by Iris Gower
Pearl nodded. ‘I’m all right, Watt. I’ve got over the whooping cough and I’m fit and well again.’
She did not mention the baby she lost while she was in bed coughing her lungs up. But then Pearl was made of sterner stuff than most. She knew that life was uncompromising and if she did not bend with the cold winds she would break.
‘I need to work, Watt,’ she said simply. She peered into the glaze. ‘I’m well pleased with this mix, it’s going to look fine on the new lot of pottery we’ve got waiting.’ She smiled though her eyes were shadowed.
‘You just make sure the kilns are heated to the right temperature. That’s not my responsibility, that’s down to you, boss.’ Her broad face crinkled into fine lines as she made a face at him.
Watt felt a rush of affection for her; Pearl was a good worker and had been a good friend to him, especially since Maura’s death. As if reading his thoughts, she sighed.
‘Life’s hard sometimes, Watt my love, and when sickness comes it gets even harder. Now, to change the subject, can you come over to my house? We’re having a little “do” as it’s my Rosie’s birthday.’
‘I didn’t know that,’ Watt said. ‘How old is she then?’
‘She’ll be eighteen come Saturday.’ Pearl fluttered her eyelashes at him in mock flirtation. ‘I don’t look old enough to have a girl that age, do I?’
‘Good heavens!’ Watt said. Rosie worked as Llinos’s maid and he had not really taken a great deal of notice of the girl. She was polite and sweet and, if he had thought of her at all, he had thought of her as a child. By way of comparison to his lost dear Maura, Rosie was a child.
‘No, you don’t look old enough,’ he said quickly.
‘Well? Will you come to the party then?’
Watt wanted to refuse; he was not ready for socializing, not yet. Pearl rested her hand on his shoulder.
‘You can’t grieve for the rest of your life, Watt, you have to get out there, face the world again. You’ve always been strong, you needed to be growing up without a mam or dad and I don’t want to see you lose your courage now.’
He hesitated and Pearl pressed home her advantage. ‘Our Rosie would be so pleased if you came, really she would. She admires you so much, she thinks the sun shines out of your . . .’ She smiled. ‘You know what I mean.’
That Rosie had even noticed him came as a surprise to Watt. He was sure Pearl was exaggerating in order to get her way. ‘All right,’ he said reluctantly, ‘but you won’t mind if I don’t stay long, will you?’ He patted her arm before moving away. Pearl meant well but Watt would much rather be alone now. Without Maura, life seemed to be empty. He supposed it was the thought that he had come full circle, he was alone again, without anyone who really cared if he lived or died.
He was being morbid and he knew it. Of course people cared, Llinos cared and so did Joe. His work-mates cared. ‘But,’ said a small voice in his head, ‘you have no-one to call your very own.’
When he finished work, Watt looked around the sheds, putting away brushes, picking up a few shards of pottery. The smell of the broken pots reminded him of his childhood. Well, he had come a long way since then. He was now virtually in charge of the entire pottery. It was his job to see that everything worked well from the throwing to the painting and glazing and then to the firing. He had his finger on the pulse of it all, he breathed in the atmosphere and loved it.
Once he had considered living in America, making his own way with dreams of becoming his own boss. But now, a little older and wiser, Watt realized that not everyone was cut out to be an owner of a business. He was quite content now to be a large cog in the wheel of the pottery.
It was probably Maura who had made him see that a successful life was not about owning things but about loving and being loved. Now that had been taken away from him, but he should be grateful that once he had experienced a deep and fulfilling love with Maura, something that was not given to everyone.
But God how he missed her! Sometimes he thought he saw her, the red hair, the bright eyes filled with love. He thought he heard her voice, felt her touch in the night. Perhaps she was still there somewhere, looking after him. If she was, would she be telling him to pull himself up by his bootstraps and live his life? He smiled suddenly. She would have doubtless put it more strongly than that.
He made an effort for Rosie’s party, dressing himself smartly in a crisp white shirt, dark trousers and fine leather boots. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, he was still a young man, not many years past twenty. Would he waste the long years that stretched out before him or would he try to make something out of the ruins of his emotions? It was up to him and he could hear Maura telling him that in no uncertain terms.
