She closed the ledger with relief as she completed the final total on the page, and stretched. If her mother could listen for callers for an hour she would go and walk on the cliffs to ease her stiffness. The tide was at its lowest and she loved the strong smell of the weed part-dried in the warmth of the day. Dan had invited her to walk with him at this hour, and she wanted to feel his hand on hers, and put aside the wavering doubts that he was the one she loved.
* * *
Dan was with his mother, repairing a small loom that had become a victim of baby Dic’s attentions. When the darkness of the room showed that someone stood at the door, he looked up and smiled with delight.
‘Enyd, my love, you’ve come.’
‘I have listened to Emma’s boasting and the twins’ chatter, and worked over Dadda’s books, so I need to feel the fresh air about my ears to wake me up from my dullness,’ she said.
She heard a sound outside, and turned to see Olwen running for the cliff path.
‘That girl,’ Dan said. ‘She’ll never grow up! Runs around like a demented puppy and never feels fatigue. Off she is to row out around the headland with Arthur.’
He sat finishing the repair while Enyd watched, not speaking very much, but each very aware of the other. When the loom was once again sound, he put it aside and gathered her in his arms.
The kiss was ended regretfully when the sound of Mary coming back with the eggs she had gathered, singing to Dic, met their ears, and they went out to greet them both before setting off towards the cliffs.
Dan appeared to have nothing on his mind apart from Enyd, but he was carefully timing their arrival at the cliff edge to coincide with Arthur and Olwen reaching the sandbank. He looked down at the beach and saw the small boat being rowed out from the small, narrow stretch of sand, appearing from the distance to almost graze against the rocks jutting out at either side of it. He felt a moment’s anxiety, not wanting there to be a real emergency instead of the rehearsed imitation.
He carefully turned Enyd so she would not see Olwen deposit Arthur and his dog in the unlikely shallows so far from the shore and waited impatiently to allow time for Olwen to row to where she could not be seen from the shore. Then he pointed to Arthur, stranded dangerously, the dog in his arms, out beyond the rocks, and called Enyd urgently to follow him.
As they ran, he shouted to her that they must hurry, that Arthur must have gone to rescue his dog, and that she must come with him to effect a rescue or see the boy drown before her eyes.
She did not argue, carried along by his authority. They reached the beach, running down the uneven slope without attempting to find the easiest path, and onto the shore. There, a small boat was waiting for them. Enyd hesitated then, and Dan dealt firmly with her fears.
‘I need you to come with me, Enyd my love, or that boy is in danger. Not from the sea, but from his own stupidity,’ he said, and pulled her over the gunnels and into the small boat. He released her then, feeling a bit guilty as she clung fearfully to the small bench seat. Pushing the boat out until it bobbed on the waves, he climbed in and began rowing towards the small figure apparently alone and helpless in the sea.
As they reached him, Arthur laughed, and throwing the dog into the water to follow, he swam to Olwen who was anchored just out of sight behind the headland, holding the rope fastened about his waist. She helped the dog and Arthur over the side and then they pulled up the anchor and set sail, jeering at the victims of their joke.
‘If we sail around the headland now and come into the village, we can catch them and give them the hiding they deserve,’ Dan laughed, continuing with the pretence. But he was smiling, and pretending not to notice how white Enyd’s hands were as she silently clung to the sides. He began to sing, his strong voice riding the waves as easily as the boat, and he confidently hauled up the sheets and allowed the slight wind to flap them. Then as they came out past the headland, the wind filled them and the boat soared away across the surface of the sea, the sound a gentle one, the movement as natural to Dan as breathing.
He glanced at Enyd frequently, but said nothing to suggest he was aware of her being afraid. He saw her hands slowly relax their grasp and he risked meeting her eyes, smiling, and she answered with a wavering one of her own.
They stayed out for more than an hour, and by the time they reached the beach, she had managed to stand beside him, handle the rudder, help pull in the sail, and even – to his surprise and delight – take the oars, though she succeeded in sending them in circles, her right pull stronger than her left.
