Honey's Farm

by Iris Gower

  Where Jamie had the look of the outdoors about him, Will Davies was paler of countenance, a fact due, no doubt, to the hours he spent indoors selling boots and shoes.

  ‘Will is working in Cardiff now,’ Gwyneth said when the two men had shaken hands in greeting. There was a proprietary tone in her voice that Fon didn’t fail to notice. ‘Came all the way down to Swansea specially to see me, and so I persuaded him to come to the fair.’

  ‘Bamboozled the poor man into it, more like,’ Nina said, smiling. ‘Only came down on business, that’s the truth of it, and you dragging him out for the day, shameless hussy.’

  ‘Do you good, won’t it, Will?’ Gwyneth protested, laughing up at the man at her side.

  ‘I suppose I was glad of a day off myself,’ he agreed. ‘It’s good to be out of doors in weather like this.’

  ‘Aye, and that shop Mrs Bell runs in Cardiff is as dark as a grave,’ Gwyneth said, displaying her knowledge of Will’s working conditions.

  ‘Let’s go and get a mug of ale.’ Jamie spoke to Will, but he winked at Fon. ‘Give these ladies a chance to talk among themselves.’

  ‘Give you men a chance to get away from us for a while and fill your bellies with beer, more like,’ Nina said good-naturedly. ‘I could do with a little drop of something myself, but we won’t keep you men cornered, we’ll drink ours alone.’

  The women followed the men to the large tent erected at the edge of the fairground and sat in a huddle around a table covered with a cloth which bore the imprint of more than one mug of cordial, judging by the circular stains on it.

  The women talked together good-humouredly. Though Fon was listening, her eye was on Jamie, who stood with Will Davies near the entrance to the tent.

  She and Jamie were never far apart, she thought, with a small dart of surprise; even when he was in the fields, she saw him at regular intervals and much of the time worked side by side with him.

  ‘Oh, blast!’ Gwyneth said sharply. ‘Trust that Eline Harries to poke her nose in where she’s not wanted.’

  Fon saw Eline pause uncertainly in the doorway of the tent and look round as though searching for someone. Will too was looking at Eline and, after a moment’s hesitation, approached her, a worried look on his face. Fon, glancing at Gwyneth, saw her bite her lip.

  Eline only glanced briefly at Will, though she did appear to be saying something to him. She seemed uneasy, almost embarrassed, Fon thought. Then she saw Eline smile in recognition as a man who had his back to Fon moved to Eline’s side, taking her arm in a proprietary manner and drawing her away from Will.

  Gwyneth, seated beside Fon, gave a small sigh of relief. ‘Good! She’s meeting that Calvin Temple,’ she said. ‘He’s the man who’s running the gallery for her.’

  Gwyneth rose and moved swiftly across the tent, dodging between the crowds until she reached Will’s side. Casually, she slipped her arm through his, and he looked down at her with a somewhat strained smile.

  Fon knew then that Will was not in love with her sister; they had something between them but on his part at least it was not love.

  ‘I hope that girl is keeping herself respectable,’ Nina said, as though picking up Fon’s thoughts. ‘It does no good to give a man your all unless there’s a gold band around your finger.’

  She rested her hand on Fon’s shoulder in a rare moment of tenderness. ‘I’m happy for you, my girl,’ she said, ‘happy that you’ve got a good husband, a man who will look after you properly. You of all my girls deserve that.’

  ‘I love him, Mammy,’ Fon said. ‘But Gwyneth is in love too, and it’s not easy when you’re second choice.’

  ‘What are you talking about, Fon?’ Nina asked. ‘I know your Jamie was married before, but that makes no difference; you are his wife now and mammy to his son. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, my girl.’

  She hardly paused for breath. ‘As for William Davies choosing our Gwyneth for second best, at least he’s single and a free man and that uppity Eline Harries doesn’t own him. It’s fair enough for your sister to set her cap at him, mind.’

  ‘I know.’ Fon was relieved to see Jamie coming back across the tent towards her.

  At the entrance, Gwyneth was waving her arm in a gesture of farewell. ‘Come on, Mam,’ she called, ‘we’re going home.’

