As she crossed the dank fields and saw her cottage come into sight, she felt warmed. The small building nestling in the valley was her home now and no one could ever evict her. The thought took her back to Delmai Richardson; it was strange, Mary thought, that a woman like that was prepared to take such an interest in Billy. Mary felt guilt weigh upon her like a burden for she herself had done very little on that score; a few abortive attempts to visit him in jail and a letter or two was not much to give a man to whom she had promised herself.
Once indoors, Mary lit all the lamps and drew the curtains against the darkness of the night. The rooms looked warm and cosy despite the fact that the fire was not lit. She looked up at the clock – there was not much point in lighting it now, it was far too late. She would go to bed and curl up in the blankets.
But when she was in bed, she found she could not sleep but lay awake for hours watching the pattern of the moonlight dancing on the walls. She itched to speak honestly to Billy and she would be tormented until she had told him that she could never be his wife.
Mary rose in the morning feeling heavy-eyed and almost decided not to go in to the store at all. But there was so much still to be done. Stock to check and prices to be arranged, as well as the more mundane tasks like the placing of the chairs and tables.
She intended the opening day to be something of a spectacular occasion. She would invite the mayor to cut the ribbon across the doorway and then in the evening there would be a champagne party. After all, she was starting a new age of shopkeeping; it was surely something of a rarity to have so many shops under one roof.
Mary dressed quickly. She no longer wore flannel skirts, but good serge suits. As she pinned on her hat she stared at her reflection in the mirror, and recognised that she was a different woman from the one who had stood outside the prison gates so many months ago. She was a woman now in every sense of the word, and she knew just where she was heading. What is more, she would allow no one to get in her way.
She left the house and made her way along the lanes, avoiding the sodden fields. The sky was still overcast but the rain had at last ceased and there was the promise of a pale watery sun breaking through the clouds.
When Mary arrived at the store, she was met by an embarrassed-looking Nerys.
‘There’s a man in your office, says he knows you. I don’t like the look of him though.’
Mary, staring through the open door, recognised Billy and her heart sank.
‘It’s all right Nerys, I’ll deal with it,’ she said crisply.
‘Morning, Billy, it looks as though it might turn out to be a very nice day.’ She sat at her desk, her hand trembling as she picked up her pen. ‘I’ve just had a marvellous idea, why don’t you take the van out into the valleys for me? I don’t want to let my customers down, but I’ll have very little time for travelling from now on.’
‘You know I’ll do anything you want, Mary.’ Billy didn’t smile; he stared at her, his eyes dark and Mary bit her lip, trying not to lose her patience with his hangdog attitude. It was a result of being at the mercy of a man like Griffiths, she told herself, but the knowledge did not help much.
‘If you find Katie, she’ll see that you’re all right,’ Mary said, staring down at the books on her desk as though they were the most important thing in her life. When the door closed, she sighed and leaned back in her chair, rubbing her eyes wearily. ‘Oh, Brandon, if only you were here to help me,’ she murmured. Proud Mary, he had called her, and yet she would lose her pride if only she thought he would come at her bidding. She removed her hat and coat and returned to her desk; there was work to do and no good could come of sitting dreaming.
The day dragged on and it was almost dark by the time Mary decided she should go home. She was the last one left in the building and as she switched off the lights one by one the fittings loomed like ghosts around her. She sighed; there was so much to do, so many complications in her life, and without a love to share it all what was the point, she asked herself?
It was cold out in the street with the lamplight shimmering on the rim of ice in the gutters. Mary stood looking up at the emporium, trying to be enthusiastic about what the townspeople were describing as Mary Jenkins’ great achievement.
‘Proud of yourself, I dare say?’ The voice was low and vibrant and Mary would have recognised it anywhere.
‘Brandon?’ she said as the tall figure loomed over her. He smiled down, but the light from the lamp shining in his eyes made them appear hard and cold. ‘So this is the wonderful new store I’ve heard so much about,’ he said softly.
