Sweet Rosie

by Iris Gower

  ‘I want my boys to have a legitimate father and that is the only reason I’m doing this. Once we’re wed, you can get out of my life for good, do you understand?’

  ‘I love you, Hortense,’ he said and he sounded desperate. ‘I’ve always loved you.’ He stood hands to his side; he seemed lost, defeated. Was that an act too?

  ‘I suppose you told your wife that, did you?’

  He shuffled his feet and she stood waiting, not letting him off the hook. ‘Well?’

  He sighed heavily. ‘It was a mistake.’ He shook his head. ‘I was young, I didn’t really think things through. As soon as I got married I knew it was the wrong thing for me to do. I knew even then it would never work.’

  ‘And what about the wife and child you deserted so callously?’ It hurt unbearably to think of Binnie, her man, in the arms of another woman. She could picture him in the church, making vows he never intended to keep. He opened his mouth to speak.

  ‘Don’t talk about the past!’ she said. ‘It was never my intention to let you make excuses. All I want is to put things right. To be a legal wife not a whore.’

  She sighed. ‘For now,’ she said, ‘you can sleep in the back bedroom. If you stay down at Mammy’s house folk will only talk.’

  His face lit up but Hortense hardened her heart. ‘That does not mean you are coming home to live like before.’ She glared at him. ‘You are not getting into my bed!’ she said. ‘You don’t touch me, not ever again, understand?’

  He was willing to agree to anything. Hortense felt a great sadness as she looked at him. She believed he loved her; she had felt his love wrap around her on nights that would have been cold and lonely without him. But to him she must have been a golden opportunity to live a life of ease. He had everything to gain, everything provided for him by his wife’s daddy. But she was not his wife, she reminded herself numbly.

  ‘In a few days you can go up river, find a preacher man who does not know me or my family.’ She swallowed hard. ‘It won’t heal things between you and me so don’t think that. Nothing alters the fact that you sired three bastards!’

  Binnie was white-faced; he loved the boys, didn’t he? And yet he could leave his legitimate child, walk away from his daughter without compunction. He was weak, a man ruled by greed, and she hated him.

  A week later they were married. When they returned home from the trip the family were gathered to have a party. Food was spread out on the pristine cloth in the dining room and her family were done up in their Sunday best ready to greet the couple who had gone away to patch up their quarrel. If only they knew.

  Jo hugged her. ‘You’ve done the right thing,’ she whispered. Josephine was the only one of her family who knew the truth but how long before John Pendennis got himself drunk and told the whole neighbourhood?

  There was a flurry of greetings, kisses and hugs, and Hortense felt as though she was acting a part, the part of a happy wife. What a farce it all was. Melia was sitting quietly in the corner and John was on the other side of the room, as far away from her as he could get.

  The rat! Hortense thought. He had sown his wild oats with Melia, had betrayed his wife, and now he was acting as if nothing had happened. Why hadn’t Jo got shot of him?

  ‘I can’t,’ Jo said reading her thoughts. ‘I’m going to give him another chance.’

  ‘Why?’ Hortense asked, her voice low. Her parents were talking to Binnie, engrossed in conversation.

  ‘I’m pregnant,’ she said. ‘It’s what I’ve been longing for, you know that. Perhaps if we have a child together John will change.’

  Hortense doubted it; being a father had made no difference to Binnie, none at all. But she smiled at her sister and squeezed her hand.

  ‘You’re right, hon, you stick it out. I’m sure John’s had such a fright that he won’t do anything like it again.’

  Josephine smiled. ‘I’m sure he won’t,’ she said. ‘I’ve told him if he strays again I’ll cut his balls off!’

  Hortense found herself smiling in spite of her misery. She hoped Jo could tame John, could stop him running round after women like a stray tomcat. But one thing that could be said in his favour, at least he had not committed bigamy. Men were men; look at her father. Perhaps she could have forgiven Binnie for a fling with another woman but his deceit went much deeper than that.

  The boys were happy to see their mother and father together again. The younger ones came into the room and flung themselves at Binnie whooping with joy. Only Dan, the eldest, stood back, his expression guarded. He was a sober-minded boy, very adult for his age, and Hortense wondered how much of the situation Dan understood.

