Mark nodded. ‘I’ll do that, sir,’ he said, his eyes alight. ‘We won’t be beaten, boss. We’ll show them all, you’ll see.’
‘That’s all very well, but what about my press? Who’s going to pay for all this mess?’ Evo said mournfully.
Brandon smiled grimly. ‘Don’t worry, Evo, you’ll be paid. Mark, Heath – come along with me. We’ll get the manuscript and then you can get on your way as quickly as possible, Mark.’
Later, as the three men sat in the offices of the Beaufort Steel and Tinplate Company, Mark stared at Brandon with his eyes full of sympathy.
‘I’ll see that the book is printed, boss, don’t worry about that, but what are you going to do about the works? Can you keep going?’
Brandon sat on the edge of the desk swinging his leg, a frown crossing his brow.
‘I can’t sell, that’s for sure, not without my brother’s agreement. He will probably try to force the men out on strike to keep in line with all the other works, and in that way ensure his money is no damn use to me.’
Heath rose to his feet. ‘Well, I’ll go and see Gerwin Price. I may get something useful out of him.’
Brandon shook his head. ‘I doubt it. He’s an animal, not a brain in his head. He destroys for the sheer pleasure of it, so don’t bank on getting anything there.’
He reached into his desk and threw a blackened ornament towards Heath. ‘Take this, you may at least be able to tie Price in with the fire. I found it in the mess we cleared up afterwards. And thanks, both of you!’ He sat down in his chair and drew out a ledger, staring down at the figures before him and Mark and Heath glanced at each other, knowing that they were dismissed.
As Heath made his way out of the gates, he stared at the tall stacks of the blast furnace, seeing the smoke rising to mingle with the clouds. Deep within him he felt that the fight Brandon Sutton was facing to get the book published was bigger than he had imagined. Heath had liked the boss from the first, but now his respect for him made him eager to help in any way he could.
He looked down at his working clothes, for he had been about to start a heat when Mark had asked him to accompany him to the press. Perhaps he ought to get off home and change and then go and search for Price, see what he could get out of him.
The metal eagle in his pocket seemed to burn a hole as he fingered the rough edges and thought of how he would like to rearrange Gerwin Price’s face. Unthinking animal he might be, but the sod knew the difference between right and wrong.
So immersed in his thoughts was he that he almost collided with Mary as she left the soup kitchen.
‘Steady on, you lout!’ she said, laughing and Heath held her in his arms for a moment, love for his sister warm and serene within him.
‘Far away you were then, boyo. What’s wrong? Lost a fortune and found a penny, have you?’
He drew her hand through his arm. ‘Not exactly,’ he replied, ‘but you’re right about one thing. I’m madder than a bull in a field of cows.’
‘Come on, tell Mary all about it.’ She squeezed his arm and Heath stared down at her, frowning.
‘I don’t know what happened between you and Mr Sutton,’ he began, ‘I saw that you were quarrelling with him on the night of the party, but he’s being wronged and I’m not going to stand still and do nothing.’ He saw the light vanish from Mary’s eyes.
‘Has he been blaming me for the business of the shares again? I swear I didn’t know anything about Dean Sutton buying them – that rat of a lawyer led me to believe that it was Sterling Richardson.’
Heath shook his head. ‘No, not blaming you, Mary, something else has happened to put the business of the shares out of Brandon Sutton’s mind for the moment.’
‘What’s gone wrong now?’ Mary asked and though she spoke calmly enough, Heath could see that she was breathing rapidly. She cared about Mr Sutton, it was as plain as the nose on his face.
‘The press has been destroyed, the books torn and thrown all about the place. Such a mess you’ve never seen in your life!’
‘Duw, there’s a fighter he is and he’ll win in the end or I’m not Mary Jenkins.’
Heath noticed absently how Mary fell back into the Welsh idiom when she was disturbed. He put his hand in his pocket and encountered the metal eagle.
‘You haven’t by any chance seen this before, have you, love?’ He held it on the palm of his hand and felt Mary stiffen at his side.
‘Yes, I’ve seen it before, on the coat of that waster Gerwin Price.’