‘I wouldn’t have expected you to be interested.’ Mary tried to speak normally, drawing her gloves on to trembling fingers. He put his finger beneath her chin and forced her to meet his gaze.
‘I want you, Mary.’ He was very close to her and she longed to cling to him. She had believed she would lower her pride, but now that the moment had come she felt only anger.
‘Want, that’s all you know, isn’t it?’ Her voice was low and fierce. ‘Can’t you think of emotions, ever?’
She began to walk swiftly away from the store and he fell into step easily beside her. ‘Do you want me to lie to you, Mary?’ he asked with wry humour.
She glanced at him with eyes full of tears. ‘Just leave me alone, will you?’
But Brandon went with her across the fields, along the lanes and right to her door.
Inside the cottage, Mary took off her coat, acutely aware of Brandon standing watching her. She went to him and put her arms around his neck, feeling the crispness of his hair against her fingers.
‘Lie to me, Brandon,’ she said softly, ‘and tell me that you love me.’
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Brandon was not in a good mood. He strode around the works finding fault, growling at the men in a way that was entirely uncharacteristic of him. The heat in the mill brought sweat glistening on his forearms and beading his face, but he ignored the discomfort, waiting impatiently for Heath Jenkins to swing a sheet of steel back over the top of the mill to the rollerman.
‘Billy Gray is out of prison?’ he said shortly. ‘Is it true that he’s been employed by Mary?’
Heath looked at him levelly. ‘I don’t know why you’re snorting like a wounded bull, Mr Sutton, but aye, it’s true.’
Brandon examined the pile of steel plates that still held a residue of heat. At last he looked up again and saw that Heath was watching him; the boy was far too shrewd, his raised eyebrows asking a question that he was too polite to put into words.
Brandon left the mill and strode across the sodden earth towards the steelworks where the blast furnaces rose like iron-clad monsters into the heavens. Trade had worsened; some of the steel workers from other companies were on strike and the situation was causing a great deal of suffering in the town.
The General Labourers’ Union would not give up the struggle for a pay rise and Brandon knew that soon he would have to declare himself. He was in full agreement with the men, knowing that they suffered far more than the owners, but the Employers Association to which he belonged was arguing for a close-down of foundries, thus forcing the men to capitulate.
And yet it was not the troubles of the steel industry that were uppermost in Brandon’s mind at this moment. He was remembering the way Mary had come to him, so softly so sweetly that he had almost believed she loved him. He was a fool, he told himself. Mary was simply having a last fling before settling down to respectability with her lover Billy Gray.
In the office, Mark was poring over the sales sheets. He glanced up as Brandon entered, shaking his head ruefully.
‘Sales are down, sir,’ he said slowly. ‘Things are not looking good.’
Brandon rolled down his shirt sleeves and sat at his desk running his fingers through his hair wearily. He had been up most of the night trying to urge Evo into moving more swiftly with the handbook – he could almost believe that the old man was dragging his heels deliberately. Now he nodded at Mark
and pointed to the pot bubbling on the stove.
‘Get us both some hot strong coffee, Mark. I don’t think this is going to be one of our better days.’
Mark grinned and pushed back his chair, moving over to the stove with quick lithe movements. He was a lucky man; his life was comparatively uncomplicated, Brandon thought with a trace of envy.
‘How is that beautiful girl of yours?’ He leaned back in his chair, pushing the seat on to the two back legs and swinging to and fro, his feet on the desk.
‘As lovely as ever,’ Mark replied. ‘Working for Mary Jenkins, she is now, seems very happy too.’
Mark moved towards the desk with two cups of coffee black and steaming. ‘That store is really something, you should see the way Mary has had it all done out; she’ll have a little gold mine there, if you ask me.’
Brandon wasn’t asking, but in spite of himself he was interested. ‘Go on,’ he said, picking up his cup. ‘Tell me all about it.’
