by Iris Gower
Hari was waiting for him now, seated in her elegant drawing-room, a tea tray ready before her. As always, she’d known what he was thinking, known he would come on the first train into Swansea.
‘What’s wrong, Hari?’ he asked anxiously, searching her face.
She smiled reassuringly, gesturing for him to sit down. ‘I’m going to be an interfering old busybody,’ she said. ‘Gwyneth Parks is saying she’s expecting your child. Is it true, Will?’
He was taken aback by her abrupt question, and for a moment was at a loss how to answer.
‘I realize this has nothing to do with me,’ she continued in a rush. ‘But it is something to do with Eline Harries. She’s so unhappy, Will, so in love with you, that she’s cut to the quick by all this.’
Hari sighed. ‘She intends to marry Calvin Temple on the rebound, and I thought you should be here to sort things out.’
Will felt shock hit at the pit of his stomach like a pain. He should have expected it, of course. Calvin had never concealed the fact that he wanted Eline. And Gwyneth, having a baby? It just couldn’t be true, could it?
‘This is the first I’ve heard of any baby,’ he said. ‘Surely Gwyneth would have come to me, told me about this . . . this condition she’s supposed to be in.’
‘How could she?’ Hari said. ‘She was probably going to see you on your last visit to Swansea but, if you remember, it wasn’t a very prolonged one.’
She was right. Unless Gwyneth travelled up to Cardiff, what chance would she have of talking to him? The full import of Hari’s words hit him then.
‘Christ!’ he said. ‘Gwyneth pregnant, and Eline intending to get married to Calvin Temple! What’s happening to my world, Hari?’
‘Is it true, then, Will?’ Hari urged gently. ‘Could this girl be having your child?’
He felt sick and defeated. He knew that Gwyneth loved him to a point past understanding. She would never have given herself to another man.
‘It must be true,’ he said. ‘If she is with child, then I’m the father, no doubt about that.’
He felt plagued with a mixture of emotions. He knew he must see Gwyneth Park, sort this mess out, learn the truth from her own lips; and yet he wanted to rush to Eline, beg her not to marry another man. He sighed heavily.
‘Come on, now, love,’ Hari said softly. ‘It can’t be all that bad, can it?’
When he didn’t reply, she continued speaking. ‘Even if Gwyneth is expecting, you could support the child. You needn’t throw away your life by marrying a woman you obviously don’t love.’
But she was wrong, and Will knew it in his bones. He could not simply pay for his mistake with blood money, leave Gwyneth to the scorn of her neighbours, and allow his child – his child – to be brought up with the stigma of illegitimacy hanging over its head.
‘What a sorry mess!’ he said, rubbing his eyes. ‘What a stupid fool I’ve been, taking my pleasure and not thinking of the consequences.’
Hari smiled. ‘That’s the nature of man, my love. No good blaming yourself; you must just try to make the best of the situation now.’
He met her eyes. ‘I’ll have to marry Gwyneth, if only for the sake of the child; you above all people will appreciate that, Hari.’
‘Look, don’t go making rash decisions,’ Hari said. ‘Find out for sure if Gwyneth is with child before you do anything hasty. She could be . . . be mistaken about all this, you know.’
Will felt a momentary lifting of his spirits. Hari was right; it could all be a false alarm; these things did happen. But, then, Gwyneth was from a large family of women; they would have advised her to see a midwife, to make sure of her facts.
He rose to his feet. ‘I’ll go down to Oystermouth now,’ he said. ‘I’ll talk to Gwyneth; it’s the only thing I can do.’
‘And Eline?’ Hari asked quietly. ‘What about her? She loves you, Will; she knows she’s made a mistake with this man Calvin Temple, and I think she’ll call off the marriage if you go to her.’
He sighed heavily. ‘I would like nothing more than to go to her, to beg her to forget all that’s gone and to take a chance on marrying me. I have regular employment now, and though I’ll never be wealthy, at least I could support her, give her a home, love her; but I’ve made too many mistakes, it’s far too late for that.’