The little cottage where Pearl lived was about half a mile upriver from the potteries and Watt set out early, feeling that he would only need to pay his respects, stay a little while and then he would feel free to return home.
Her door, as were most of the doors in Fisherman’s Row, was open and the burst of laughter coming from inside the front room made Watt feel more alone than ever.
‘Come in, Watt!’ Pearl had a huge smile on her face. ‘My little girl had given up hope of seeing you. She’s that thrilled you’ve come. Wasn’t it kind of Llinos to give her the day off?’ Pearl took his arm and led him into the parlour. There were several small children in the room accompanied by their parents and Watt immediately felt out of place. He waved his hand at Pearl’s man Will. Will grimaced in sympathy and lifted the jug of beer to his lips as though determined to enjoy himself whatever the company.
‘Rosie, come here, the boss has arrived!’
Watt swallowed his surprise. He had only seen Rosie dressed in her dark skirt and white apron with a cap on her head. Now she was beautiful in a sprigged-muslin gown that showed her figure to perfection. A neat jacket covered her slender arms. She no longer appeared the child he had thought her.
‘Happy Birthday, Rosie.’ He handed her the small bunch of flowers he had brought, it seemed an appropriate gift, not too personal, but now he felt a little mean.
‘Isn’t he sweet!’ Pearl said and Watt raised his eyebrows at her. ‘You obviously control your colourful language when you’re at home,’ he said dryly.
‘Go on with you, stop teasing.’ She put her hand on Rosie’s shoulder, towering above her. ‘Didn’t I tell you that Watt was a wag? Now you talk to him while I see to the younger ones.’
Watt looked around in embarrassment. There was no sign of any other young men present, only older neighbours. It seemed that he had been fooled by Pearl, she was clearly trying to matchmake. With the best of intentions, she was trying to get him interested in her daughter.
He glanced at Rosie; she was just as uncomfortable as he was. She looked up briefly from under incredibly long, golden lashes. Why had he never noticed them before?
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I know you’ve just had a bereavement and you must be feeling awful.’ She sighed. ‘Mam’s a bit on the bossy side but she means well.’
‘Of course she does. Come on, let’s sit down and talk, make Pearl a happy woman, shall we?’
Rosie knew all about Maura and it was a relief for Watt to be himself, not to have to pretend he was ‘getting over it’ as people said. How could anyone get over losing the one they loved?
‘Are you very lonely?’ Rosie asked softly. She looked down at her hands clasped in her lap. ‘Of course you are, what a stupid question.’
‘Yes, I’m lonely,’ Watt agreed. ‘Sometimes I feel as if I’ll never be happy again.’
Tears welled in Rosie’s eyes; she got up and hurried out the room. Watt looked after her in bewilderment. Pearl came quickly to his side.
‘She had just started courting one of the local boys,’ she whispered. ‘Didn’t have a chance to see much of him, mind, her working up at Llinos’s house, but she was getting quite fond of young Philip. Poor lad died in the whooping-cough epidemic.’
‘I’m
a selfish swine!’ Watt said. ‘There I am so busy feeling sorry for myself, not realizing that other people can be hurt too. I’ll go after her.’
‘She’s out the back garden,’ Pearl said. ‘She needs some young company. Perhaps you two can help each other, be friends, fill in the emptiness. That’s all I wanted when my dear husband died.’ She smiled. ‘That’s why I took up with old Willie there, he’s a good man but he’ll never replace what I had with my husband.’
It was sunny in the garden if a little chilly. A wash of light fell across Rosie’s hair, turning it to gold. She was standing in the wild grass, tears rolling unchecked down her young face. Watt’s heart contracted in pity. He took her hands in his.
‘I know how you feel, Rosie, I really do. Perhaps we two unhappy people can be friends, can we?’
She nodded miserably and rubbed at her eyes with her fingertips. She looked so young and vulnerable that he longed to hold her in his arms and smooth back the hair that had tangled over her face.