  She disappeared outside and Nina rose to her feet. ‘Right then, it looks as if I’ve got my marching orders; better be off before they go without me. Take care of my little girl,’ she said to Jamie, who had come to stand behind Fon with his hand resting on her shoulder.

  Fon smiled up at her husband. ‘My family are a bit much, I know,’ she said. ‘They talk loud, but they mean well.’

  ‘Come on,’ Jamie said, ‘let’s enjoy the fair before Patrick gets too tired and wants to go home to bed.’

  ‘Do you have to go back to Cardiff tomorrow?’ Gwyneth’s voice intruded into Will’s thoughts. He looked down and saw that her lip was trembling. ‘I wish you could stay for a little while. I do miss you when you’re away.’

  ‘I’ve got work to do,’ Will said patiently. He felt such a heel; here he was with Gwyneth, and his thoughts were occupied by Eline Harries.

  He took a deep breath, fighting the burning feeling of jealousy that the sight of her with Calvin Temple had evoked. He had wanted to smash the man in the face, take Eline’s arm and drag her away from the fairground by force. But what had he to offer her? Not marriage – he was no better off now than he’d been when he closed his shop – and certainly not fidelity – for he had been unfaithful more than once with Gwyneth Parks.

  It was true that with the wages Hari Grenfell was so generously paying him, his debts were lessening month by month, but he was in no position to take a wife, any wife. He glanced guiltily down at Gwyneth. To be truthful, there was only one wife he wanted, and that was Eline, who was far out of his reach.

  He sighed. He knew he was not being fair to Gwyneth; he was in effect stringing her along, lacking the moral courage to tell her that he did not want her. It wasn’t that he was cowardly; he would square up to any man; but deliberately to destroy Gwyneth’s hopes and dreams took a great deal of courage. Yet things could not be allowed to drift on as they were. He must end the silly, foolish affair with Gwyneth; he had not wanted it to happen in the first place.

  Gwyneth, as though sensing that he was far away, reached up suddenly and kissed him. ‘I love you so much, Will,’ she said, the contours of her face softened. ‘I didn’t know it would be like this, this tearing at me whenever you look at another woman. Jealousy is an awful thing, isn’t it, Will?’

  He knew exactly what she meant. Hadn’t he felt ready to kill at the sight of Eline even talking to another man? He wished now that he had not agreed to Gwyneth accompanying him to the train stop. If only he had left her at her mother’s door. And yet he’d wanted an opportunity to talk to her, to be honest with her. But that opportunity had not come.

  To his relief, the train came into sight, the horses dragging at the carriage, which appeared to rock, precariously, along the metal lines.

  ‘I’ll see you soon, won’t I?’ Gwyneth said pleadingly, ‘and you’ll write to me some time in the week? Let me know when you’re coming home, please, Will.’

  He squeezed her hand; perhaps writing to her, trying to explain his position, would be less hurtful than rejecting her face to face.

  ‘I’ll write, if I can,’ he said, and climbed aboard the Mumbles train with a feeling of relief, glad to be heading back towards Swansea.

  As he sat staring out at the placid sea, he knew that he must try to see Eline; he had to talk to her about the shop in Cardiff. There, with them working side by side, perhaps he could re-establish the warmth there had once been between them.

  He remembered with an ache how cool Eline had been when she’d seen him at the fairground. She’d barely been civil, had refused to meet his eyes. Instead, her own eyes had been searching the crowd for a glimpse of Calvin Temple. How Will would ha
ve loved to take the supercilious smile from the face of the man whose proprietary manner towards Eline set his teeth on edge.

  Well, he was on his way back to Swansea now. He would stay the night with Hari and Craig, talk about business and have a meal with them; and tomorrow he would be back in Cardiff, not knowing what Eline’s future plans might be. The thought caught him by the throat and almost choked him. He stared out at the moving landscape beyond the train window and knew that he had never felt so miserable in all his life.

  ‘Something’s wrong.’ Jamie’s voice roused Fon from the half-sleep into which she had fallen. In her arms, Patrick was a heavy weight; sweat beaded his brow as he slept, and as Fon struggled to sit up he curled into a ball on the floor of the cart.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Fon pushed herself to her knees and stared towards the farmhouse, unable to see anything amiss.

