Honey's Farm

by Iris Gower

  ‘All depends on what you mean by harm,’ Price said easily, still smiling; and the smile brought goosebumps out on Mike’s skin.

  ‘I’ll just have a bit of fun with them,’ he said. ‘I quite fancy that farm girl with her lovely skin and her soft little mouth.’ He stretched his legs beneath the table. ‘I think I’ll have her for dinner, and then Miss high and mighty Arian Smale for afters.’

  Mike’s mouth was suddenly dry. Arian, his brother’s girl – a right little minx, if ever there was one, but could he stand by and watch one of his kinsfolk being hurt by the sadistic man sitting before him?

  He glanced at Price; he was drinking his beer and hadn’t noticed Mike’s sudden silence. Mike realized with a prickling of fear that he would have to play along with the man for the moment at least; he knew little about Price Davies except that they had got drunk together one night in the public bar and had slept together like friends on the bed in Mike’s shabby lodgings.

  Foolishly Mike had told Price of the plan to take Fon O’Conner and hold her till her husband paid up. Now Price had a game of his own to play, and Mike wasn’t sure just where it would lead.

  ‘Come on.’ Price rose as if suddenly restless. ‘The bitch must be home by now. Let’s go and show her what we’re made of, shall we?’

  He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and smiled. ‘She’ll be pleased to see me, I’m sure; and, as for me, I can’t wait to see her.’ He moved to the door. ‘Arian Smale,’ he said softly, ‘you are about to get everything you’ve been asking for.’

  Standing behind him, Mike shuddered. There was something within this man that frightened him, something beyond evil. It was as if Mike had set in motion a series of events over which he now had very little, if any, control. For a moment, Mike was tempted to run, to put as much distance between Price Davies and himself as he could. Then his big shoulders slumped. It was no good running from such a man; he would just have to go along with whatever it was Price Davies had planned.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  ‘Don’t you think it’s a little chilly to take the baby out today, Eline?’ Calvin’s voice was solicitous, and Eline bit her lip on the irritable answer that she’d been about to make.

  ‘He’s well wrapped up.’ She hoped her voice sounded reasonable; she needed to get outdoors, away from Calvin’s almost constant presence. Ever since the baby had been born, Calvin had been at her side, pampering her, indulging her and crooning over the baby.

  He meant well, Eline knew that better than anyone; but Calvin’s pride in the boy he believed was his son twisted like a knife in her heart. His joy shone in his face, and Eline knew in her heart that one day she had to destroy that joy with just a few words of truth.

  ‘In any case,’ Calvin continued, ‘the baby has a nurse to take him out. It’s not seemly for you to be carrying the boy in the shawl, Welsh-fashion, in the manner of the poor people.’

  ‘It may not be seemly, but it’s what I want to do,’ Eline said, ‘and since when have you been such a snob?’ This time her voice was edged with an impatience she couldn’t conceal. ‘I came from the “poor people”, if you remember.’

  ‘All right!’ Calvin held up his hands in a gesture of mock defeat, his good humour unshaken. ‘I realize my lady wife is not like other women but is an independent soul with a string of successes to her credit.’

  He came to her and held her in his arms, kissing her neck and then her lips. ‘I love you very much, my darling,’ he said. ‘Never forget that.’

  As if she could; his attentions were cloying at times, and, although Eline knew she was being unreasonable, she could not help resenting the constant pressure on her to play the role of a good and loving wife.

  It was with a sense of relief that she said goodbye to Calvin as he stood in the doorway of the grand house. He watched as she walked down the drive, and, turning, she gave him a perfunctory wave.

  She breathed deeply and looked around her, glad to be out of the house and in the real world again. Anything was preferable at this moment to remaining in the house; any diversion that served to take her mind away from Calvin and his devotion was more than welcome.

  The trees were bare now, the earth hard with frost, but soon the spring flowers would burst through the soil, thrusting shoots upwards, heralding a new beginning. But not for her. Eline sighed heavily, wondering how long she could keep up the pretence of being a good and loyal wife.