Heath saw that Mary was trembling and he drew her into the shelter of a shop doorway and stared down at her, his arms on her shoulders.
‘Come on, Mary, I know you when you’re upset. You’d better tell me all about it. When did you come to see this button?’
Mary took a deep breath. ‘It was when we were living in Canal Street,’ she said. ‘You must have been working I suppose but at any rate I was in the house on my own.’ She paused as if the memory still had the power to shake her.
Heath put a finger under her chin and looked down into her eyes. ‘Go on Mary, I’m your brother – you can tell me.’
Mary shook her head, placing a hand on his cheek. ‘I’m half afraid to say for fear of what you’ll do.’
Heath shook her gently. ‘Tell me what happened, Mary, I mean to know.’
‘All right.’ She leaned against him as if suddenly wanting to talk. ‘He saw me in the bath. Peering through the window he was, came in and attacked me. Didn’t get nowhere with me, though, don’t you worry, boyo. Interrupted he was when Brandon Sutton came just in time to throw the monster out.’
The breath hissed through Heath’s gritted teeth as Mary’s story suddenly made everything crystal clear to him. He saw again Rhian’s pale face and defeated eyes as she told him about the man who had violated her – now Heath knew who that man must be.
‘I’ll kill the bastard!’ he said under his breath. ‘He doesn’t deserve to live.’ He looked down at Mary. ‘Get on home with you, out of this rain, I’ll be seeing you later.’
Mary caught his arm, a look of fear on her face. ‘Please Heath, don’t do anything silly, now. You’re just a boy and I don’t trust that Gerwin Price any further than I can see him.’
Heath smiled grimly. ‘Not a boy any longer, a man I am now, Mary, or haven’t you noticed?’
As he moved down the street, he did not glance back. He had a job to do and nothing would deter him, not even his sister’s pleading looks. Gerwin Price must take his medicine and Heath was just the one to administer it.
* * *
Rhian was seated in her customary position near the fire, for the cold seemed to have entered her very bones. She glanced up without warmth as Mary entered the parlour and looked away again quickly. There was something in Mary’s bright intelligent eyes and animated features that was almost painful for Rhian to look upon.
She shuddered. Would she never feel clean and wholesome again? Mary Jenkins seemed everything that was wholesome and clean and in that instant Rhian almost hated her.
Mary made small talk with Auntie Agnes and Rhian was satisfied to be silent, lost in her own thoughts. She watched as Carrie brought in the coal and pushed the kettle onto the fire and was startled when Carrie spoke to her.
‘Do you want a nice cup of tea, then?’ she coaxed. It seemed she was always trying to be kind and though Rhian had forgiven her for stealing Heath away, they never spoke of it. Rhian was aware of Carrie’s feelings of guilt and felt sorry for her, but she carried her own burden of guilt that was far greater than anyone could ever know.
‘There are some Welsh cakes in the tin,’ Auntie Agnes was saying and Carrie fetched plates and bustled around with the tea tray. Everything seemed so sane and normal on the surface, but Rhian felt she was an outsider looking in.
Carrie went away to wash the dishes and Auntie began to doze, her head on her chest. Rhian did not want to look at Mary, but she was forced to do so for Mary brought her chair closer and Rhian c
ould smell the fresh scent of her.
‘I know you’re upset about Heath and Carrie,’ Mary began, ‘but please try to understand that he didn’t mean to hurt you. Since he was little more than a boy he’s gone out tomcatting and I always told him he’d get into trouble one day because of it.’
Rhian shook her head. ‘It’s all right, Mary, don’t trouble yourself with me. I’m not worrying about Heath or anything else for that matter.’ She saw the look of doubt on Mary’s face but turned away and stared into the flames, pleading silently to be left alone. But Mary continued speaking.
‘Well, I’m worried about him.’ She spoke now as though not aware of Rhian’s presence, more as if she was thinking out loud. ‘Gone looking for Gerwin Price, he has.’
Rhian’s heart jerked painfully and she swallowed hard on the bile that rose to her throat. She saw again the cruel eyes and tufted hair and felt hands holding her, hurting her.