Hari rose and hugged him, and for a moment Will buried his face in her hair, feeling the warmth and love that came from her, the love that required nothing in return.
On the train to Oystermouth, Will stared back across the bay towards Swansea. The twin hills of Kilvey and Townhill rose protectively around the huddled town, and edging the shoreline the sea washed inwards in a gentle curve.
He sighed heavily; such a lot had happened in the last few months. His business had failed, he’d taken Hari’s offer of a job in Cardiff, he had made Gwyneth Parks pregnant, and he had given up the only woman he could ever love. For he had given her up; once he took to Gwyneth Parks’ bed, he had forfeited all rights to Eline’s love and trust.
Will stared out fixedly, longing to cry out his tears of frustration and despair; but men didn’t cry, did they?
Oystermouth bay was filled with billowing sails; the oyster boats were going out to dredge for the harvest of oysters that was the lifeblood of the village. It was the strange, temperamental waters of the bay that had caused Joe Harries’s accident and ultimately his death. Why hadn’t he stepped in then, Will thought in anger, claimed Eline as his own?
He had wanted to offer her the best of everything, a thriving businessman for a husband, a life of ease and luxury; instead he’d become a failure, and too proud to ask her to share that failure. Now it was too late; he had obligations elsewhere, and there was no-one to blame except himself.
He alighted from the train, feeling as though he had wept a thousand tears. The truth was that his eyes only burned from the dust thrown up by the horses’ hooves from the well-worn track to Oystermouth. Or at least that’s what he told himself.
He paused outside the gallery, and a feeling of nostalgia filled him as he remembered being inside the light, airy rooms with Eline, watching her plan her future.
He paused, seeing that the window was filled with an enormous canvas, a rich painting of the bay with a sailing ship unloading sheep on to the still wet sand. It was an effective and moving picture, and, from the price ticket above it, it would need a very wealthy client to buy it.
The knowledge that Eline was a success filled him with a sense of renewed despair. Everything she touched went well; her designs for shoes were much sought after, and now her gallery was flourishing, with the help of Calvin Temple of course.
No doubt Eline would be better off married to such a man. He was rich, influential; and Eline deserved the best. Slowly, Will turned away.
‘William!’ The voice reached out to him softly, like a hand touching his shoulder. ‘Will, please don’t walk away.’
He turned to face Eline. She was looking at him longingly, and if ever he’d doubted her love he couldn’t doubt it now.
‘Come inside,’ she said. ‘I’m here alone; Calvin’s in London on business. I was just closing up.’
He went with her and watched as she shut the door and firmly locked it. She turned then and held out her arms and he went into them readily, holding her close.
‘You know?’ he whispered, and she touched his cheek with her hand. ‘You know what a stupid, thoughtless fool I’ve been, throwing away my chance of happiness with you?’
‘I know,’ she replied. ‘Hush now, don’t say another word. Just kiss me, Will! It will be our farewell to each other.’
He touched her mouth with his, losing himself in the sweetness of holding her, feeling her body pliant against him, relishing the soft swell of her breasts against his chest. His blood seemed to turn to water. He could die at this moment, here in her arms, and be happy.
After a long moment, Eline moved away from him. ‘I love you, Will,’ she said. ‘I suppose I’ll a
lways love you, but I know you well enough to understand that you have to go to Gwyneth Parks. She needs you now.’
His hands dropped to his sides. ‘Will you marry Calvin Temple?’ he asked, knowing he had no right to question her, but driven to it by the jealousy that tore at him.
She shook her head. ‘I don’t know, Will. I don’t love him, but he understands that.’
She moved away, as though putting as much distance between them as she could. ‘I suppose this is my last chance to live a normal life, to have a family – oh, I don’t know!’
The words were anguished, and Will felt a great burden of guilt. It was his fault, all his fault. He had given in to the weakness of the flesh; his need of a woman had driven him into a corner, and here he was now, faced with the irrevocable results.
‘I can’t tell you how sorry I am,’ Will said. ‘Damn! The words sound so hollow, so meaningless, and they don’t begin to express what I really feel.’
