Honey's Farm

by Iris Gower

  Babies, according to Mam, were the ruination of a woman’s figure; their coming made the breasts and belly slack and put grey hairs on a woman before her time. Well, Gwyneth wanted none of that. She was proud of her firm body and she would keep it that way, at least until she had a wedding band safely on her finger. Then it might be a fine thing to have a son, a boy who looked just like William Davies. Hope filled Gwyneth’s blood like fine wine running in her veins. Tomorrow, she would see William; that was enough happiness to be going on with.

  It was later that day that a bit of good news came Gwyneth’s way. She was at the butcher’s, buying some fresh pork to make a meal for Will, when she heard the gossip.

  ‘Duw, that posh gallery of Eline Harries’s is being passed on to a new owner, then?’ Mr Bockford in his blood-stained apron was leaning on his cutting slab, talking to the girl who worked for Eline. Penny lifted her head as though to deny such loose-tongued gossip, but Mr Bockford was a handsome devil, and when he smiled it was enough to melt any girl’s heart, especially, Gwyneth saw with glee, that of a young girl like Penny.

  ‘Well, yes I suppose there’s no harm in you knowing,’ Penny agreed. ‘A Mr Calvin Temple is taking over, but not buying outright, mind; him and Eline will be partners, sleeping partners, they call it.’

  ‘Do they now.’ Mr Bockford took the liberty of pinching Penny’s cheek. ‘I could do with one of those myself.’

  Penny dimpled at him. ‘We all know what you are like with the ladies.’ Penny giggled. ‘Need copper drawers they do when you are around.’

  Gwyneth listened impatiently, longing for Penny to say more about this Mr Temple who had suddenly come on the scene. As though picking up her thoughts, Penny did just that.

  ‘He’s a lovely man, mind, young and handsome, nearly as handsome as you, Mr Bockford.’ Penny smiled up at him, and he put an extra rasher of bacon on the snow-white cloth she was holding towards him.

  ‘Soft on Eline, he is, mind. Anyone can see that,’ Penny continued. ‘If I was her, I’d marry him straight off, no trouble. Worth a fortune he is, so they say, and him such a gentleman.’

  ‘But Eline Harries was walking out with William Davies, wasn’t she?’ the butcher said, and, noticing Gwyneth, he nodded affably towards her. ‘Serve you now, Gwyneth, girl.’ His grin widened. ‘Always willing to serve the ladies, me.’

  Penny, becoming aware of Gwyneth’s presence, quickly paid the butcher and wrapped up her purchases. ‘I’d better be off then, if I’m to get any work done.’ She was wary of Gwyneth and loyal to Eline, and it was clear that she was annoyed with herself for having said so much.

  ‘Day to you, Mr Bockford,’ she said quickly and hurried past Gwyneth without looking in her direction. Gwyneth didn’t care. She felt elated. What a bit of luck; she had some juicy gossip that would surely drive the wedge between William and Eline deeper than it was already. She had no compunction about it; all was fair when it came to catching a man, and she would be more suitable for Will than Eline, who, when all was said and done, was a widow – used goods, so to speak.

  Gwyneth smiled to herself as she walked out into the sunshine, a good piece of roasting meat nestling in the dish in her arms, a nice bit of dripping surrounding it. She would add some fresh-cut carrots and potatoes and pop the lot into the oven to cook slowly. She would show Will what a good wife she could be to him.

  ‘Will is coming back tomorrow.’ Hari Grenfell looked elegant in a blue coat and matching skirt, but Eline scarcely noticed, so intent was she on what Hari was saying.

  ‘William has some business he wants to discuss with me,’ Hari continued, casually. ‘Would you like some iced coffee?’ she invited. Eline found herself agreeing, thankful that she had unexpectedly met Hari Grenfell in the street.

  Eline’s mind was racing. Had Gwyneth lied? But then, she had known about Will’s visit, even if she’d made it sound as if he was coming solely to see her.

  As she sat in Hari’s luxurious office watching her pour coffee for the both of them, Eline bit her lip, wishing for the niceties to be over and for Hari to talk some more about Will’s plans.

  As if reading Eline’s mind, Hari looked levelly at her for a moment before speaking. ‘I think it’s about time you two sorted things out,’ she said. ‘I know you’ll think I’m interfering in what doesn’t concern me, but I love Will dearly and I happen to think you two are meant for each other.’