  She paused and drew back the checked woollen shawl, staring down at the baby’s sleeping face. He was more like Will than ever, with a slight frown on his tiny forehead as he struggled against the sudden intrusion of the light into his comfortable sleep.

  Already, a lick of dark hair hung forward over his brow, giving him an earnest, scholarly appearance. A smile softened Eline’s features. How she loved her son; she could, she vowed, endure anything so long as her child grew up in a secure background. And what, she reasoned, could be more secure than being heir to Calvin Temple?

  Doubts assailed her on the other hand. Could she survive the long years ahead, years of Calvin’s cloying attention, years of living a lie? For the fact that her son was not Calvin’s child was becoming more and more apparent to her as every day passed.

  The streets of the town were crowded, and Eline mingled with the crowds, glad to be anonymous, unnoticed. She would call at the workshop, she decided, see how Arian was coping.

  Eline allowed herself a small sense of triumph; she would help Arian Smale the way she herself had been helped by Hari Grenfell. Arian had the wits and the courage to rise high in the leather business; she learned quickly and had a forcefulness that commanded attention.

  A ragged boy edged past Eline without even looking at her, a strange feeling indeed; she realized that, with the Welsh shawl wrapped around her, she looked just like any other working woman of the town.

  When she reached the workshop, she pushed open the door and heard the hum of machinery from the back room with a feeling of satisfaction. The smell of leather permeated the air, and on the bench lay a half-finished remedial boot, one she herself had designed.

  Price Davies came forward and smiled his charming smile, drawing a stool from under the bench for Eline to sit on.

  ‘Where’s Arian?’ Eline asked, aware of the quiet that had descended on the workers. There was a feeling of tension in the air, as though something untoward had happened.

  ‘I’m sorry, Lady Temple,’ he said, with just the right touch of deference. ‘No-one seems to know; she hasn’t been in to work for several days.’

  Eline frowned. ‘Why didn’t someone inform me of the situation?’ she asked, and she saw Price hesitate before answering. Eline was puzzled. She’d believed Arian was going to get rid of the man, and yet here was Price Davies running the place.

  ‘Well, no-one felt it was right to tell tales out of school, if you’ll pardon me saying. We just thought she needed a few days off and we were sort of covering her tracks, so to speak.’

  Eline considered his words in silence, biting her lip. Workers stuck together against bosses, that much was true; she hadn’t forgotten that, had she?

  ‘I suggest you send someone round to her lodgings,’

  Eline said more easily, ‘find out if Arian is sick.’

  ‘I’ll go myself,’ Price offered. ‘It’s not far; it will only take me a few minutes.’

  ‘On second thoughts,’ Eline said, ‘I’ll come with you.’ She felt uneasy; it wasn’t like Arian to abdicate her responsibilities, not without very good reason.

  In the street, Price measured his step with hers. He was deferential and charming, and Eline wondered why she couldn’t quite trust the man.

  ‘Did Arian seem all right last time you saw her?’ Eline asked, frowning, and she saw Price smile.

  ‘She was in fine fettle,’ he said. ‘Talking about some young man who seemed to have taken her fancy, she was.’

  Strange, Arian didn’t seem the sort of girl to let her heart rule her
head, Eline thought; but then, who was to tell what a woman in love might do? Look at her own tangled life.

  The landlady at the boarding house sniffed as Eline enquired about Arian’s health and invited her into the parlour with due deference.

  ‘Gone, she is, without a word,’ Mrs Maitland said when Eline was seated in one of the uncomfortable horse-hair chairs. ‘Wouldn’t have thought it, mind, of a young lady like that.’

  ‘What wouldn’t you have thought?’ Eline asked, a little impatiently.

  ‘Well, it’s not my place to gossip about my ladies, but Miss Smale had a man in here, against all the rules. Saw her from the window, I did, leaving, leaning all over this . . . this person. If you ask me, both of them were worse for liquor.’

  ‘I don’t believe it!’ Eline exclaimed.

  Mrs Maitland sniffed again. ‘I’m not in the habit of telling falsehoods, my lady, with all due respects,’ she said.