‘I know,’ Eline said, ‘and I understand, Will. We all make mistakes. I made my biggest mistake when I married Joe Harries just because I was afraid of life, afraid to be alone.’
‘Then don’t make the same mistake again,’ Will said softly. ‘I’ve no right to even think that sort of thought, but I can’t help it, Eline.’
‘Go now,’ she said turning away from him and slowly, Will obeyed knowing there was nothing else he could do.
‘Will!’ The name was torn from Eline’s lips. ‘Hold me just once more, please.’
They clung together like children drowning in a remorseless sea, and Will longed to fling her down and possess her, put his mark on her, make her truly his. It was ironic that he had never possessed the woman he loved more than life itself.
He released her suddenly and made for the door, afraid to stay any longer. As he hurried out into the street, he could hear the soft sound of Eline weeping.
He walked away, up into the hills of Mumbles, trying to regain his composure. He stared down at the foaming waters rushing in against the cliffs and wondered what it would be like to simply fall into the depths of the sea. It would be a blessed release, and yet he knew in his heart it was a coward’s way out, and one he could not take.
It was perhaps an hour later that he returned to Oystermouth, calmer now, his chaotic thoughts tamed into some semblance of order.
Gwyneth looked pale and sick when she opened the door to him. She stared at him for a long moment before stepping back to allow him to enter.
Nina Parks took one look at his face and then rose to her feet. ‘I’ll be in the parlour if you want me, love,’ she said to her daughter, and the look she gave Will dared him to hurt her daughter even more than he already had.
‘How are you?’ he said softly, pityingly.
Gwyneth lifted her head. ‘Duw, I’m all right. Girls like me always get by, mind,’ she said, with a touching air of defiance.
‘Gwyneth,’ Will said more firmly. ‘I want you to marry me.’
The words hung in the air between them, and Gwyneth stared at him, her eyes huge in her pale face.
‘You don’t mean that, do you?’ she said. ‘You are just doing what you think is right; you don’t love me.’
He felt pity tear at his heart, and, on an impulse, he took her into his arms, folding her against him, smelling the salt of the sea in her hair.
‘I think a great deal of you, Gwyneth,’ he said, ‘otherwise I wouldn’t have taken you to my bed, would I?’
She sighed heavily. ‘I want to believe you, but I know you love Eline Harries. You do love her, don’t you, Will?’
‘It’s possible to feel . . . affection for more than one woman.’ Will avoided a direct answer. ‘I certainly enjoyed making love to you, Gwyneth, surely you must realize that?’
‘You’ve never made love to her?’ Gwyneth asked, with something like disbelief in her voice.
‘Never,’ Will said emphatically. ‘Come on, Gwyneth, you know there’s no other way. We will get married, have our baby, and live happily ever after.’
She relaxed against him then. ‘I’m too tired to argue with you. I want you so much that I’ll have you on any terms, and if I have to be second choice because Eline is marrying that Calvin Temple, then I’m content with that.’
‘I would want to marry you anyway, Gwyneth,’ Will said gravely, ‘even if Eline never married the man. I know you need me, and our child needs me. There’s no question of you being second choice.’
Nina Parks came back into the room. ‘Stop arguing with the man and just be glad he’s come to you when you need him.’
She pushed the kettle on to the flames of the fire and then turned to Will. ‘I’ll say this, you are a real gent, and what’s more you got guts.’ She folded her arms across her full breasts. ‘Some would have run a mile where there’s a babbie concerned, and I know what I’m talking about.
‘Now, let’s sit down and have a cup of tea and talk about practical things, shall we?’ She smiled and rested her hand on Gwyneth’s shoulder.
‘There’s a lot to arrange for a wedding, mind, and not much time to do it in if your belly isn’t going to go before you down the aisle of the church.’
They were married quietly three weeks later. The November rain had set in, and a mist hung over the parish of Oystermouth, but Gwyneth Parks was radiant as she walked up the aisle of All Saints, her head held high.
All around her were her family, proud and happy to see Gwyneth marrying William Davies, who when all was said and done was quite a toff.
Sal hung on to the arm of her husband, her round face smiling with pleasure, glancing down at her little Fon with Jamie big and handsome at her side.