  She ate very little of the party food and after a while she found the atmosphere stifling. She wandered out onto the porch and sank into the rocking chair. She felt like a very old woman, a woman whose life was over. She longed to cry but she had to keep up the pretence that she and Binnie were reconciled. She looked up when Mammy joined her.

  ‘You’re not a happy little girl, are you, hon?’ Mrs McCabe was not a woman easily fooled.

  ‘I’m all right, Mammy,’ Hortense said. ‘I suppose the honeymoon had to be over some time.’ She looked at her mother. ‘How did you feel the first time you knew about Daddy’s women?’

  ‘Ah, so that’s what this is all about, Binnie been sowing some wild oats, has he?’ She seemed quite relieved. ‘Well, we women don’t like it but they is men and men sometimes act like goats, you jest gotta get used to it.’

  Hortense did not bother to correct her mother. ‘But, Mammy, how can you bear to think of Daddy sleeping in the arms of another woman, deceiving you an’ all?’

  Her mother laughed. ‘He never deceived me, not for one little ole minute, hon! I knowed what he was up to from the word go.’

  ‘And you let him?’

  ‘Sure I let him. How could I stop him? But I made sure the girls were clean, no sickness in them, you know what I mean? Those girls come from good families and when your daddy is tired of them, he gives them a nice little nest-egg to start up a new life.’

  Hortense shook her head. ‘Your ways are old-fashioned, Mammy,’ she said. She thought of Josephine and her threat to cut off John’s balls and smiled.

  ‘What’s tickling you, hon?’ her mother asked.

  ‘Just something Jo said. Come on, Mammy, we’d better go inside, otherwise they’ll all be wondering where we’ve got to.’

  ‘One thing,’ Mrs McCabe said softly, ‘your man is a good man and he loves you. Whoever he took to his bed, it meant nothing, it’s what men do. The wife and children are the important things and anyone try to take that away and a man will fight to the death to protect them.’

  ‘I’m sure you’re right, Mammy.’ Hortense took her mother’s arm, knowing that her heart was broken, Binnie had feet of clay; their marriage would never be the same again. Perhaps she would grow to tolerate Binnie in time but never, never while she breathed would she forgive him for what he had done.

  Llinos sat in the garden with Lloyd at her side. He was drawing pictures, his small face screwed up in concentration. He was still pale but his strength was coming back and he was improving from day to day.

  He had quite a flair for drawing and, surreptitiously, Llinos looked over his shoulder. He had drawn a pattern of flowers, quite a good drawing for a child his age. Llinos sat quietly watching her son. He should have more art lessons. Eira was quite a good teacher but it might be a good idea for one of the factory artists to give Lloyd tuition.

  She spoke to Joe about it that night as they prepared for bed. Since his return home, she felt he was softening towards her. True he had not come to her bed but, still, his smile was warmer, his tone kindly. Perhaps she had imagined it all. Now he seemed to be there in body but where was his spirit?

  ‘Let the boy develop at his own pace, Llinos.’

  It sounded like a rebuke. She stared at Joe, his face silvered by the moonlight. He was so handsome it hurt her to look at him.

  �
��I can’t do right for doing wrong, can I!’ she demanded. ‘Tell me, Joe, have you fallen out of love with me, is there someone else?’

  ‘Yes, if you must know, there is someone else.’ He kept his back to her.

  ‘So you are being unfaithful to me!’ The shock was like a physical blow. ‘Who is it, Joe? Tell me.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Llinos, I tried to explain things to you in Cornwall but I couldn’t. I just knew you would never understand.’

  Anger followed the shock, such anger as Llinos had never felt before. ‘So you take another woman and the fault is mine, is that what you are saying?’ Her voice rose and Joe turned to look at her.

  ‘I have no intention of getting into a brawl with my wife!’ he said. ‘I’m going into the dressing room, I need to sleep.’ He had put up a barrier once more and she knew she would never penetrate it. She wanted to beat at him with her fists, to make him take notice of her.

  ‘Do you love her, this other woman, more than you love me?’

  He did not reply. She saw his hair, long and sleek, hanging over his shoulders. He hesitated for a moment in the doorway.