When she stood on the gravelly shore she was trembling and he carried her up to her parents’ home, both laughing with the exhilaration of the experience.
‘You cheated me, Dan-Fisher, don’t think I don’t know,’ she said breathlessly, her cheeks and eyes aglow. ‘You and that sister of yours, and Arthur, even the dog! You all cheated me.’
‘Are you pleased?’
‘I’m glad now, but when I first stood in the boat I thought I would never, ever forgive you. Even now I think you’re the most—’
Her recriminations were stopped by his kiss.
* * *
The only people who were not pleased were Mary and Spider. They threatened Dan that if he ever involved his sister in anything so foolish again, he would regret it for ever.
‘We could have lost her,’ Mary sobbed. ‘The sea is so wild at that point and she’s only a child!’
In her bed above the living room, Olwen smiled, shook her head and whispered,
‘No I’m not, Mam, no I’m not. I’m growing up and it’s a-w-ful hard.’
* * *
Ceinwen and Enyd tried once again to persuade Dan to take the position of letter-carrier but he refused firmly, and this time Enyd did not prolong the argument. She went out several times with Dan and Spider, short pleasure trips only, but as her confidence in Dan’s ability to look after her grew, so did the conviction that if she loved him, she could not ask him to give up the life he so enjoyed.
They eventually planned to marry in the month of September, and as soon as this was decided, Emma ran across to the white house on the bank and offered her services as advisor.
‘There’s nothing you can tell me about weddings and the proper way to have things done, Ceinwen,’ she said firmly. ‘Be guided by me and you’ll have no complaints or criticisms.’ She lowered her bewigged head that was topped with a large-brimmed hat she had bought second hand from a door-to-door clothes seller.
‘I think, my dear, that I might be celebrating the nuptials of my daughter Pansy before the year is out. Besides the romantic flowers, there have been several surprise gifts appearing in her room and although she has not uttered a word by way of explanation, I think I suspect who it might be.’
‘Oh?’ Ceinwen said with a curious light in her brown eyes. ‘Who do you think is her secret admirer then?’
‘Why, no one less than John Maddern, the man who comes often to spend time with William Ddole. I’ve noticed, you see, that the flowers only arrive rarely, and each time it has been when John Maddern is staying. Now, what d’you think of that? A friend of the Ddoles and a London man of business!’
‘It isn’t him,’ Ceinwen said casually. ‘It’s that Arthur, your pot-boy.’
‘Oh really, Ceinwen, you will have your little joke.’
‘No joke,’ Ceinwen said, maliciously enjoying the shock on Emma’s chubby face. ‘It’s that Arthur who brings her flowers.’
It only took a few moments for Emma to recover.
‘I know about that, dear,’ she lied. ‘That poor lovestruck boy, admiring Pansy. That is a joke! No, there is someone else and I feel almost certain that it is John Maddern. Now,’ she said, rising and reaching for her cloak, ‘Pitcher will be wondering where I have got to.’
* * *
‘Mr Palmer! Come upstairs with me at once!’ Emma shouted as she ran in through the alehouse door. ‘He will have to go. The boy will have to go!’
‘Oh no. W
hat has Barrass been up to this time? He’s hardly here!’ Pitcher sighed and wearily followed his irate wife up to their living room, preparing arguments for persuading Barrass to stay at the alehouse once he was freed from carrying the post. When Emma explained that Arthur was ‘paying court’ to their daughter, he roared with laughter and told her to behave before he collapsed with her larking him.
‘Arthur!’ he said disparagingly. ‘Nothing but a boy.’
‘That, Mr Palmer, is what you said about Barrass, and we have a dark-eyed granddaughter to prove how wrong you were!’