‘Well, apart from the main part of the building where Mary will be selling clothing, there are the other sections rented by shopkeepers dealing with different commodities. It’s an arcade of shops really and not only will Mary make a profit from her own sales but she will have rent from the other traders too. She can’t fail.’
‘Good!’ Brandon said absent-mindedly wondering at the glow of pride which warmed him as he listened to Mark talking.
And yet he wondered bitterly how it was that Billy Gray had been so suddenly pardoned, surely the man was guilty as sin. He pushed the thought aside; it really was no business of his.
He looked over at Mark. ‘I’m thinking of leaving the Employers Association,’ he said bluntly. ‘I know it will cause a stir in the town and no doubt I’ll be ostracised, but I can’t go along with what they are trying to do to the men.’
Mark looked up slowly. ‘Think carefully before you make up your mind to anything, sir,’ he said soberly. ‘You’ve made yourself pretty unpopular already with your plans for the handbook. If you leave the Association, you’ll really be out on a limb.’
Brandon rose and moved to the window, staring out at the large expanse of works spread along the river bank. It was his and he would run it how he saw fit and not in the way the Association demanded.
‘The bastards want to cut the wages even further,’ he said stonily. ‘Not content with denying uniformity of pay, they plan to take up to thirty-one per cent off the wages. I can’t go along with that, it’s putting the trade back twenty years.’
‘I know how you feel, but you can’t fight the Association single-handed,’ Mark said positively. ‘Pull in your horns a bit just for now, cut down on costs yourself and perhaps we’ll be able to weather the crisis.’
Brandon shook his head. ‘The men have already taken a voluntary cut in wages, I won’t ask them to take any less.’ If only Dean had not contested their father’s will, he thought in frustration, there would be no need for penny-pinching.
‘We must get the handbook out, Mark,’ he said firmly. ‘It will change everything. Other employers would be bound to take notice of it, for all the unions would be holding it like a knife to the throat of the bosses.’
‘And where will you be sir, down a pit without a light!’ Mark shook his head. ‘Perhaps you should be discreet for a month or two until trade figures improve.’
‘The demand for steel is there all right,’ Brandon said. ‘It’s just the unrest between boss and worker that’s causing the trouble. As for us, our prices are still comparatively high, while other companies can undercut us because of the stranglehold they have on the workers.’
There was a knock on the office door and Mark rose to his feet. After a moment’s hushed conversation, he admitted Ianto. The man held his cap between his fingers, twisting it nervously; he could hardly look Brandon in the face as he spoke.
‘I’m quitting, boss,’ he said quickly. ‘Got to say the truth, been offered more money and I need it, see.’
Brandon leaned forward, elbows on the desk. ‘Well, that’s all right, Ianto. You have to go where the pay is good, I’ll not deny that. Tell me, who will your new employer be?’
Ianto looked puzzled. ‘I thought you’d know about it, boss. Mr Dean Sutton, your brother, put the work my way. The Duffryn foundry is taking on a few men. I think you’ll be losing more workers soon, but the scum haven’t got the guts to come and tell you face to face like I have.’
Brandon shook his head. ‘Well, good luck to you, Ianto! Far be it from me to prevent you from leaving and thanks for talking straight.’
When lanto had left, Brandon thumped his fist on the desk in frustrated anger. ‘The poor fools!’ he said angrily. ‘They don’t realise they’re simply being pawns in a tactical manoeuvre. My brother has only a few shares in the Duffryn, he doesn’t care if it stands or falls and once he sees me ruined, the workers will be out on their ears so fast they won’t know what’s happened.’
Mark nodded. ‘Aye, you’re right, sir but if you try to tell them that the poor sods won’t listen – just think you’re trying to queer the pitch, that’s all.’
Brandon drew on his coat and moved to the door. ‘I’m going out to get some fresh air.’
