Proud Mary

by Proud Mary (retail) (epub)

  She sighed deeply and rose from her chair to move restlessly around the room. The piano lid stood open, the ivory keys gleaming like the teeth of some monster in the shaft of moonlight from the window.

  She was possessed by a great restlessness, anticipating the impending opening of the Mary Jenkins Arcade and yet somehow, even that seemed an empty victory.

  There was no love in her life, there never had been not since childhood. But she was being self-pitying she thought in dismay. Of course she was loved, she had her brother Heath and some very good friends. She should be ashamed of herself for falling into such a slough of despond.

  She took her coat from the cupboard and shrugged into it, doing up the buttons tightly against the cold wind. She would walk down to the town, go to the store. Perhaps now was as good a time as any to talk to Billy.

  Mary had installed him in the small flat in the attic of the emporium, grateful that he would be on hand to keep an eye on things during the night time. Not that she really expected any trouble, since the people who had once been against her now had a vested interest in the success of the venture, but it never did any harm to be careful.

  She had not forgotten the break-in at Brandon’s office or the fire that had gutted the press. Everyone had enemies. She thought of Gerwin Price and shivered.

  The breeze blew the scent of the sea towards her as Mary walked along the silent lanes towards the lights of the town. Sweyn’s Eye was a place with many faces. There was the heavy concentration of works along the river bank, the docks with the thrusting steamships and billowing sails, the countryside within walking distance and lastly the town itself – contained, compact, the streets winding, the buildings tall and dominating. She could not envisage living anywhere else in the world, yet on the heels of that thought was the knowledge that she would follow Brandon to the ends of the earth if he only asked her.

  When she reached the streets, she saw how the lamplights washed down over the cobbled roadways. The sound of singing came from the public houses, lights spilling from windows scattered like bright shiny beads from a broken necklace.

  The main road was lined with the more imposing structures of the town and Mary paused before the Arcade, her heart lifting with pride. This was her own achievement, won by the toil of her hands and the sweat of her brow.

  She let herself into the building and along the broad passageway to where the door of her own store lay like a beacon before her. She stood in the silence breathing in the scents of new linen bales and freshly polished furniture, knowing with satisfaction that it was all hers.

  The stairway at the back of the store was narrow and winding and Mary made her way upwards with care in the dimness of the moonlight. On the top landing she paused for breath and sounds she could not immediately identify drifted towards her. Frowning, she moved closer to the door of Billy’s flat and turned the key in the lock.

  ‘Billy, it’s Mary, are you there?’ she called. The gaslights were aglow in the living room and glinting on the table was a bottle and two empty wine glasses. A low laugh came from the bedroom and Mary knew suddenly that she was intruding on Billy’s privacy.

  She moved back so quickly that she collided with the table and a glass shattered on the floor. There was a moment’s silence and then the door to the bedroom opened. Billy was standing staring at her, his mouth open in surprise. His hair was ruffled and the buttons of his trousers were undone.

  ‘I see that you have company, Billy.’ Mary strove to keep the sarcasm from her voice but failed dismally. To think she had been afraid to tell Billy that it was over between them and yet the moment her back was turned he was entertaining a woman!

  She moved forward, suddenly angry. ‘You have a nerve, to bring someone here onto my premises, Billy Gray,’ she said sharply. ‘Let’s see which one of my female staff you’ve managed to coax into staying the night with you.’

  Billy held up his hand but Mary pushed him aside impatiently. Then she stood in the doorway, dumb with surprise, for never in her wildest dreams had she expected to find Mrs Delmai Richardson naked in Billy’s bed.

  ‘I see you have expensive tastes, Billy,’ Mary said quietly. ‘What you do is no longer any of my business nor my responsibility, mind,’ she said slowly.

  Delmai Richardson slipped under the sheets and drew on a gown.

  ‘Billy will be all right with me, don’t you worry,’ she said, staring up at Mary defiantly. ‘Don’t you realise that we love each other? Billy has never loved you, it was simply a childhood infatuation. I’m sure you must recognise that yourself by now.’