* * *
Olwen would probably have refused Tom’s invitation to walk her home by the longest route if she had not just heard the news of Barrass’s second daughter being born. Although it was expected, somehow the prospect of the girls giving birth to his children had not seemed real. Knowing that there was a Gabriella Prince and a Maude Rees made her face up to the fact that Barrass loved every woman he met – with the exception of herself.
Tom was standing just inside the driveway when she finished work for the day and although it was late he invited her to walk across to the next bay to see the sunset. He was an attractive young man, she supposed, with his hazel eyes that flashed with amusement and cooled to adoration in moments as she had seen when he talked with Dozy Bethan at the kitchen door while delivering yet another letter, and the news of Carrie’s child.
The sea was green and, to Olwen as she stood at the edge of the tide, the waves seemed like pale green glass. There were a few people walking on the beach and several poorly dressed children played with a couple of dogs in and out of the cold water.
‘Catch their deaths they will, bathing before the sea has warmed,’ Olwen said disapprovingly.
‘Oh? And what about you and Arthur daring to go out to the Mixens then?’
‘That was different.’
‘For love,’ he said softly. ‘Do anything for love, would you, Olwen-the-Fish?’
His arm slipped around her waist and he led her away from the water, darkening suddenly as the sun disappeared. She shivered and his arm tightened.
‘Best we go up from the sea where it’s warmer.’
‘Best I make for Mam’s fire,’ she said.
But she did not dissuade him when he led her away from her home to a small half-hidden place in the rocks, out of sight of those passing. He took off his coat and placed it across her shoulders, kissing her lightly as he tightened it around her. She began to feel excitement as he sat close beside her and held her tightly against him. Then he began to pull her closer to his length, forcing her to straighten against him, persuading her to feel the sudden urgency of his kisses as he did. His breathing became harsh, his demands more fierce, and she became frightened. She cried out and tried to pull away.
‘Tom, stop it, you’re hurting me.’
‘No I’m not, you like it.’
His hands were all over her, pulling and kneading, stroking and exploring, sliding under her clothes until she screamed loudly and long, startling him into relaxing his hold on her. She pushed him away and kicked out at him as she rose to flee, and she ran without looking back, the scream continuing long after she had left the sight of the small hidden place in the rocks.
When she reached home, Barrass was there, and the sight of him made her cry. She had imagined running in and telling her mother she was tired and being allowed to hurry up the ladder to her bed, there to recover from the humiliation of Tom’s treatment.
‘Olwen?’ he said. ‘What has happened?’
‘Nothing. I’m tired, that’s all,’ she said, then to justify the tears beginning to slide down her cheeks she added fiercely, ‘And so would you be if you’d been running around after others all day since first light!’
Mary turned from the fire where she had been stirring a large pot of broth.
‘Tired are you, love? Why not go for a walk on the cliffs, that always calms you down. Barrass will go with you, won’t he?’ She looked at Barrass, tall now and greatly filled out since he was taking so much exercise and eating so well, and smiled at him. ‘Then stay to eat with us, if you don’t mind some old broth made with a couple of bones from the bacon.’
* * *
‘What happened?’ Barrass demanded when they were away from the house.
‘It’s nothing to do with you,’ Olwen snapped. ‘What makes you think you have the right to ask me what I’ve been doing, while you go and do exactly what you like with every girl in the village and some beyond?’
‘You’ve heard about Carrie’s daughter?’ he asked. ‘But that wasn’t a surprise, was it? You knew, everybody knew she was due to be confined. She says it was mine and so it might be, but why has it upset you so?’ He frowned then as the words she had spoken reached his understanding. What was she saying? Had she – but no, not Olwen.
‘Olwen, you haven’t been – well, trying to imitate my behaviour, have you?’ He felt foolish even suggesting it, but once the thought was there it had to be said. Anger flared in him as he thought of her with some boy from the village, and as she did not answer, he tried to think who it could be. Not Arthur, but he did not know the boys who worked for William Ddole, was it one of them?
‘Who was it?’ He reached out and stopped her, pulling her to face him. ‘Olwen. Tell me what has happened.’