‘I would like to have a friend,’ she said at last. ‘I have my family but they don’t really understand what I’m feeling. Everyone tells me I’ll get over it as if I’ve lost a pet cat or something.’ She glanced up at him. ‘In any case, Mam has her own worries, she’s not been right since she lost the baby. Can you see how pale and thin she is?’
‘I have noticed,’ he said. ‘But Pearl is a strong lady, she’ll be fine, you’ll see.’
She looked directly at him then, her smooth cheeks blotched with red patches where she had rubbed at her tears. He took her arm. ‘Let’s sit down there on the wall for a bit, shall we?’
She allowed him to take her hand and lead her to the back of the garden where a rugged stone wall made a boundary between her own house and the one back to back with it.
‘Your sweetheart, do you want to talk about him?’ He sounded like an old man he thought ruefully but he really felt for Rosie, he could understand her distress.
‘Philip was so good to me.’ Her voice broke. ‘I’d known him since I was a little girl. He used to protect me from the other boys, he said he had always wanted to walk out with me.’ She put her hands over her face. ‘And then, when I saw him coughing up his very life, I couldn’t bear it. I ran out and left him and he died without me there to hold his hand. I can never forgive myself for that.’
He drew her hands away from her face and pulled her to him. ‘Look, Rosie, you did your very best for Philip and he wouldn’t blame you for not wanting to see him die, I know he wouldn’t.’
‘How do you know?’ Her voice was muffled against his chest.
‘I know because I’m a man too and I would not want to put my loved one through such misery.’ He smoothed her hair and somehow, the knot of pain that had stuck in his throat since he had put Maura in the ground began to dissolve, just a little.
‘Come on!’ He rose from the wall. ‘Dry your eyes. You and me have got a party to go to.’ As he took Rosie’s hand and led her back into the house, a little light of hope lit within him, hope that one day he would find love again.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Llinos stared out of the window of the hotel and watched the sea rush in towards the shore. The coast of Cornwall was very much like that of Wales and she felt at home there, but she was missing her son badly.
Joe was sitting near the small table in the corner of the room, sipping a glass of lemon tea. ‘I brought you here for a reason,’ he said. ‘I want to have you all to myself, to talk to you seriously about something that has been troubling me.’
She turned sharply. ‘Couldn’t we have talked at home?’
‘No, we couldn’t,’ Joe said firmly. ‘You are so busy with your business that you sometimes forget you have other obligations.’
‘And you, my dear husband, are absent from home more than you are present!’ She heard the sharpness of her tone and took a deep breath.
‘I’m sorry, Joe.’ She looked up at him anxiously. ‘What’s gone wrong between us?’
He hesitated and Llinos held her breath. ‘When I was in America, when I buried my mother, it was all so painful. She asked a favour of me, a favour I couldn’t refuse.’
‘What sort of favour?’ She spoke tersely. ‘Surely it can’t be anything important enough to come between you and me, can it?’
‘Don’t lose your temper,’ he said gently. ‘I’m trying to explain how I feel. Look, I know I am away a lot but when I am at home you are busy with your friends or your employees and we have no time to talk.’
‘That’s not fair!’ Llinos said. ‘I am not the one sleeping in another room. We used to talk in bed as well as make love. Remember what making love is?’
‘Is that all that worries you, Llinos, that we don’t sleep together? You can be so selfish at times!’ He leaned forward. ‘When I am there, I feel like a stranger in my own home.’
‘So making love is something to be ashamed of now, is it?’ She turned away from him, her shoulders stiff. ‘I don’t feel I’ve been neglecting you or our marriage. Indeed, it is the other way about, so why are you putting the blame on me? Aren’t you big enough to shoulder some of the blame yourself?’
‘Perhaps you’d better take a good look at yourself.’ His tone sharpened. ‘You are usually too tired to talk about my business, my feelings; it’s you, you, you all the damned time!’
Llinos felt her colour recede. She had been neglecting her appearance lately but then if Joe loved her he would understand. ‘I thought you of all people would accept my need to occupy myself with other things.’ Had he forgotten that she had lost her baby and still felt the ache of it?
