by Iris Gower
Eline, curious, had asked Joe about the Parks family once and had been given an unusually curt reply.
‘Nina’s husband was my best friend,’ he said. ‘He was drowned at sea and I decided to look after his widow and children, all right?’
Eline had warmed to Joe then, knowing him for a kind and good man, a man whose boots she wasn’t fit to clean. She shook off her thoughts of the Parks family, not wanting to dwell on the suspicions about Nina that wormed into her mind, and moved suddenly to take her coat from the hook behind the door. She might as well get out into the fresh air, there was nothing to keep her here, tied to the kitchen all day long.
The wind was dropping now, just as Skipper George had predicted and the sea was calmer, washing the shore gently like the tongue of a friendly dog. The skiffs were gone from view but Joe and all the other men would be safe now that the weather was being kind.
She walked slowly. The village was small and all too soon she would reach the shops. Perhaps it would be interesting to look into the new boot and shoe shop that Carys had made such a fuss about.
The shop was situated near the end of the village street, just before the road turned to wind uphill and just before the mullion-windowed village inn. It was a double-fronted shop, the windows swathed in dark silk, the shoes set daintily apart as if to step out into a dance and Eline recognized the influence of Mrs Grenfell in the elegant display.
‘Good morning.’ The voice was close to her ear and Eline turned abruptly to look up at the man, a stranger, daring to speak to her. His eyes were full of laughter, his mouth smiling beneath the fine moustache. There was a dimple in his chin and he smelled of fresh air and shaving soap.
‘I’m William Davies,’ he explained, ‘proprietor of the new shop. May I count on your custom some time in the future?’
Eline tried to look away but something in his eyes held her still. She felt as if she knew this man, as though they had been together in the long distant past. She wanted to rest her head on his shoulder, feel his arms around her holding her tenderly. But that was absurd, she had never seen him before.
‘I’m sorry if I startled you,’ he said easily. ‘Forgive me for staring, but I feel somehow as if we’ve met before.’
From the cultured tone of his voice, it was obvious that William Davies was a man of breeding and stature and the fine cut of his suit and the crisp white of his shirt confirmed her impression.
‘No, you didn’t startle me.’ Eline felt awkward in her everyday coat and her heavy working boots. She swallowed hard.
‘I’m sure I will buy my shoes at your shop, it looks very elegant. Reminds me of Mrs Grenfell’s fine place in Swansea.’
‘That’s very perceptive of you,’ William Davies said softly. ‘Mrs Grenfell and I are old friends, I did my training with her.’
It was no surprise; Eline had known this man was different, a toff who mingled with gentry, the likes of the Grenfells. She tried to draw her gaze away from him, but his eyes seemed to bore into her as if seeking out her every thought and emotion.
‘Not so perceptive,’ she said drily, ‘your shop is the talk of the village.’ She hesitated a moment and then turned away from the temptation of his eyes and his smile.
‘I’d better be going,’ Eline said softly, but she glanced back at William Davies, breathing in the scents of him and feeling that somehow their lives were bound together.
‘Would you like to come inside?’ He spoke quickly. ‘I would like to show you the interior of my shop, if you have time, that is.’
Almost against her will, Eline found herself following him inside, knowing with a sense of joy that he wanted to prolong the moment.
The shop was starkly furnished and the smell of leather permeated the long room. Curtains swathed the walls and William, seeing her glance, moved aside one of the drapes to reveal rows upon rows of boots and shoes in every style and shape.
‘Anything you could wish for is here,’ he said and his words, softly spoken, were imbued with hidden meaning. Eline sighed softly and moved to pick up a high laced-up boot from one of the stands. The leather was soft kid set against highly polished calf and the heel was elegant and well-shaped giving the boot flair.
‘You like that style?’ William asked. His hand, hovering over the boot, touched hers briefly and Eline felt a sudden shock of emotion running through her.
She couldn’t speak, she turned and moved quickly towards the door as though a thousand devils were at her heels. In the chill of the street, she stopped, feeling suddenly foolish, and, turning, lifted a hand in a gesture of farewell.