  ‘No, I’m sure,’ Eline replied. ‘It’s just that it seems so out of character for Arian to behave in that way.’

  ‘I know,’ Mrs Maitland said, ‘but then who’s to tell what can happen when a man charms his way into a woman’s heart?’

  ‘Did you get a look at this man?’ Eline asked, and she sensed Price moving impatiently beside her. She looked up at him, but his expression was bland.

  Mrs Maitland shook her head. ‘Only the back side of him; rough chap, big, with shoulders like a barn door. Looked too old for a young lady like Miss Smale, I’d have thought.’

  Eline felt defeated. There was not a great deal she could do at the moment; it was clear the landlady knew very little about Arian’s disappareance.

  ‘I shall see that the room is paid for,’ Eline said, ‘and please keep it free for Miss Smale. I’m sure there’s some perfectly good reason for all this mystery.’

  Mrs Maitland’s expression suggested that she knew the reason and didn’t much like it; but she inclined her head in agreement. Lady Temple was a force to be reckoned with.

  ‘What shall we do now?’ Price asked when he and Eline were in the street once more.

  She shrugged. ‘I don’t know, I’m completely at a loss.’

  ‘Perhaps she has run off. What about that fellow she had who went off to London to be a doctor; might he have sent for her?’

  Eline shook her head. She doubted it, but it was a possibility; Arian was young and impressionable – but not irresponsible, her mind insisted.

  ‘What about the workshop?’ Price asked, with seeming innocence. ‘Would you like me to take charge, just until Arian comes back?’

  It was the most sensible solution. Price was probably the most experienced man in her employ, Eline thought; in any case, his fellow workers seemed inclined to follow his lead.

  ‘That’s very kind of you, Price,’ Eline said, feeling somehow that she had been manipulated. ‘You will have a rise, of course; and, who knows, I may be in a position to make the opening a permanent one some time in the future.’

  She left Price at the workshop and began the trek back home, feeling suddenly tired. She had walked much too far, and the baby was heavy now in her arms.

  She made her way into Victoria Park and sat down on the bench, staring out at the pond, where the ducks dipped and glided on the still surface, searching for food. It was peaceful here, and her chaotic thoughts began to sort themselves out a little.

  There must be some rational explanation for Arian’s disappearance. And yet Arian did have a wild streak that might cause her to behave irrationally.

  But doubts persisted. Eline couldn’t believe Arian would have left the job without any notice; she was proud of her work and had always been anxious to get on in the world of shoemaking.

  A shadow fell across her face and, looking up, Eline drew a sharp breath. ‘Will!’ She spoke the name softly, as though not quite believing he was really standing there before her.

  ‘Eline.’ His tone was polite, nothing more, and there was a pain in his eyes that he couldn’t quite conceal.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he asked stiffly. ‘I mean, it’s strange to see you alone like this, with the baby wrapped in a Welsh shawl. Where’s your fine carriage? Why are you sitting here in the park – is anything wrong?’

  ‘I’m all right,’ Eline said quickly, hugging the baby to her, afraid that Will might see her son’s face.

  Will sat down beside her, abruptly. After a moment, he leant over the child in her arms, his hand gently pulling the shawl aside.

  There was a long moment of silence and then Will lifted his head. His eyes met Eline’s, and she knew in that instant that Will had realized the truth.

  ‘He’s mine,’ he said flatly, his tone brooking no argument. ‘This child is mine; do you deny it, Eline?’

  She looked directly into his eyes and knew she could not lie to him – not about this. ‘I don’t deny it, Will. How can I, when he looks the very image of you?’

  Will rubbed his hand over his face. Slowly, a smile began to light his eyes and reached his mouth. ‘Let me hold him, please, Eline,’ he said softly. ‘It’s not much to ask, is it?’

  She sighed and, after a moment’s hesitation, handed him the baby, their son. She drew a ragged breath at the joy in Will’s face, and her smile was brilliant as she looked at the two beings she loved most in all the world.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Will asked, and then he looked away from her. ‘Of course, I know why. Temple could give the boy everything, when I could offer him nothing.’