  ‘I don’t know, but I don’t like the look of things.’ He pointed. ‘See, there’s no smoke coming from the chimneys.’

  ‘But where are the labourers?’ she said quietly, and Jamie stared across the grass towards the house, straining to see in the growing gloom of evening.

  ‘That’s what I’d like to know,’ he said quietly. He rode the horse into the yard and Fon looked around with a feeling of dismay. Everywhere there was chaos. Dead hens were strewn across the dry earth, and feathers drifted about in the breeze.

  ‘Stay here,’ Jamie ordered and as he disappeared into the farmhouse, Fon shuddered, wondering if someone was there, lying in wait for him.

  He returned a few minutes later, his face strained. ‘It’s a mess,’ he said. ‘You’d think there’d been a hurricane in there.’

  He lifted Fon from the cart and took Patrick in his arms. ‘Come on inside,’ he ordered, and walked ahead of her with rapid strides.

  Although she had been warned, Fon couldn’t have anticipated the scene of destruction that met her eyes. Furnitute was overturned and crockery smashed. Cushions lay about the place oozing feathers, and the big pot of soup that had been hanging over the fire was tipped all over the floor.

  ‘What’s happened, has the bull got loose and come in here?’ Fon asked. Jamie didn’t answer. He righted one of the chairs and put Patrick gently down in it before fetching the shotgun from near the door and placing it in Fon’s hands.

  He hurried upstairs and Fon could hear him searching the rooms.

  When he returned he shook his head. ‘Nothing’s been touched up there,’ he said. ‘Now, Fon, I want you to lock the door after me, and if anyone other than me tries to come in, shoot, do you hear?’

  Fon nodded, her mouth dry. ‘Where are you going, Jamie? What’s happening here?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said grimly. ‘But I mean to find out.’

  When she was alone, Fon looked around her at the mess, and a terrible anger filled her. She placed the gun at the ready and began to clean up her kitchen.

  Fon moved swiftly, fetching the broom from the lean-to. She had no intention of sitting still and whimpering. If anyone thought she could be frightened away from her home, then they could just forget it. Jamie was her life; if Jamie could act with courage, then so could she.

  She stood for a moment looking down at the broken pieces of a pretty flowerpot strewn, with the broken plants, over the grey flagged floor; and then, with a sigh, she set to work.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ‘This is Mrs Harries.’ Mrs Bell spoke officiously. ‘She’s been sent up from Swansea to help you get things organized up here.’

  Will felt as though the breath had been knocked out of him. He spun round and looked at Eline, drinking in the unexpected sight of her. He almost stepped forward to take her in his arms and then stopped in his tracks, realizing that Mrs Bell was watching him suspiciously.

  ‘Good morning.’ Will’s pulse slowed as he saw that Eline was acting as though they had never met.

  ‘Glad to see you took the job, after all,’ he said, forcing himself to speak calmly. ‘What made you change your mind? Was it something Hari Grenfell said to you?’

  ‘I had my reasons.’ Eline did not meet his eye. ‘Very private reasons.’

  ‘I see.’ William felt that he was rebuffed and knew that was just what Eline had intended. ‘Well, I’m sure you’ll soon get the hang of things here.’ He looked at her, trying to make her meet his gaze, but she would not.

  ‘I understand I will be dressing just one of the windows?’ she said, directing her question to Mrs Bell.

  ‘Aye. Not that I approve, you understand.’ Mrs Bell spoke almost truculently. ‘New-fangled windows are not my cup of tea. Give me plain displays every time. Folk don’t want to see a pantomime when they come to my emporium; all they want is to buy clothes and such.’

  Eline smiled warmly, her gaze sweeping over Mrs Bell’s no-nonsense dress and plain accessories, and Will could almost see her mind working as she planned a wardrobe that would do justice to the elegant posture of the older woman.

  ‘I’m sure you are very experienced and knowledgeable,’ Eline said quietly, and the icy expression on Mrs Bell’s face thawed visibly.

  ‘Perhaps you will give me the benefit of your advice once I begin work,’ Eline added.

  Will concealed a smile. Mrs Bell’s gratification was apparent in the upward tilt of her mouth. He felt sure that, had she any feathers, she would have fluffed them out with pride by now.

  ‘Well, perhaps I could spare you a little time,’ she said grudgingly.

