over, Miss Jenkins?’ He ran his finger round his collar as though it had suddenly grown too tight for him. Mary smiled.
‘Of course, but don’t take too long, there is a waiting list the length of my arm for prospective tenants.’ She stood up straight. ‘Don’t you think that “Mary Jenkins Buildings” is a good name for the place?’ She glanced at the man from the corner of her eye and he seemed about to have apoplexy. When he rose to his feet and took a thick wallet out of his pocket, Mary knew she had won.
* * *
The beginning of the new year seemed a time of confrontation for Mary, for shortly after she had talked with Alfred Phillpot, Dean Sutton came to see her. She heard the engine of his motor car as it chugged up the hill and had time to take off her apron and fold it away before opening the door.
‘What are you doing here?’ She held her head high, for she owed this man nothing. Dean removed his hat and stepped forward and Mary had no choice but to allow him inside the cottage.
‘You sure do take the biscuit for brass neck, honey.’ His voice was heavy with sarcasm. ‘You steal my employees from under my very nose and then ask me what I’m doing here as if I was some shoeshine boy.’
During the next few days, she was too busy working at the store and preparing for the opening to think much about Dean’s visit. She had a difficult task convincing Katie that she would make an excellent second in command, but at last she succeeded. It seemed that everything was going well and then a note was delivered to her by hand, unsigned, telling her curtly that Billy Gray had been released from prison.
Mary’s thoughts were in chaos so that she could not concentrate on the arranging of models or the displays of flowers in Grecian urns.
‘I’m going home, Nerys,’ she said. ‘You’ll be taking orders from Katie in my absence, remember.’
Katie followed her into the office. ‘Come on out with it, something’s bothering you as sure as God made little green shamrocks.’
Mary handed her the letter and looked at her levelly. ‘I should be filled with happiness and joy, but I no longer feel close to Billy and I don’t think I’ve ever been in love with him.’
Katie shrugged. ‘People change, and don’t I know more about that than most folks? Go home now, I’ll take care of everything, don’t you worry.’
Mary drew her thick woollen coat around her shoulders and pinned a velvet, wide-brimmed hat to her glossy hair. ‘I must go and see Billy, I’ll have to speak to him some time and it might as well be now as later.’
‘He’ll be at his auntie’s house for sure,’ Katie smiled. ‘He’ll be after seeing his sister and asking her about you.’
Mary hurried down the carpeted stairs and out into the street, knowing in her heart that she was afraid to look Billy in the face. She knew now what it was like really to love a man. All the same, face Billy she would. She must do everything in her power to help him, but there could be nothing more than friendship between them, ever.
Heath opened the door to her, looming above her tall and handsome, his eyes so like her own staring down at her.
‘You’ve heard that Billy’s home,’ he said. ‘Come on in, he’s sitting talking to Auntie Agnes drinking tea, a stunned look on his face as though none of this is really happening.’
Heath rested his hand on Mary’s arm. ‘I’m not prying and you can tell me to mind my own business if you like, but go easy on him – he’s had a rough time by the look of it.’
An awkward silence fell as Mary entered the parlour. Billy slowly put down his cup and rose to his feet, his eyes unreadable.
‘Billy!’ she spoke his name warmly. ‘It’s so good to see you home again.’ She put her hands on his thin shoulders and kissed his cheek and the harshness of tears blurred her eyes. She loved Billy, but in the same way as she loved Heath.
‘Isn’t it wonderful to see our boy freed from that awful place?’ Agnes smiled up from the comfort of her chair. ‘Put the kettle on again, Rhian and make Mary some tea. We’ve all got such a lot to talk about.’
Mary slipped her arm through Billy’s and felt that he was withdrawing from her. ‘How did it all happen?’ she asked quickly and he looked away from her.
‘It was all Delmai’s doing. Mrs Richardson got up a petition, believed in my innocence and Mr Dean got his
lawyers to work on the case – found new evidence, they said.’ He shrugged. ‘So now I’ve a free pardon.’ His voice was strange as though he was embarrassed, and there was something in his manner that Mary couldn’t understand.
‘Well, you know how pleased I am to see you again,’ she said softly.
Rhian carried the tray into the room and set it down on the table. Mary glanced at her; she was still very pale and there was no light in the blue eyes.
‘Aren’t you pleased to see Billy home again?’ Mary said, wondering if Rhian was feeling neglected. The girl nodded without speaking and sat in the corner, her hands twisted together in her lap.
‘I hear you’ve gone up in the world,’ Billy said. ‘Quite posh you are now.’
‘Well, I’ve gone into business if that’s what you mean, I’m not sure about being posh though.’ She forced herself to smile. ‘Anyway, let’s talk about you.’
Billy shook his head. ‘Nothing to say.’ There was an awkward silence and Mary looked down at her hands. She could scarcely talk about the issues uppermost in her mind, not with all the family sitting round.
‘How about a job in my shop?’ she said quietly. ‘I’m sure you could be a great help to me.’ His eyes stared at her, troubled, and Mary changed the subject quickly. ‘Let’s have that tea, shall we? I’m parched.’
Later, Billy walked with Mary to the tram terminus. His overcoat collar was high around his neck, his cap pulled down over his forehead. It was almost as though he thought of himself as a fugitive hiding from the world and Mary’s heart went out to him.
‘Mrs Richardson has offered me a job,’ Billy said slowly. ‘Wants me to be her groom, but I don’t think I’d want to be working for her. It would put me on the wrong foot somehow, as though I was getting charity and I don’t want that from her.’
She was relieved when the tram came into sight. ‘See you soon, Billy, and then we can talk some more.’ She sank into her seat gratefully; it had been difficult being with Billy and not blurting out her true feelings. But how could she tell him she no longer felt the same about him. It would be like kicking a man when he was down? Yet she longed to be honest with him and indeed for Billy to be honest with her too, for it was clear that he had changed towards her.
Proud Mary Page 33