  Eline forced a polite smile. ‘Will is so stubborn, he has such pride.’ She paused and sipped the coffee without tasting it. ‘I know the gallery was a barrier between us and I’ve brought in a partner to run the place.’

  ‘I see.’ Hari spoke slowly. ‘But what do you intend doing now?’

  Eline had thought very long and hard about just that question, and through the long, sleepless nights she had come to a decision.

  ‘I’m going to work at new designs for those children with defects of the feet and legs,’ she said. ‘We’ve both done work on those lines in the past, and I found it most rewarding.’ She smiled apologetically. ‘If that sounds pompous, I’m sorry.’

  Hari shook her head but didn’t comment, and after a moment Eline spoke again. ‘My life seems to have been taken up with trivialities, and I’ve got to do something about it before it’s too late.’

  ‘Do you need any help?’ Hari asked quietly. ‘I’d be glad to inject some funds into the project; it’s one dear to my heart, as you know.’

  ‘Thank you, but no. I want to do this alone. I’ll work with the less fortunate who can only afford one pair of boots, boots that have to last until they are outgrown. I’ll be renting the cheapest premises I can find and buying the most inexpensive leather. The boots and shoes will be functional, not fashionable.’

  ‘Sounds like a very good idea.’ Hari sounded doubtful. ‘But are you sure you could survive financially, like that?’

  ‘I must try,’ Eline said, and Hari nodded as though she realized there was no going back for Eline; she must go forward to a future she had mapped out for herself, a future that might or might not include William Davies. Hari’s smile was a little sad.

  ‘Don’t worry about me,’ Eline said. ‘I’ll survive. I always do, somehow.’

  If both women knew that, the words carried more bravado than conviction, none of them spoke of it.

  It was a fine sunny day and Gwyneth had the door of the cottage standing open. She had bathed and washed her hair in sweet-scented herbs and put on her best frock. It was one she had worn to work at Will’s shop, but she had deliberately left the top buttons of the bodice undone. If she had the charms, she might just as well show them, she reasoned.

  The beef was cooked and sliced, ready to serve, and on the table stood a bottle of Nina’s home-made wine. It was not a feast such as Will was accustomed to, but the food was good and well cooked, and the wine which Nina had laid down last year was fine and potent. Her mother would not be best pleased that Gwyneth had opened one of her precious bottles, but it was all in a good cause.

  Impatiently, Gwyneth waited in the doorway, staring longingly down the empty street. A dog lazed in the sun, spreading across the cobblestones like a fur carpet, paws outstretched as the animal luxuriated in the warmth of the day.

  Then, at last, the tall figure came into view. The springy step was unmistakable, and Gwyneth drew a sharp breath as she watched the man she loved coming towards her. She could scarcely breathe; he was here, William Davies was actually here.

  Common sense told her that his visit was simply business. He was paying her money he owed her, nothing more, but surely she must be able to make an occasion of it, make it a day he would never forget.

  She welcomed him into Mam’s parlour with bated breath, trying her best to seem at ease. ‘Please sit down by the window,’ she said. ‘I’ve got some nice wine for you and a plate of meat and oysters. I hope you’ll stay and eat with me.’

  He sank easily into the depths of the old, sagging sofa, his long legs spread out before
him. ‘That’s very kind, Gwyneth, but I’ll be having a meal with Hari – Mrs Grenfell – she’ll be expecting me.’

  ‘That’s all right.’ Gwyneth hid her disappointment. ‘But you’ll have a glass of wine, though, won’t you?’

  ‘Yes, of course I will.’ He sat up straighter, and Gwyneth knew her bodice had fallen open to reveal the curve of her breast as she bent forward over the glasses.

  She knew Will was watching her; he was a man after all, a young, strong red-blooded man. As far as Gwyneth knew, he hadn’t had a woman, not in the time she’d worked for him, anyway.

  He took the glass and smiled up at her. ‘I owe you an apology,’ he said. ‘I know it was wrong of me to go off so suddenly the way I did. I tried to contact you, but when I called round there was no-one in.’

  ‘It was a bit of a shock, mind, I won’t deny it,’ Gwyneth said. ‘You closing the shop so sudden, like, gave me a real turn.’