William Davies was staring after her, a thoughtful look on his face. He inclined his head and turned away, obviously he had more important things to do than ponder over Eline’s strange behaviour.
She returned home, struggling to find some sort of composure. Why was it, she asked herself, that contact with a stranger had set up such a vortex of emotions within her?
Eline paused at the edge of the sea, the tide on the ebb was never far out from the beach at Oystermouth unlike the wide sweeping bay of Swansea where the sand flats stretched for a mile at least.
Out there, on the restless seas was her husband, a good man, hard-working and a fine oyster fisherman. He had shown her nothing but kindness and for him, a certain sort of passion and yet here she was being unfaithful to him, if only in her mind.
‘Duw, it’s fine for some,’ the voice of Carys Morgan interrupted Eline’s thoughts. ‘Day-dreaming your life away like a lady of leisure is what you have the time for now, is it?’
‘I’ve just been to the shops.’ Eline was flustered as though Carys could look into her mind and see the wicked thoughts that were there.
‘Haven’t bought much.’ Carys folded her big arms. ‘Not going to make much dinner for your man with a handful of nothing, are you?’
Eline forced a smile. ‘I was curious,’ she thought it best to stick as closely to the truth as she dared, ‘I wanted to see this new boot and shoe shop you talked about.’
‘Aye and the handsome young owner, too, I suppose.’ Carys laughed. ‘Well, I don’t blame you and isn’t the man all I said he was?’
‘Oh, he’s handsome enough, I’ll agree, but it was a pair of fine kid boots that really took my fancy.’
‘Then you must be a fool or a liar!’ Carys said in amusement. ‘Duw, I’m an old biddy alongside you and yet I felt a stirring inside me when I looked at that wonderful man.’
Eline felt some of her tension drain away. If a sensible woman like Carys could feel drawn to William Davies then Eline couldn’t be at fault for simply agreeing with her.
‘There is something fine about him, I must admit,’ Eline said quietly. ‘But perhaps he cultivates a way with women just to be a good salesman.’
‘I doubt that,’ Carys said. ‘The man is just naturally charming without making any effort at all.’
Eline fidgeted uneasily. ‘You’re right, but I can’t stand here talking all day, I’ve done enough time wasting as it is.’
She moved away. ‘See you later, when the skiffs come in.’
She bought bread from the bakers, hardly noticing the hot, crusty smell of the fresh baked loaf and quickly retraced her steps towards home.
Once in her own kitchen, she hung up her coat and pushed the kettle on to the fire before sinking into a chair. In spite of her light-hearted conversation with Carys, Eline knew that her meeting with William Davies was momentous to her. It wasn’t just his charm or even his fine looks, there had been a rapport between them and Eline was sure he felt it too. The tension when his hand had brushed hers was clear in her memory as if it had just happened.
She allowed herself a few dreamy moments as she made the tea and set the pot on the hob to keep warm. She wanted to savour the experience of the morning because she knew it must never happen again. Her silly fancy for William Davies must be forgotten for she was a respectably married woman.
She poured the weak, glowing tea
into her cup and sank down in the rocking-chair, the cup between her hands. She would forget William Davies and the riot of feelings he had woken in her but not just yet. No, not just yet.
CHAPTER TWO
‘I think it will be a great success.’ William smiled at Hari Grenfell across the table of Lewis’s Oyster Saloon. ‘The locals are already curious about the new shop. Indeed I had one potential customer in earlier today and took the trouble to show her round, though I’m not officially open yet, of course.’
He saw Hari smile and a feeling of affection for her washed over him. Hari was respected as the wife of one of Swansea’s leading citizens, but was also accepted in her own right as a successful business woman. Over the past few years, Hari had become a household name in Swansea for finely fashioned, bespoke boots and shoes. And moreover, she was famous countrywide for her work on modified footwear for children born with deformities of the feet.
Her marriage to Craig Grenfell had been the talk of Swansea when it had taken place almost two years ago; the woman from the lower orders who had risen so high now had the unstinting admiration of her fellows. And yet she was still the same lovable, generous Hari he’d always admired.