‘You are obsessed with the business,’ Joe said. ‘You make sure you fully occupy yourself to the exclusion of everything else.’
‘So I want my business, my father’s business, to flourish. Is that a crime? You see, Joe, I am not just there for you to pick up and put down just as you please. So how dare you tell me I’m not a good wife?’
‘At the moment you do not seem much like a wife at all.’ He rose abruptly and put his glass carefully on the table. ‘I don’t want to argue with you, Llinos, but you are being stubborn; you’re not even trying to see my point of view. I try to explain things to you and all you do is throw accusations at me and paint yourself as the neglected wife! You can’t see any fault in yourself, only faults in me. Well I’ve had enough of it, I’m going to take a walk along the cliffs until my temper improves and my mind is clear.’
‘Don’t you dare walk out on me!’ Llinos said to his retreating back. The door closed firmly and she was alone.
How could he treat her this way? Joe was usually so calm, so wise and now he was acting like a stranger. So she was not some foolish socialite of a woman who flattered and danced attendance on her man. If that’s what Joe wanted he had married the wrong person.
She opened the door of the wardrobe and pulled out her bag and, with tears of anger burning her eyes, Llinos began to pack. To hell with Joe and his talks; if he only wanted to tell her how bad a wife she was she was not going to listen.
She felt her throat choked with tears. She loved Joe so much, she thought this trip would solve the differences between them. How wrong she had been. All she wanted now was the familiar surroundings of her own home. She longed to creep into bed and hide away from the world. And the one man who should be comforting her was Joe and he had failed her miserably.
‘Talk to me, Binnie, tell me what’s troubling you.’ Hortense looked at her husband, at his white face, and fear began to churn in her stomach. He had been acting strangely for some time now. It was something to do with John Pendennis, she was sure of it. And if it took her all day, she meant to find out exactly what was going on.
The sweet scent of honeysuckle drifted through the window, the sun-warmed room was bathed in a refreshing breeze. She was alone with Binnie; the boys were on a trip with their grandfather, a trip Hortense had engineered in an attempt to get Binnie alone.
‘Talk to me, Binnie.�
� Her voice held a note of urgency and he looked away from her.
‘Hortense, love, do we have to discuss this now?’ He got to his feet and stood at the window. Hortense stared at his rigid back and tried to remain calm.
‘There is no putting me off, not this time. What are you hiding, Binnie? For the Lord’s sake tell me, I’m going mad with the worry of it.’
She watched as he thrust his hands into his pockets and she noticed suddenly that he had lost weight. A shiver of apprehension ran along her spine.
‘Are you sick, Binnie hon?’ She could hear the tremble in her voice and when Binnie turned and shook his head, she knew he had heard it too.
‘I’m not sick, my love.’ He took her in his arms, pressing her close against him. ‘Just sick at heart.’
‘Just tell me the truth,’ she said. ‘Whatever it is we’ll handle it together, just don’t keep me in the dark.’
He released her. ‘Sit down.’ He swallowed hard and reluctantly she obeyed him. She stared up at him, trying to read the truth in his eyes.
‘You don’t look well, Binnie, you’ve lost weight and you’re so pale. I’m that worried about you, hon.’
‘I’m not ill, it’s not that.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Look, the truth is John has been trying to blackmail me.’ He did not meet her eyes; his head was bent so that she could not see his expression.
‘What on earth could John blackmail you about, Binnie? Your life is an open book. You don’t have women like Daddy does; you are a loyal faithful husband. Aren’t you?’
‘Yes, I am faithful to you, Hortense. I love you more than my own life and as for the boys, I would die for them, you know that.’
‘So what is it then? Spit it out, Binnie, for God’s sake!’
‘I was married before.’ The words were almost a whisper. ‘I was married to an Irish girl back home in Swansea. We were only together a short time when I realized I didn’t love her and I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life with her.’
Hortense tried to absorb the shock; she felt physically sick, as though she had been punched. He had a woman before her, how could he? Anger and jealousy rushed through her like bubbling wine. She wanted to beat him with her fists for lying to her, for having another woman in his life.