  Mary sat down suddenly in a chair, her anger gone. How could she blame Billy for doing the same thing as she had done herself? She had been unfaithful to him long ago. Delmai misinterpreted her silence.

  ‘I suppose now you mean to expose us to society,’ she said breathlessly. ‘Wife of one of the Richardson brothers in bed with a convict?’ She caught Billy’s arm and hugged it to her. ‘You can say what you like about us, it doesn’t matter any more; the only reason we kept quiet was out of respect for your feelings.’

  Mary sighed and rose to her feet. ‘I shan’t say anything, don’t worry,’ she said flatly. At the door she turned and looked at Billy. ‘I came here to tell you it was all over between us, anyway.’ She heard Delmai sniff derisively but she had no heart to quarrel.

  As she hurried down into the street Mary paused for breath, staring up at the clouds sliding over the moon. So it was finished – anything that had remained between herself and Billy was gone for ever. She could not help but feel saddened for they had been together since childhood and she had been so sure of his love. How could she trust any man when even Billy could change his affections?

  She walked home at a steady pace, trying to calm her mood. Nothing must interfere with the opening of the store tomorrow, certainly not her own mixed emotions.

  Mary sat at her fireside drinking hot milk and staring into the dying embers of the fire and suddenly she was crying, something she could not remember doing since she was a child. The tears fell bitter and hot onto her hands, for it seemed that she was a woman destined to live her life alone. She did not love Billy, yet his betrayal hurt her deeply and Brandon, the only man she could ever love, might as well be a million miles away for all that he cared about her.

  After a time, she dried her tears and knelt down to rake the ashes from the fire. She must go to bed, she told herself, try to sleep, for in the morning, she must be fresh and rested for the greatest triumph of her life. But then why was it that she lay curled in her bed, alone and unhappy, feeling as if she had gained the world and lost her soul?

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Snow came again to Sweyn’s Eye, a softly folding quilt that lay upon the streets, disguising rooftops, laying a sliver of ice across canal and river. January was not to be banished without leaving cold winter fingers over the town.

  Rhian sat near the fire, a thick shawl around her thin shoulders, her hands chilled even though she rubbed them together for warmth. Carrie came into the room struggling with a full scuttle and knelt before the ornate hearth, placing coals upon the flames as though they were precious gems. She frowned as she turned to look at Rhian and sank back onto her heels.

  ‘What’s wrong with you these days, merchi?’ she asked gently. ‘You look so lost and sad.’

  Rhian shook her head. ‘There’s nothing wrong with me, Carrie. Don’t worry your head about me, I’m not worth it.’

  Carrie’s eyes were shrewd. ‘There is something eating at you and haven’t I known it these past few weeks! Changed you have, girl, not so damned selfish to tell you the truth. Time was when you wouldn’t lift a plate and carry it over to the sink. Good help you are to me now, Rhian. Come on, Carrie will understand. Is it something to do with Heath and me?’

  Rhian met Carrie’s eyes and then looked away quickly, remembering her naked in Heath’s arms. She shook her head. ‘No, it’s nothing to do with Heath or with you.’ And yet it was
in a way, she thought bitterly.

  There had been a long train of nightmare experiences, beginning when Aunt Agnes had fallen sick and culminating in the night of Gerwin Price’s attack. She moved quickly as though to dispel the dreadful thoughts that festered away inside her. So long as she did not allow herself to remember, she could survive.

  ‘There’s such misery in your eyes, merchi,’ Carrie went on. ‘I’ve seen nothing like it except in the expression of a beaten dog. Let me help you, I can see you’re hurting inside.’

  ‘There’s nothing anyone can do,’ Rhian said quickly. ‘I’m going to my room. I’m feeling so tired, I’m sleeping on my nose.’

  It was cold in the bedroom but fully clothed, Rhian climbed beneath the quilt and huddled there, knees drawn up to her stomach. She had been in bed only a few minutes when she heard footsteps mounting the stairs and recognised them as belonging to Heath.