‘I don’t know what I would have done without you, Hari,’ William said softly. ‘If you hadn’t taken me from that hovel that was my home I would probably be begging on the streets of Swansea today.’
‘I doubt it,’ Hari said drily and changed the subject. ‘From the way you speak about this customer’ – there was a teasing note in her voice now – ‘a certain light in your eyes, I’d say this “customer” was a very beautiful young woman.’
‘Right as always,’ William sighed. ‘I never could keep any secrets from you, could I?’
Hari reached out and took his hand. ‘Well, I should think not! Closer than brother and sister we’ve been to each other, Will.’
He gripped her hand. ‘I know I don’t often say it, but I’ve never ceased to be grateful for all you’ve done for me.’ He spoke softly.
She leaned over and kissed his cheek. ‘You have earned your success by your hard work and your talent and don’t you forget it,’ Hari said firmly. ‘I’m very proud of you, Will, and I know you’ll make a success of the shop at Oystermouth.’
William leaned back in his chair still holding Hari’s hand. ‘What shall I call the shop?’ he asked thoughtfully. ‘Shall I call Grenfell’s after you, Hari?’
She shook her head firmly. ‘No, the shop is yours as well as mine, we are partners, Will.’ She smiled. ‘What about THE WILLIAM DAVIES BOOT AND SHOE STORE?’
Will smiled. ‘That sounds very good,’ he said, excitement gripping him. ‘And one day, if I meet the right woman, perhaps I can change the name to DAVIES AND SONS.’
Hari’s eyebrows rose. ‘I see, talking about offspring already then? This young woman you’ve met must be somebody very special.’
William sighed. ‘I really think she could be. I don’t know anything about her, I don’t even know her name and yet there was a closenesss between us, I can’t explain it, I felt I wanted to take her in my arms and hold her. It was as though she belonged to me.’ He laughed self-consciously. ‘Must be losing my mind, what do you think?’
‘I think you were a bit slow, Will, to tell you the truth. Why didn’t you find out more about this mysterious lady?’ Hari said gently and William knew she was concerned for him. ‘I mean you are so fluent with young ladies usually, I can’t understand you not even learning her name.’
‘I know,’ Will confessed. ‘I don’t understand myself, but I didn’t want to frighten her off by being too forward. She’ll come to see me again, I know she will.’
Hari pushed away her plate. ‘Those oysters were delicious, I must put in my order with Mr Lewis and have some delivered to Summer Lodge today.’
Will knew that she was deliberately changing the subject. Hari was not one to pry, her great gift was in showing her interest without intruding.
She picked up her bag. ‘I’d better get back home, I’m not working today and I promised to take David to the park if the weather holds fine.’
David was Hari’s young son, a handsome boy, the image of his father with the same dark hair and strong features. No one could mistake David for anyone else’s child.
‘And I’d better get back to Oystermouth,’ he said, ‘I’ve some hiring to do.’
Eline bit her lip, the incoming tide was bringing with it fresh storms. The rain clouds were heavy in the sky and the whipping of spray against the rocks was an ominous sight to the women waiting on the beach for their menfolk to come home.
‘Duw, I hope Skipper George is bringing the boats in early’ – Carys Morgan stood beside Eline, her plump arms folded over the fringes of her shawl – ‘otherwise they’ll all be caught in the gale that’s coming. See the lowering clouds over the head? Always means a storm when the clouds gather above the rocks like that.’
Eline was used to looking for signs of weather changes, a storm could be just as bad on a farm as it was at sea. Lives could be wrecked, whole harvests lost but then she could not expect Carys to know that.
‘They’re coming in!’ The call came from one of the women waiting higher up the beach. ‘I can see the sails just coming around the head now.’
Eline’s heart missed a beat, the Mixon Sands just beyond the head were notorious for the strong currents that had brought many a sailor to grief.