Mary’s voice broke harshly into her thoughts. ‘It seems that Gerwin started the fire at the press some time ago, something of his was found in the wreckage. Now the press has been smashed and the papers torn to pieces and Heath is going to see what Gerwin has to say about it all.’ Mary paused and Rhian felt as though she had fallen into the coldness of the ocean and was being sucked down by the waves.
‘I had to tell Heath that I had seen that eagle button before. It was the night Gerwin attacked me. Would have done me harm, too, except that someone came to the house just in time.’
Rhian stared at Mary. ‘Gerwin Price attacked you too!’ Her voice seemed strange even to herself and she wasn’t surprised at the way Mary was suddenly staring at her.
‘What do you mean, “too”?’ Mary asked slowly ‘Rhian, is this what’s been the matter with you all this time? Did Gerwin Price…?’ Her voice trailed away as Rhian hung her head, the colour ebbing from her face.
Tears came then and Rhian felt her body shudder with the force of her sobs. Mary’s arms were around her, holding her and after a moment, Rhian relaxed, feeling that she was not alone in her misery after all. Mary had been the target for Gerwin’s cruelty too, so Rhian could not be entirely to blame for what had happened to herself. Then Mary was suddenly holding her at arm’s length. ‘Duw! Did Heath know about this?’ Her tone was urgent, breaking through Rhian’s confused thoughts. After a moment, Rhian nodded. ‘Yes, he did, I told him… but not the name of the man.’
Mary breathed in deeply. ‘I think he must have put two and two together, Rhian, for he was muttering something about killing Gerwin. I thought it was in the heat of the moment, but now I see that Heath meant every word.’
The two women sat clasping each other in silence and it was Mary who moved first.
‘You sit by here, merchi. I’ll go and see if I can find out where Heath is gone.’
As the door closed behind Mary, Rhian rose to her feet and stood trembling for a long moment, staring around her. The clock ticked loudly, the coals shifted in the grate and in her chair, Aunt Agnes still snored gently. Rhian seemed suddenly to breathe again, her senses came tingling back and for the first time in weeks she was afraid for someone other than herself. If Heath caught up with Gerwin, there was no knowing what would happen.
She moved upstairs to fetch a shawl and saw that the light was on in Heath’s room. As she stood in the lamplight staring around her, she saw a poster lying across the bed. She leaned closer to read the words and saw that a mass meeting had been arranged for the following day at the recreation ground. Perhaps Heath had gone there, just to check that everything was all right. At least it seemed like a promising place to begin.
To think about leaving the house was one thing, but as Rhian wrapped her shawl around her shoulders and opened the door to the night, she shuddered. She had not been in the darkness once since the attack. She took a deep breath and moved down the street, thankful for the pools of light shed by the gas lamps. She stared up at the shooting sparks from the works and a strange desperation seized her. She could never be happy now, not while she lived in Sweyn’s Eye. Whatever happened tonight, as soon as was possible she would get right away. In time, her broken spirit might heal and she could look herself in the face again.
Her footsteps sounded loud in the quiet street and Rhian walked more quickly, thankful to hear the sound of singing from the public bar of the Cape Horner. It was not far now but the streets, although broader, were even more silent.
The recreation field lay long and dark in the shadow of the trees and Rhian shivered but forced herself to go on. A dais had been set up at one end of the ground and it jutted out deep and black, the fluttering of flags the only thing that moved. Rhian wondered if she had guessed wrongly, perhaps no one had come this way at all tonight and she might just as well turn to go home again.
Yet some perverse instinct forced her on. She skirted the dais carefully, drawing closer, like a huntsman nearing its prey. Then she heard sounds, low animal grunts and the hair rose on the back of her neck. She put her fingers to her throat feeling she could not breathe. Once more she was being crushed beneath the weight of the man who was tearing and rending at her. Then the darkness receded and she was still standing at the edge of the dais, listening to what she now recognised was the sound of men locked in combat.
She fell on to her stomach, ignoring the dampness of the grass. Carefully she lifted the canvas that hung from the dais down to the ground and the bright light of a lantern dazzled her eyes for a moment. Her vision cleared and she saw with horror that Heath was lashing out at the red and bleeding face of Gerwin Price.