Nina was dressed in her Sunday best, with a fine new hat perched on her greying hair, and she nodded encouragement to Gwyneth as she swept up the aisle on the arm of her new husband.
No-one noticed Eline Harries standing on the perimeter of the sightseers – no-one, that is, except the groom, who for an unguarded moment looked as though he was not celebrating his wedding but going to his own funeral.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
‘I know you are going to be the happiest girl alive.’ Fon embraced her sister warmly. Around them in the small back room of the Smith’s Arms, the sound of voices rose and fell. Glasses were being emptied; the small celebration lunch was almost finished.
The bride looked tearful, and yet she was smiling. It was clear that Gwyneth was going through a mingling of emotions, which was exactly the way Fon herself had felt on the day she was married.
She released Gwyneth and glanced up lovingly at Jamie, who was talking to Will Davies, man to man, without the deferential air people usually adopted with Will. But, then, she knew her husband’s views on life very well, any man might be as good but no man was better than Jamie O’Conner.
‘I can’t help feeling I’m second best,’ Gwyneth said softly, her eyes brimming with tears.
‘I know what you are going through,’ Fon said quickly. ‘Wasn’t I haunted by the ghost of Jamie’s first wife?’ She squeezed her sister’s arm. ‘But love comes, when you lie with a man every night you become . . . close, so close.’
Gwyneth smiled suddenly. ‘Duw, who’d have thought my little sister would have been giving me advice about men?’
Fon’s colour rose. ‘Don’t tease, Gwyneth, girl; I’m an old married woman, and don’t you forget it.’
Will had come to stand behind Gwyneth’s shoulder. ‘I think it’s time to go, Gwyneth.’ He spoke quietly; there was no light in his eye, no upturning of his mouth. He looked like a man who was doing his duty and nothing more, and Fon felt a tingling of apprehension. She knew in that moment, she felt it in her bones, that no good was going to come from the union of Will Davies and her sister Gwyneth.
She forced herself to smile brightly as she hugged Gwyneth close. ‘Take care of her,’ she said, looking over her sister’s shoulder into the face of Gwyneth’s new husband.
‘I will, don’t you worry,’ he sa
id, and Fon believed him. Will Davies was an honourable man. He would keep his word, whatever happened. And what could happen? Surely her feelings of gloom were misplaced?
As Jamie drove Fon homeward, up the hill from Swansea towards the farm, she leaned against his shoulder, grateful for his nearness. It was only now and again, when he seemed preoccupied with the past, that she doubted his love. His desire for her was evident; he made love to her with joy and vigour, but he rarely put tongue to his feelings, he wasn’t that sort of man.
‘Well, I think I’ve got a buyer for that piece of land, Fon,’ he said, looking down at her. ‘I was hasty spending out for it in the first place.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘The time wasn’t right for expanding; you were wise enough to know that, colleen, and I wouldn’t listen.’
‘But you will make a handsome profit now, when we most need it, so it turned out right for us after all,’ Fon said reassuringly.
‘Aye,’ Jamie said, ‘and I won’t have to sell the Black Devil; that’s one consolation.’
‘Who is buying the land?’ Fon asked, moving even closer to Jamie, feeling the heat coming from his skin with a sense of pleasurable belonging.
‘It’s a consortium,’ Jamie said. ‘It seems that the project is so big that several of the Swansea businessmen have got together over the deal, which makes sense.’
Fon sighed. ‘What if there’s a roadway running past the farm; will that do us any harm?’
‘I can’t see it doing anything but good,’ Jamie replied. ‘We will be able to shift the crop by road so much more easily, not to mention the bringing in of new machinery.’
‘So we’ll be all right now, will we?’ She looked up at her husband and saw the smile curving his mouth. On an impulse, she pulled his head down to hers and kissed him.
‘Hey, that’s no way for an old married woman to behave! Sure it’s a brazen hussy I’ve got for my wife.’
‘I’ll give you brazen hussy!’ Fon said. ‘Wait till I get you home, and then I’ll show you how brazen I really am.’