  ‘It isn’t that, Will,’ Eline said. ‘But Calvin was so joyous, so proud, I couldn’t find the words to tell him the truth.’

  ‘You didn’t want to hurt him?’ Will asked. ‘And yet you would hurt me; how could you think like that?’ His voice was edged with anger. ‘I could have borne it if you’d wanted our son to have every advantage in life, but I don’t understand how you could keep silent out of pity for Temple – or was it love, Eline? Have you fallen in love with him after all?’

  She shook her head in dumb misery. ‘Don’t, Will. What was I to do?’

  He stared down at the boy in his arms, and there was a longing in his eyes that tore at Eline’s heart. ‘He’s a fine child.’ Will’s voice was tender. ‘A son any man could be proud of.’

  He looked up at Eline then. ‘It seems I’m destined not to have any sons I can call my own, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Will, Will! Don’t torture the both of us,’ Eline said. ‘It can do no good.’

  ‘I know, but I ache for you,’ Will said. ‘You occupy my thoughts every minute of every day. I can’t seem to function without you; I have no ambition any more.’

  Eline began to cry. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she tried to dash them away, impatient with any sign of weakness in herself. She needed to be strong, for her son’s sake if for no-one else’s.

  Will put his arm around her and drew her head down on to his shoulder. ‘I’ll savour this moment,’ he said softly, ‘the moment when I held my two loved ones in my arms. It will never come again, because I’ll go away, leave you in peace and leave my son to be brought up with every privilege he could wish for.’

  Neither Eline nor Will saw the figure of Calvin Temple standing a short distance away, watching the small tableau, his face filled with sadness. After a moment, he turned and walked away, and there was purpose in the way he strode out of the park and climbed into his waiting carriage.

  Fon’s arms ached. The ropes bit cruelly into her wrists as she struggled yet again to free herself. Across the room Arian was slumped in her chair, her face red from the slap administered by Price Davies before he’d left them.

  ‘It’s no use struggling,’ Arian said slowly. ‘We have no strength to resist these awful men, so we will just have to outwit them.’

  Fon looked at her hopefully. ‘You’ve got a plan?’ she said, her voice cracking with fatigue and fear.

  ‘I’m going to try to lure Price into the bedroom,’ Arian said, in a matter-of-fact tone
, as if she was simply talking about going to the shops to buy some groceries. ‘While I’m there, talk Mike into letting you go free; he’s frightened by what Price intends to do, I can see it in his face.’

  ‘But you can’t go into the bedroom with that animal,’ Fon protested. ‘You know what he’ll do to you.’

  ‘I know.’ Arian shrugged. ‘But what’s the alternative?’ She pursed her lips as the silence lengthened.

  ‘He’ll rape the both of us, whatever we do,’ Arian said at last, ‘so in my own case I’ll only be getting the ordeal over more quickly.’

  She paused for a moment and chewed her lip. ‘I think there’s a strong possibility he might do more than harm us . . .’ Her words trailed away.

  ‘You mean he might . . . might kill us?’ Fon felt a wash of fear as she looked into Arian’s eyes. She felt in her bones that Arian was right; Price Davies intended at the very least to violate them both. It had been quite clear what Davies had in mind when he thrust his hand into Fon’s bodice. As for letting them go after that, it was doubtful he would compromise himself by letting them complain about his brutality.

  ‘I think you’re right,’ she said, remembering how cruelly Price had slapped Arian’s face before tying her into a chair. ‘But what makes you think Mike the Spud will listen to me?’

  ‘There’s just a chance he might help,’ Arian said. ‘You must convince him that Price wants us dead, and I know that’s not what Mike wants. He’s my uncle, remember, and for all his badness I think he’d stop short of murdering me.’

  ‘I don’t like to think of you sacrificing yourself to that terrible man,’ Fon said quietly. ‘Do you think that when you get him alone you could outwit him?’

  ‘I could try,’ Arian said ruefully, ‘but when I tried that before, he was too quick for me.’

  She smiled reassuringly. ‘Don’t worry, it won’t be the first time I’ve lain with a man; and, though I detest Price Davies, I would prefer what he would do to me to being dead.’