A cold wind was blowing in from the sea as Brandon made his way to the dockside. It was here, staring at the sails billowing in the breeze and the old craft rising and falling on the waves, that he usually managed to put things in perspective. He walked along the water’s edge reading absent-mindedly the names painted on the sides of the vessels at anchor. The Sea Urchin nestled alongside The Spanish Main and Silver Maiden bobbed cheek by jowl with a small craft imposingly called Midnight Cloud. If he had a ship of his own, he mused, he would undoubtedly call her Proud Mary. The thought jolted him to a halt.
He paused for a moment, unaware of the figure he cut as he stood outlined against the grey sky and pewter sea. He was thinking far too much about Mary Jenkins, he warned himself; she was beginning to get beneath his skin.
He should be searching for a well-bred young lady, one who could sit at home and care for his children and run his household – not wasting time thinking of a woman who could match him wit for wit in business acumen.
He moved along the quay towards the pier, feeling the softness of the wind ruffle his hair. It was good to get outside the works sometimes, to put all his problems behind him and just relax. Then he looked up and his footsteps faltered to a stop.
‘Mary!’ he said and she stood before him, more beautiful than in his imaginings, her skin warmed into rosiness by the sting of the wind, her eyes bright like jewels in her high-boned face. ‘What are you doing here?’ he asked and it was almost an accusation.
Mary looked at him defensively. ‘This is a place I always come to when I’m troubled, don’t you remember, Brandon?’ She spoke softly and he stared at her for a long moment before walking away from her.
‘Brandon.’ Her voice halted him and he turned slowly, almost reluctantly. He didn’t move, simply stared at her coldly. ‘I heard you have taken Billy Gray to work for you.’
Mary hung her head. ‘I can’t just abandon him, he’s had a bad time in prison. Try to believe me that he’s innocent, even the courts say so now. And surely you can understand what it means to owe someone a debt.’
After a moment, Brandon nodded. ‘You may be right,’ he said more gently.
Mary moved restlessly, her fingers making pleats in her serge skirt. ‘Billy is so vulnerable that I don’t think he could take a rebuff. I feel I owe him a helping hand at least. He thinks I have grown far away from him because I now own a large store.’ She sighed. ‘I have a good business at my fingertips it’s true, but not without a struggle, mind.
‘Many problems I’ve had. The Cooperative have worked against me, trying to close me down, but by using my wits I’ve made a success of my life.’
Looking into her eager upturned face, Brandon felt a mixture of emotions that he could not explain. He moved away from Mary, her nearness was cloudi
ng his thinking.
‘I don’t know why you’re telling me all this and I’m sure you’ll do what you think best regarding Billy Gray.’ He was aware that his tone was curt but he wanted Mary to have no false illusions.
To his surprise she came behind him and put her arms around his waist, resting her head against the broadness of his back.
‘Brandon, don’t you understand, even now? I love you. You are the only man I have ever allowed to get close to me, in any way.’ She felt soft and warm against him and on an impulse he turned and took her in his arms, holding her close, smoothing her hair, kissing her forehead, her eyes, her lips, but after a moment he drew away.
‘Go home, Mary,’ he said, moving away from her. He thrust his fingers through his hair and turned to look out to the flat expanse of the sea, the waves tipped with white foam.
He was aware of her departure, though he did not turn to look at her. He strode along the beach in the opposite direction, knowing he was a fool to allow her near him. A woman could not change her wanton nature any more than he could make gold out of tinplate.
‘Forget her!’ he said angrily and as he reached the road he turned back towards the steelworks, his thoughts crystallised, his mind made up. He would leave the Employers Association, he would send in his resignation at once and be damned to them. His life was his own and he would run his works any way he chose, whatever the opposition.
* * *
The moon was a bright orb hanging over Kilvey Hill as Mary stared through her window. The kitchen behind her was lit only by the glow of the fire, and though the cottage was cosy and warm, Mary had never felt so alone in all her life. She could not rid her mind of the meeting that afternoon with Brandon, when it had seemed for a brief moment that she had evoked some sort of response in him. Not his usual quick passion, but a warmth and a caring that had touched her heart. But then he had sent her away and she knew that it had been only an illusion.
Proud Mary Page 34