‘Stop pulling me about! Go away if you can’t be polite!’ she said, hands on hips, her shawl fluttering about her: a bird nervously preparing to fly.
Then she ran home and cried some more.
* * *
In church a few days later, Olwen slipped as usual into the pew behind the one used by William and occasionally by his guests. He was without family now and his solitary figure saddened her. She looked up at the plaque on the wall in memory of Dorothy Emelia Ddole and thought that with her gone, the man was completely lost. Sending his daughter away must have been difficult. She turned her head, saw Barrass’s face in the furthest shadows of the old building, and glared at him. He is so stupid, she thought with an impatient stamp of her small foot.
Ceinwen was there with Tom in his red and white uniform, but without Kenneth, who was still too scared to leave his house. Enyd stood with Dan, beside Mary, Spider, baby Dic and Mrs Powell. Olwen wished her position with the Ddole family did not prevent her from standing with them.
Pitcher was sitting with Emma and the twins, and a little away from them, with the two servants they kept, was Arthur, still employed, but watched by Emma like a dog with a specially juicy bone.
She watched as Violet came in, with Edwin, and carrying her baby. Her eyes drifted to where Barrass stood, just back from his deliveries on Gower, wondering if his face would show any disquiet, but he was looking away, staring up at the wooden carving on the roof timbers. Uninterested, she wondered? Or was he still in love with the daughter of the alehouse keeper? She shivered as the thought took hold. The young couple walked down the aisle and sat beside William Ddole, and were soon joined by John Maddern on one of his frequent visits. William had obviously invited them to sit with him as they were invited to sup that evening at Ddole House after the service.
When the service was done, Olwen hurried outside for a quiet word with her parents before Florrie ushered her back to prepare the meal. To her surprise, Florrie did not seem to be in her usual panic to get back, in spite of having guests to feed. She was talking to the Keeper of the Peace. His five children were there, all in a neat row, with the woman who looked after them silently waiting for Daniels to finish his conversation.
Dozy Bethan was standing nearby, waiting without any sign of impatience, and Olwen joined her.
‘But what shall I call you?’ Florrie was saying. ‘I can’t call you Daniels, now can I?’
Daniels lowered his head stiffly and said after a slight cough, ‘My name is Ponsonby, but I would prefer if you would continue calling me Daniels.’
Florrie soberly nodded agreement and both girls stifled giggles in their hands.
�
��Go you,’ Florrie scolded them, ‘get back and start on cutting the loaves!’
* * *
Barrass watched the Ddole party leave, then turned to see Violet coming out on her husband’s arm, the baby wrapped in soft woollen blankets against the evening coolness. People were stopping to admire the baby – his baby, yet he could never be even the smallest part of the little girl’s life. Gabriella. He savoured the name and liked it. Protected by her mother and even more so by the man she would call ‘Father’, she would probably not come into his sight again until she could walk into church on her own. A few tormentors came and congratulated him on the birth of his two daughters, and he acknowledged their jeering with cold, stony-eyed nods.
As he turned away to go to the alehouse for his meal, a hand touched his shoulder and he turned to see Markus with his manservant, standing behind him. There was no one else near, and the blind man looked up at him as if he could see him clearly, the touch of the shoulder all he needed to give him a guide. He said softly,
‘Barrass, we have a cargo coming in this night, will you help us with it?’
Barrass thought quickly, his first impulse being to refuse with slightly outraged disapproval, but he held back the retort and considered. The man was obviously offering an olive branch. He would be a fool to reject it. Then it became clear to him that this was a chance to prove what he had always insisted he felt, that he was a part of the village, a member of the community prepared to stand up and take his chances with the rest.
‘Thank you, Markus, I will be happy to help you.’
‘Eleven of the clock, boy. You will know where – the cave where you hid for a while and thought no one knew.’ The man chuckled and patted his arm before being guided back to his horse.
Summer’s Last Retreat Page 38