Carys seemed to read her mind. ‘Don’t worry, merchi, the men know these seas like the back of their hands, mind; you won’t catch the men of Oystermouth making any silly mistakes.’
But Carys was anxious in spite of her words; there was a feeling of tension about the way she tightened her arms over her plump breasts and her knuckles gleamed white as she clenched her hands into fists.
‘Of course they’ll be all right,’ Eline agreed uncertainly. ‘It doesn’t do to worry.’ She repeated Carys’s words but there was a feeling of emptiness within her as she saw the pitifully frail boats battling against the rising tide.
The boats seemed to be huddled together as if for support but, as the first ones rounded the head, the women sent up a cheer.
‘There we are,’ Carys said triumphantly, ‘once in the shelter of the bay the waters are calmer, the men will be safe now, please God.’
The Emmeline was one of the first boats to come in to anchor near the shore and Eline pushed the row boat quickly into the waves, preparing to greet her husband.
Inexperienced as she was, it was hard negotiating the stormy seas. She attempted to row but it seemed she was forced back on to the sand, her puny efforts to ride the waves thwarted at every dip of her oars.
Nina Parks appeared as though from nowhere and practically ordered Eline to leave the boat. Defeated, Eline complied and watched Nina steadily draw away from her towards the skiffs.
From where she stood, the spray cold in her face, Eline could see that Joe was not attempting to transfer the catch to the small boat. He climbed from the Emmeline and took the oars and with strong strokes pulled for the shore.
‘Good trip?’ Eline shouted above the wind, ignoring Nina.
‘Good enough.’ Joe leaped on to the beach and pulled on the line, drawing the boat on to the sand. The women came forward to help.
‘Catch worth going out for Joe, bach?’ Carys called to him and Joe glanced over his shoulder as he secured the boat.
‘Aye, fair enough day’s work, mind, but I’m glad to be home. There’ll be the very devil of a storm tonight if I’m any judge.’
Even as he spoke it began to rain, huge torrents that washed down from the skies in a relentless sheet. The men and women laboured together to secure the small boats and when finally Eline led the way into the warmth of her kitchen, she was soaked to the skin.
‘Get those wet things off,’ Joe said, brushing the rain from her eyes with the pads of his thumbs. ‘You look like a little girl there with your hair hanging loose down your back.’
E
line smiled. ‘I don’t care what I look like, not going to a grand ball or anything, am I?’ She pushed the pot of stew on to the edge of the fire and hung her shawl over the peg on the door where it dripped rain that formed a shiny pool on the grey flagstones of the floor.
‘I’m going to wash myself down at the pump in the yard,’ Joe said. ‘You see to yourself, love.’
Eline hurried upstairs and quickly undressed: her clothes dropped into a heap on the wooden boards which she kicked aside distastefully. There would be some hard work to do tomorrow, washing the stubborn sand from her petticoats.
As she reached out for a towel, Joe entered the bedroom. He was stripped to the waist, a tall, muscular man, a handsome man. He stood looking at her, his dark hair plastered against his forehead.
‘Duw, there’s lovely you are, Eline.’ He came to her and took her in his arms, rubbing his hands against her spine. ‘So pretty and frail, sometimes I can’t believe my luck that you are really my wife.’
He kissed her neck. ‘I waited so long for you, my love, so very long.’ He kissed her mouth and held her close to him.
Eline pushed him away. ‘Get dressed, Joe, or you’ll be catching your death of cold,’ she said, her heart thumping. She did not want Joe to make love to her, not now when she’d met the most wonderful man in all the world. It would be a betrayal. And yet wasn’t that nonsense? Didn’t she belong to Joe in every way? What right had she to refuse her husband?
His breathing became more ragged. Still holding her with one hand, he drew off his trews, dropping them alongside her clothes on the floor.
‘My lovely, lovely girl.’ He whispered the words in her ear as if they might be overheard. ‘I want you so much, I’ll always want you, my sweet Emmeline.’
He drew her down on to the bed and covered her with his body. ‘Say you love me, just a little.’ He rose above her, staring down at her as though he could read into her very soul.