  ‘Are you sleeping, Rhian?’ He knocked on the door, calling to her softly, but she remained silent, hoping he would go away. Her heart sank when she heard the rattle of the doorknob and she sighed heavily, turning on her back and blinking as the light from the lamp Heath was carrying spilled on to her face.

  ‘We’ve got to talk.’ Heath sounded strong and positive. He sat on the edge of the bed and Rhian resisted the impulse to move away from him.

  ‘You’re as jumpy as a kitten,’ he said gently, ‘and what’s more, you’re wasting away to nothing. There’s something wrong. I must know about it and find out I will, even if I have to shake it out of you.’

  He put his arms around her and in spite of her resistance drew her close. ‘Come on now, there’s a good girl, tell me what’s wrong.’

  She struggled against him but he held her fast. When he bent his head to kiss her cheek, she leaned against him as though too dispirited to fight any more.

  ‘It’s something I can’t talk about,’ she said woodenly. Heath held her at arm’s length and stared at her, his eyes narrowing.

  ‘Has someone been pestering you, some man?’ He looked into her eyes and Rhian wanted to spill out to him all the horrible sordid memories that still festered inside her. He saw the weakening of her face and pressed the point.

  ‘Look, Rhian my lovely, if anything has happened to you, don’t I above all people have the right to know?’

  She recognised the truth of his words that he was the nearest one to her. There was no one else in whom to confide and who knows, perhaps she would feel better if she spoke of the horrors that lived inside her skull.

  Rhian began to talk in a low monotone, saying the things she had never believed would be spoken out loud. She spared Heath nothing of the sordid events of the night when Gerwin Price had taken her, used her and defiled her. She was so ashamed that when she at last stopped speaking she would not look up.

  The silence lengthened and she wondered if Heath would leave her now in disgust, never to speak to her again. After what seemed an eternity he took her in his arms, holding her close and stroking her hair.

  ‘You must not feel that any of it was your fault,’ he said, though his voice was husky as if he was about to cry. ‘You have done nothing wrong, do you understand me?’

  He smoothed her hair gently. ‘I love you, Rhian. I think this is the first time I’ve told you so, but you mean more to me than anyone in the world.’ He tipped up her chin so that he could look into her eyes. ‘None of us is perfect, Rhian cariad. I’ve had so many women I’ve lost count, but when I’m your husband I’ll be yours alone and we shall start a new life afresh together, do you know what I mean?’

  Rhian nodded. ‘I know only too well, Heath. You will try to forget that another man has entered the secret places of my body, has violated all that I thought I would have to offer my husband. How can I marry anyone, now?’

  Heath became tense. ‘You must tell me the name of the monster who did this to you, Rhian. I will wipe him from the face of the earth and then you will be at peace, you’ll see.’

  Rhian was suddenly frightened that Heath meant to kill in retribution for what had happened to her. She turned her face towards the wall and sighed heavily.

  ‘It was dark, Heath, I couldn’t see anything, only feel, just feel that’s all.’

  ‘Rhian, why are you protecting this bastard? Tell me his name, how can I rest until I’ve punished the man?’

  ‘Vengeance is mine, sayeth the lord,’ Rhian said tiredly. ‘That’s what the good book tells us, Heath and you can’t do anything, so please forget about it or I shall be sorry I told you.’

  He moved away from the bed and stood in the doorway, breathing heavily. ‘I’ll give you a few days to think things over, Rhian. Perhaps when you are not so upset you’ll remember something that will lead me to the maniac who harmed you. I’ll not let it rest though, never let it rest, so put your mind to that, girl.’

  He went out and closed the door with a bang and Rhian covered her face with her hands as the memories evoked by the telling came flooding back into her mind.

  * * *

  With the onset of February the last of the snows vanished. Women queued at the soup kitchens of Sweyn’s Eye while their menfolk stood on corners, shamed expressions on tired faces, jaunty white scarves hanging over threadbare topcoats, for the strikes were spreading. There were no wages for the men who thwarted their bosses and the living was hard in the small cottages and smoke-grimed terraces of the town.