  ‘I can only apologize once again.’ Will lifted the glass in a salute.

  Gwyneth, encouraged, spoke softly. ‘I’ve missed you – I mean missed working for you.’ She sighed and topped up his glass. ‘I’ll have to look for something else, though what I don’t know, there’s nothing around here.’

  Will drank in silence, and Gwyneth knew, with a feeling of triumph, that he was feeling guilty. ‘I was going to ask Eline for a job,’ she said casually, ‘but I don’t know if that would be the wise thing to do.’

  She looked at Will from under her lashes, but his expression hadn’t changed. ‘But of course now she’s got a partner, she won’t want anyone else working for her.’

  ‘A partner?’ Will’s voice was equally casual, and Gwyneth knew with a dart of excitement that he hadn’t heard about this man, Calvin Temple, going into the gallery with Eline.

  ‘He’s so handsome,’ she enthused, ‘a fine gentleman and rich too, from what they say. A Mr Calvin Temple. I suppose you’ll have heard of him?’

  Will’s nod was non-committal. ‘I’ll have some more of that wine, if I may,’ he said. ‘It’s really quite good.’

  Willingly, Gwyneth refilled his cup; he didn’t realize, she felt sure, just how potent home-made wine could be.

  ‘Here.’ He reached in his pocket. ‘I’d better give you your wages before I forget.’ He fished about unsuccessfully for a moment, and Gwyneth sat down beside him, pouring wine neatly into his glass. The anger he felt against Eline Harries was making him careless, and he was drinking much too quickly.

  ‘Here, let me,’ she said breathlessly and leant across him, pressing herself close as though by accident. She heard his harsh in-drawn breath with a glow of exultation; he might think himself in love with the bloodless Eline but he needed a real woman to take care of him.

  He must have sensed her feelings, because he put his arm around her in what she believed was a protective gesture which quickly turned into an embrace. She turned her face up, so that his mouth was very close to hers, and closed her eyes, waiting for the kiss that must surely come.

  When his lips touched hers, such a fire of joy flared through her that she knew that she could not resist this man. She loved him so much that anything he desired, he could have.

  His kisses became more demanding, his lips parting hers. She took his hand and placed it against her breast, and after a moment, he reached inside her bodice, his fingers gentle and caressing.

  Her breathing became ragged and she clung to him, knowing that she must have him. If it was only to be this once, if he never came to her again, then so be it; but this moment would be hers.

  ‘Come upstairs, cariad,’ she whispered softly, and drew him towards the bedroom. ‘You need me, Will, come on, it will do no harm, let us enjoy the moment, shall we?’

  She was in bed then, in his arms, and he was undressing her slowly and deliberately. He was heady with the wine, but he was far from drunk, and Gwyneth was glad of it, for when he took her, he would remember it and want her again and again, she felt sure of it.

  He was a skilled lover, and she knew that she could not be the first with him. Gwyneth felt jealous of the unknown woman. Was it Eline? Had she been Will’s mistress all this time, and her pretending to be the good and upright wife of Joe Harries?

  Then, when he took her, all thoughts of anything else but his love-making faded. It was so wonderful, so all-consuming, that Gwyneth felt she was drowning in a sea of emotion and sensations.

  At last, it was over and they lay curled together side by side, she against his naked shoulder. How she loved this man, how she wanted him for all time.

  ‘Will,’ she said softly, ‘you’re not sorry, are you?’ He leant up on one elbow and looked down at her, his face sober.

  ‘No,’ he said, ‘I’m not sorry.’

  But as he covered her body with his own, desire urging him to take her once again, Gwyneth knew with a sinking of her heart that, well enough intended though his words were, they were lies.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ‘I intend to buy the fourteen acres belonging to Tommy’s mother.’ Jamie was seated at the kitchen table opposite Fon, his sleeves rolled up above his elbows, his strong arms browned by the sun. ‘Mrs Jones is not too well these days; she’s set on moving away to the town to be with her sister.’ He paused. ‘They’ll find the money from the land very useful.’

  Fon waited for him to go on.

  ‘We’d keep young Tommy with us, sure enough; perhaps he’d even want to cultivate a few acres for himself. Anyway, we could work all that out.’