  ‘Joe, don’t just ignore me, if you’ve anything to say then say it. Are you going to leave me?’

  He stood tall and majestic washed in the light from the window. ‘I’ve got nothing to say.’ The door was closed quietly, shutting him away from her.

  Llinos buried her face in the pillow, too hurt to cry. They had loved each other so much; what had gone wrong between them? She hardly slept; the rest of the night passed slowly, hour by hour while Llinos tried to come to terms with the fact that Joe was with another woman, making love to her. No wonder his absences from home had grown longer and more frequent.

  In the morning, Llinos dragged herself from bed to find the dressing room empty and the sun poking through the curtains. She had slept late and her head felt heavy. Downstairs, she joined Charlotte in the dining room and picked at her food. There was no sign of Joe; he must have left the house early.

  ‘What’s wrong, Llinos?’ Charlotte’s voice broke into her thoughts and Llinos looked up quickly.

  ‘Nothing, really. Lloyd is almost his old self. I’m thinking of getting someone to give him more art tuition. I would like him to try painting on chinaware.’

  ‘I didn’t ask about Lloyd,’ Charlotte said quietly. ‘I’m an old woman, Llinos, I found love late but Sam was the best thing that ever happened to me. Now I’m alone and I miss him every minute of every day. Don’t throw away what you and Joe have because of a silly quarrel.’

  ‘I am not throwing anything away!’ Llinos said. ‘I have tried my best to talk to Joe, to understand him but he just blocks me out of his life.’ Llinos heard the note of despair in her own voice. ‘The truth is, Charlotte, he has another woman.’

  Charlotte shook her head. ‘No, I don’t believe that.’ She looked down at her hands. ‘Perhaps he’s not very well or in a mood; men get like that sometimes, at least my father did.’

  Llinos was silent. She did not want to inflict her own pain on Charlotte; Charlotte loved Joe, could believe no wrong of him. It was not fair to disillusion her.

  ‘Did you see him this morning? Did he say anything before he left the house?’

  Charlotte shook her head. ‘No, he’d left by the time I got up. Still perhaps it’s just as well, he probably needs some time alone to think. Men can be so difficult. My father was a difficult man; he couldn’t talk about his troubles. His feelings were kept tightly locked inside him. I know Joe seems different but perhaps there is more of Father in him than I thought.’

  Llinos sighed. There was no point in going on with the conversation, Charlotte knew no more about Joe than she did.

  Later, Llinos called Watt into the house. ‘Sit down, love.’ She smiled affectionately at him. ‘I have to talk to you.’

  ‘Is anything wrong?’ Watt looked concerned.

  ‘No, not wrong.’ She hesitated. ‘I just want to take a back seat in the business, be here with my family more than I have been.’ She tried to smile. ‘So Watt, my boy, you are now in charge of the pottery, completely in charge. I know you can handle it so don’t look so worried.’

  Watt rubbed his fingers through his hair. ‘I’m not worried about handling the pottery,’ he said. ‘I live and breathe the pottery. No, it’s you I’m worried about. I’ve never heard you talk like that before, the pottery has always been so important to you.’

  ‘Not so important that I can risk losing Joe over it,’ she said quietly. Watt stared at her for a long time. It was clear he was trying to think of the right thing to say.

  ‘Am I losing him, Watt? You’re a man, can you tell me what I’ve done to turn Joe away from me?’ She could not even mention to Watt the fact that Joe had another woman; it was far too painful.

  ‘Nothing!’ Watt said quickly. ‘If Joe has problems they are his problems.’ He held out his hands to her. ‘Look, Llinos, we always hurt the one we love, you know that. If Joe is worried he’ll take it out on his nearest and dearest, even Joe’s human, cariad.’

  She smiled involuntarily. ‘It’s a long time since you’ve called me “sweetheart” and in Welsh too!’

  ‘Well, I love you like a sister, you know that, Llinos. But stop worrying, let your man work out things for himself.’ He smiled apologetically. ‘That’s the trouble with women, they try to see inside us, try to turn us inside out. It just doesn’t work.’