  Mary delayed the opening of her emporium and put her van to good use. Alone, she toured the outer limits of Sweyn’s Eye with food and clothing and anxious faces stared up at her, thin and gaunt with fear. Mary dutifully wrote her accounts in a large book, knowing in her heart that none of the debts was ever likely to be repaid.

  And yet her admiration for the people of the district grew as gifts were pressed upon her by proud villagers. She found she might be given anything from the most beautiful and intricate carvings to sacks of peat for the fire – anything at all, in fact, that would serve as a means of barter for much-needed food and clothing.

  When Mary was asked to open a soup kitchen in Sweyn’s Eye, she called on Mali for help and together they provided the necessities that were to feed the poor.

  ‘It breaks my heart to see poverty in the streets of Sweyn’s Eye,’ Mali said as she was retying an apron around her slender waist. ‘Now that I’ve children of my own, I can imagine what it must be to see them going hungry.’

  Mary refrained from saying that she had known a much worse poverty, a grinding down of soul and spirit that came with an utter lack of caring. When they were children, she and Heath often did not have essentials such as bread to put in their hungry mouths. As for shoes, they were something others wore and until Mary was a young woman she had walked barefoot without thinking twice about it.

  It was through Mali that Mary learned about Brandon’s rebellion against the Employers Association. They had met as usual at the soup kitchen in the Strand and Mali put down her ladle and gestured for Mary to follow her into the back room.

  ‘I must have a cup of tea, share one with me? I know you’ve been out in that old van of yours and you must need a rest too.’

  Mary rubbed at her ankles ruefully. ‘I do, my feet are so cold I swear I’ve got frostbite in every toe.’

  Mali held out a cup of tea towards her. ‘Drink this, it’s strong as sin but hot and sweet, it will do you good.’ The two women sat for a moment in silence, each busy with their own thoughts.

  ‘I wonder how long these strikes are going to last,’ Mary said. ‘It seems wrong to open my store with all this poverty hiding in the backstreets of Sweyn’s Eye.’

  ‘Nonsense!’ Mali said stoutly. ‘You have to make a living. No good to man or beast if you become as poor as a church mouse yourself.’ She stared at Mary over the brim of her cup. ‘I’m sorry for Brandon Sutton though. Seems he’s left the Employers Association, caused quite a stir among all the other bosses. He’s keeping his works open while everyone else, even Sterling, has clo
sed down.’

  Mary felt a glow of pride at the stand Brandon was taking. She did not look up but stirred her tea vigorously, willing Mali to go on speaking about him. She had not seen him for days, not even caught a glimpse of him in the street and she ached for him. It was so painful that at nights she tossed and turned, trying to think of a way of going to him and begging him if need be to love her. But in the light of day such notions would vanish as quickly as they had come.

  ‘He’s losing orders,’ Mali continued, ‘and Sterling tells me that the other bosses are squeezing him out. Brandon needs funds and needs them badly, even to the extent that he’s offering shares in the Beaufort Steel and Tinplate Company on the open market.’

  Mary digested this in silence but inside she glowed with excitement. She could help Brandon, indirectly. She would go to Gregory Irons and instruct him to buy some shares for her without revealing her name. If she mortgaged the Mary Jenkins Arcade, she could raise a considerable sum of money.

  ‘Still, I’ve enough to think of with the children,’ Mali continued, ‘without bothering my head about the works and such. Mary, you’re not listening to a word I’m saying,’ Mali laughed. ‘You know you haven’t seen my baby daughter yet. I want you to promise you’ll come to see her before she gets too grown-up.’

  ‘Yes, I will,’ Mary replied absently. She was aching to be away; she wanted to make arrangements with the lawyer at once, but she knew she would have to act in secret because Brandon was far too proud to accept help from any woman, especially Mary Jenkins.

  She looked at Mali’s rosy face with a trace of envy. ‘You’re so lucky, Mali,’ she said softly. ‘You have the man you love and two fine children. I’m as jealous as a cat, you know that, don’t you?’

  Mali smiled affectionately. ‘But in the nicest sort of way,’ she said. ‘Don’t worry, Mary, you’ll be getting married soon; you must be feeling on top of the world yourself now that Billy’s out of prison.’