Heath glanced towards her. ‘Get out of here!’ he shouted. ‘The fool is messing about with explosives!’
Gerwin took advantage of Heath’s moment of distraction to strike and the two men fell onto the ground, Heath’s flaying arm knocking the lantern from its hook. Gerwin Price grunted like an animal, going for Heath’s throat, his eyes widening in terror as he caught sight of the burning end of a fuse moving insidiously towards the charge.
‘Let me out of here!’ he screamed. ‘It’s not my fault, Dean Sutton paid me to set the charge to go off tomorrow. He’s the one to blame, not me!’
He raised a fist, intending to smash it down into Heath’s face and Rhian was hardly aware that she had picked up a stone until she heard it strike with a dull thud.
Gerwin turned with a look of surprise and Rhian held her breath, rooted to the spot with fear. He pitched onto his face and with a sob Rhian grasped Heath’s arm.
‘Get up, Heath!’ she begged. ‘We must get away from here before the whole lot goes up!’ She slapped Heath’s face and though he still appeared dazed, he managed to crawl from under the platform. Rhian pushed him onward, stumbling awkwardly over the uneven ground.
‘Come on,’ she said breathlessly. ‘Hurry, for God’s sake!’
Heath pitched forward and Rhian threw herself over him. There was a sound like the crack of thunder as though the heavens were split asunder, and as she looked back fearfully over her shoulder Rhian saw the entire platform lift in the air as though held by a giant hand. Then a splintering of wood fell like a shower back to earth.
She sat for a long time, cradling Heath in her arms, crying into his shoulder. There were streams of people running like ants across the ground, asking questions and getting no response. But at last Heath sat up, shaking his head as though to clear it.
‘Thank God,’ Rhian whispered softly. He rose to his feet and put his arm over her shoulder, ignoring the crowds that thronged around them.
‘So this is all Dean Sutton’s doing, is it?’ he said raggedly. ‘He paid Gerwin Price to murder Brandon and God knows how many innocent people.’
He sighed heavily. ‘I think, somehow, that Mr Dean Sutton is going to sign the shares in the Beaufort Works back over to his brother.’ He smiled in the darkness and then seemed to become aware of Rhian at his side.
‘Come on,’ he said gently, ‘I’m taking you home.’
Rhian clung to him and s
uddenly she began to cry in great gulping sobs and it was like the melting of the winter snows.
Chapter Thirty-Two
The day was bright and sunny, a gift of spring bestowed on winter, when even the air was as sweet as wine and the chill breeze carried with it the scent of salt and sea.
Sweyn’s Eye was awake early as men arrived from hill croft and valley pit, converging on the town from every direction.
Folks came in carts or charabancs, on horse or on foot. Comedy bands dominated the streets, the men ghostly with painted clown faces and slashed red mouths. Blaring discordant notes issued from brass trumpets, arousing laughter from the onlookers lining the streets. And it seemed that no one gave a thought to the explosion at the recreation ground or to the fact that a man was dead.
Mary for her part felt only relief that Heath was safe. He sported a black eye and a swollen jaw and she realised that without Rhian’s intervention matters might have taken a very different turn.
Rhian was a changed woman; she seemed alive now and in command of herself once more. She was determined to leave Sweyn’s Eye and begin afresh in a place where she was not known. And in her heart Mary could not blame her, in spite of the hurt her decision caused Heath.
Through the window of the store, Mary heard the marching of the massed bands. She leaned on the sill and pressed her face to the cold glass, her breath misting it like white crystals of snow.
After the bands came the men on strike, carrying brightly painted banners calling for equality for all. Mary had seen such marches before and knew that the crowds would make frequent stops at the public bars on the way, growing more angry and less sober as the day wore on.
The store was an empty shell, since no one cared to shop on a day like this. Mary had given her staff the day off, realising that all of them would want to watch the parade. As she stared down into the busy street, she wondered what the outcome of the rally would be. Brandon meant to address the crowds – a strange thing, she thought, when a boss was on the side of the workers. And yet she was achingly proud of him.
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