  Eline’s smile would have melted an iceberg. ‘Thank you so much,’ she said, drawing off her gloves. ‘Perhaps I’d better start looking round for some materials right away.’

  Mrs Bell took her long skirt between stout fingers and moved to the stairs. ‘You just wait here until I have a word with my staff, and then I’ll come and help you,’ she said, and her tone could almost be described as amiable.

  ‘You certainly have a way with people,’ William said, breaking the awkward silence that had fallen after Mrs Bell had departed.

  ‘I feel that being tactful helps.’ Eline was on the defensive, and Will knew that she hadn’t changed in her feelings for him at all. She was still angry and bitter at his betrayal, and could he honestly blame her? Still, they must work together now, and at least she could offer the olive branch during business hours.

  ‘Unforgiving sort, aren’t you?’ he said, with sudden anger, and Eline’s fine eyebrows arched in assumed surprise.

  ‘Have I anything to forgive Mrs Bell for, then?’ she said, with some sarcasm.

  Will caught her arm. He could see the gentle swell of her breasts at the vee of her neckline, and he longed to touch her intimately, to make her yield to the passion that burned in him. He had never possessed Eline; he felt that no-one had possessed her, not really reached her inner core – not even the husband she had been married to since she was little more than a child.

  He drew her close and pressed his mouth fiercely on hers, trying to force a response from her. She didn’t protest, she didn’t push him away, she simply remained passive and unresponsive.

  He released her angrily. ‘You are a cold woman, Eline,’ he said. ‘I think you should have become a nun, remained chaste; you weren’t cut out for anything as human as passion.’

  She didn’t rise to the bait. She simply moved away and picked up a lady’s boot from one of the the shelves. After a moment, she looked over her shoulder at him, and Will thought he saw a flicker of something like sadness in her eyes.

  ‘Can’t we make a new start?’ Will said humbly. ‘I don’t want us to quarrel, it achieves nothing.’

  ‘You’re right,’ Eline said. ‘We should try to develop a reasonable working relationship at least. Life would be much easier then.’

  ‘That’s a start anyway, now,’ Will said, feeling exultant. It was just the start he’d been hoping for, but he kept his voice deliberately businesslike.

  ‘Let’s see what we shall put in the window, shall we?’ he said, and his gaze li
ngered on her mouth as he suppressed the desire to kiss her.

  Will scarcely saw Eline for the rest of the day. She worked hard, he had to admit that; she asked no quarter but carried stock upstairs on her own and left him free to serve the few customers who did venture down to the basement.

  Later, they sat together in the modest tearooms at the top of the emporium building and talked in a desultory manner about work. But at least, Will thought, they were no longer at each other’s throats. It was possible, he reasoned, that, given time, Eline’s hostility would fade.

  ‘Where are you going to stay in Cardiff?’ Will ventured a personal question, and Eline looked up at him coolly.

  ‘I have a room in an hotel,’ she said, ‘just for a few days, then I will be returning to Swansea.’

  Will felt disappointment grip him. ‘You wouldn’t like to live in Cardiff, then?’ he asked, and she shook her head.

  ‘Oh, no.’ She fiddled with a bracelet on her arm. ‘I’ll just be coming up for a few days each week to see how things are going, but I’ll be based at home.’

  She met his gaze squarely for the first time. ‘I’m going to begin to make a new life for myself. I think it’s high time I cut away from the past and started again.’

  ‘I see.’ Will felt as though the bottom had dropped out of his world.

  ‘You know that I want to design and make shoes for children and adults who have difficulty walking properly. Well, at last I’m putting that wish into practice.’

  ‘And Calvin Temple, is he helping you?’ Will regretted the words as soon as they were spoken, for the shutters came down on Eline’s face and she retreated into her shell once more.

  She picked up her bag. ‘I’d better be getting back to work,’ she said, not looking at him. ‘There’s plenty to do if I’m to modernize the display area; it doesn’t look as if anything’s been changed for years.’

  As Eline’s window display began to take shape, Will found that the number of customers patronizing his basement area of the emporium grew steadily. Some came to buy, but most came out of open curiosity and appeared disappointed with the dark and dour shelves and old-fashioned fixtures.