  ‘I suppose you’re right.’ Llinos suddenly felt a little better. Everyone seemed to be telling her she was not at fault, that Joe would be back given time. Perhaps he would get this other woman out of his system and then he would realize that it was Llinos he loved.

  ‘Thank you, Watt,’ Llinos said. ‘Now go and be boss and make sure my pottery flourishes, right?’

  ‘Right.’ He let himself out and Llinos could hear him whistling as he walked down the drive. At least she had made Watt feel better; the work gave him something to think about, something to take his mind off Maura.

  Maura was dead and gone, out of reach for ever. Joe was still alive and well and so long as they both breathed, Llinos knew she and Joe would never be able to live apart. One day he would come home and then he would be hers again.

  CHAPTER TEN

  ‘So you’re a big boss, now?’ Rosie was looking up at him with something like awe in her young face. Watt smiled and ruffled her hair.

  ‘That’s just a name, love, I’m doing the same job but for more pay, that’s the truth of it.’

  ‘Get away from here!’ Rosie said. ‘You’re an important man, Watt Bevan, and don’t pretend to be ordinary like me, ’cos I don’t believe you.’

  They were walking along the river-bank towards the place where the waters of the Tawe ran into the sea. The long stretch of the bay reached from Swansea to Mumbles and there the grey rocks crouched like old men dipping their toes in the sea. It was a lovely summer day and Watt felt glad to be alive. And then he felt guilty because Maura was dead. He could picture her now, so beautiful with her red hair tangled over her shoulders and her sensuous mouth inviting his kiss. Maura had given him a taste of what real loving was all about. They should have been together for ever, instead death had snatched her away from him.

  ‘That woman is staring at you,’ Rosie said nudging him. ‘See, she can’t take her eyes off you.’

  Watt looked at the woman and a shock ran through him like a burst of strong wine.

  ‘Hello, Watt, remember me?’ She looked up at him, her mouth curving into a smile.

  ‘Lily! I thought you’d left Swansea to get married?’

  She looked tired. Her eyes were shadowed and she was much thinner than he remembered. Once he had been in love with her, the love of a green youth, but he had got over that a long time ago.

  ‘My husband died, Watt, so I’ve come home.’

  ‘So I see.’ His tone was dry; he had no intention of renewing their relationship. Not that they had had a relationship. He had wanted her, lust
ed after her perhaps. She had wanted, well, he had never been sure what she had wanted.

  Lily seemed to be waiting for him to say something more and Watt felt uncomfortable. ‘What are you doing now, still painting pottery?’ he asked, more from a need to break the silence than because he was really interested.

  Lily shook her head. ‘No, I thought I’d have a change. I’ve started work at Howell’s grocery store, I’m on my way there now.’

  ‘Oh, that’s a pity, you were always such a talented painter.’ He spoke before he had time to think. Lily blushed and looked down at her hands. The tips were browned by potato dust. ‘Thank you, Watt, you don’t know how much it means to me to hear you say that.’

  ‘Well, I’d better be off then.’ Watt became aware of Rosie at his side, moving restlessly from one foot to the other.

  ‘Sorry, I’ve been keeping you,’ Lily said quickly. She was so different, so beaten that Watt felt sorry for her.

  ‘Look,’ he said, ‘where are you lodging? I’ll try to come to see you, shall I? Perhaps we can find you a better job, something more suited to your talents.’

  ‘I’m at Dai Vaughan’s lodging house, just until I find something better,’ Lily said. She must have seen Watt’s frown because she sounded defensive when she spoke again.

  ‘It’s just temporary, like. I’ll get somewhere better when I earn enough money to pay for it.’

  ‘So, Lily, have you learned a lot from your past mistakes, then?’ Watt said softly. ‘No-one gives you anything for nothing, in this life we all have to work for what we have.’

  ‘I know.’ Her meekness was out of character and it was also very appealing. Watt told himself he was a fool but as he took Rosie’s arm and walked away, he felt a lightness in his heart that had been absent since Maura died.

  ‘You should stay away from that woman!’ Rosie had sensed his feelings. She looked up at him, her mouth a prim line of disapproval. ‘My mam told me about Lily. She acted so high and mighty and then caused nothing but trouble for Mrs Mainwaring.’