  Fon looked at her husband doubtfully. ‘But, love, there’s the few head of cattle that graze those lands; we’d have to take them on as well.’ She sighed heavily. ‘Anyway, I can’t see why those few acres should be important to you.’

  Jamie shook his head at her as though he was exasperated by her lack of comprehension. He was frowning, but Fon felt compelled to air her reservations.

  ‘Our own herd is still recovering from the sickness, mind, and prices for cattle are falling; is this a good time to expand, do you think?’

  ‘Got to take the opportunity while it’s there, Fon,’ Jamie said shortly. ‘It could be crucial to us to own the ground rather than allow God knows what to go on alongside our fields.’

  He didn’t explain further, and Fon watched him as he flicked a page of the account book to look at the previous figures. ‘Anyway, one bad quarter doesn’t mean all that much,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Looking at last year’s profit, we should be well away come next spring.’

  ‘We’ve got the winter to see out first, though,’ Fon said, ‘and with more beasts to feed we’ll be hard put to find the fodder.’

  ‘You may be right,’ Jamie agreed, ‘but it’s buy now or lose the land.’ There was a note of determination in his voice.

  He looked directly at her then. ‘Bob Smale is keen to put in a bid. The land divides their farm from ours, and I don’t want that man as a close neighbour. Never did get on with him. A townie, he is, at heart.’ There was a wealth of scorn in Jamie’s voice. ‘Dabbles in newspapers while he neglects his land, letting it run wild. He only wants the Joneses’ land because I want it.’

  ‘He’s got a lovely daughter,’ Fon said. ‘I’ve seen her riding about the place, her silver hair streaming behind her.’

  ‘Aye,’ Jamie said, ‘she’s neglected too, from what I can see of it. A bad lot, is Bob Smale.’

  He paused and rubbed at his chin. ‘Anyway, Mrs Jones said she’d give me first chance of the land, her Tommy having worked here so long and me prepared to make a deal with him. I’d never have a better opportunity, you must see that.’

  Fon sighed. ‘Yes, I can see it’s tempting. All right, Jamie, but I’m worried. It don’t seem right to go spending out money at a time like this, that’s all.’

  Jamie caught her hand. ‘Don’t worry, I know what I’m about. I’ve not farmed all my life for nothing. Look, I’ve got more tatties than I need, haven’t I? We’ll sell some of them and some of the root crop
too. I’ve got to clear the fields soon in any case, and that means putting down the surplus crops and covering them over with grass until I can get shot of them. The sooner the better as far as I’m concerned.’

  ‘Tatties and carrots won’t bring in much, though,’ Fon said gently.

  Jamie rubbed back his fall of dark hair. ‘They will if I cart the stuff to the market in Swansea. Always wanting good clean vegetables down there, aren’t they?’

  ‘I suppose so,’ Fon conceded doubtfully, ‘though there’s plenty of competition from the Gower farms, mind.’

  Jamie closed the book with a snap of finality, and though he said no more, Fon knew that he meant to go his own way, whatever objections she raised.

  ‘How’s the black bull?’ Fon changed the subject. ‘Not taken sick since you started him with the cows, has he?’ She warmed to the smile that lit Jamie’s face.

  ‘The devil couldn’t be better! That bull is good and docile, now he’s serviced the herd. Looks as if we’ll have a fine new bunch of calves out of that prize bull of mine.’

  ‘You think the beasts are over the sickness, then?’ Fon asked anxiously. She had been worried that the cows would abort again, and, worse, that Jamie’s expensive bull would catch the sickness and die. That would be disaster indeed.

  ‘I told you, my little worrymonger, everything is going to be all right.’ Jamie stretched his arms above his head. ‘I think it’s time we went to bed, don’t you, wife o’ mine?’

  Later, as Fon lay curled in Jamie’s arms, her head against his chest, hearing the pounding of his mighty heart against her cheek, her worries seemed to disappear.

  Jamie knew what he was doing, she told herself. He had farmed in Ireland when he was a child. And once in Wales, he had taken over Honey’s Farm, building up a good stock of cattle for beef and for dairy products.

  Fon smiled to herself in the darkness; eventually, if Jamie added to his acreage, he would doubtless work hard and long to make a success of things. The fourteen acres Mrs Jones intended to sell was valuable; he was right, it was too good an offer to pass up.