by Iris Gower
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
It was still dark when Eline heard a knock on the door in the early hours of the next morning. She roused herself stiffly from the chair where she had spent a restless night and tried to respond to the cheery voice of Carys Morgan calling her.
‘Eline, I thought it was you in here last night, but I didn’t want to disturb you. However, I am so excited, I want to show you my little boy.’ Carys’s broad face beamed a welcome and a warmth filled Eline as she saw the baby nestling in a Welsh shawl, held securely against Carys’s ample breast.
‘You’ve had your baby!’ Eline said. ‘Let me see him. What have you called him?’
‘We’ve named him after his father, look, isn’t he the handsomest thing?’ Carys smiled ruefully. ‘But he don’t sleep much, mind. Oh, once he’s woken me up and got me up out of bed, he settles down then!’ Her proud smile belied her words.
The child was sound asleep now, his tiny eyelashes resting on rounded cheeks. Looking down at him, Eline was filled with a warm glow, but in that moment, she felt an inner sense of gratitude that she had not borne a child by Joe Harries. A child was a precious thing, to be born into a household of love and security, not into a marriage as rocky as hers.
‘Sit down, Carys, I’ll make us some tea.’ Eline had kept the fire going in the long, dark hours of the night unwilling to sleep in the bed that Joe and Nina were occupying together. Joe, Eline thought, have you no loyalty, no conscience at all?
She had been on tenterhooks all night expecting Joe to return at any moment from Port Eynon. She had dreaded the moment when she would come face to face with her husband again and yet now that he wasn’t there, she had the dreadful fear that something might have happened to him or to his son.
‘Heard anything from Port Eynon?’ Carys said as though reading her thoughts.
Eline sighed. ‘No, and it doesn’t sound as though the storm has blown itself out, does it? I shouldn’t think the crew will have been brought ashore from the stricken ship yet, do you?’
Carys shook her head. ‘My old man has gone down the coast along with Skipper George. All the fishermen of Oystermouth have gone to offer their help, because we’ve had enough tragedies at sea ourselves.’
Carys took the cup and sipped at the tea gratefully. ‘Lovely, not much tea left in our house, mind, I’ll be glad when the season starts again and there’s money coming in.’ She shuddered. ‘Though this sort of summer weather makes you wonder what the winter will be like this year.’
The two women sat quietly for a moment and then Carys coughed as though she was unnerved by the silence that was broken only by the falling of the coals inside the kitchen and the booming wind outside.
‘Will you be coming home?’ Carys said softly. ‘I do miss you, mind. That Nina Parks, she’s not a good neighbour like you, too wrapped up in herself she is, mind.’
‘I don’t suppose the women are very kind to her,’ Eline said drily, feeling that the attitude of the villagers was bound to be hostile towards one they would see as a fallen woman, but she was wrong.
‘Folks have been all right to Nina,’ Carys said slowly. ‘She’s one of us, after all. I’ve tried to be friendly, not wanting to be disloyal to you, mind,’ she added hastily, ‘but the woman is with child and could do with a friend close by.’
‘She has her daughters,’ Eline said a little coldly. ‘I don’t suppose she needs anyone else.’
‘Perhaps not,’ Carys agreed, ‘but then Gwyneth is working and Sal is in service and not much bothered with her mam and the other one, the youngest one, Fon, she’s gone to work up on Townhill on a farm somewhere.’
Eline looked up suddenly interested. ‘A farm, do you mean Honey’s Farm?’
Carys shrugged. ‘Aye, that sounds right. Tom Parks was telling my Sam about it, glad he was that little Fon was out of it, away from the nasty gossip ’bout his mam living tally with your Joe.’
Eline sighed feeling suddenly homesick for the open land where the green fields rolled downhill towards the rushing stream and where it felt as though she lived on the very top of the world. There her life had been uncomplicated; she had been young and innocent and had lived for the peacefulness of the countryside. In that moment she envied Fon.
‘That Gwyneth is a strange one,’ Carys continued, ‘she’s a good girl to her mam, mind, looks out for her well enough, but her head is full of dreams.’ Carys paused for a moment and Eline looked at her, anxious about the guarded look that came over Carys’s face.
‘What do you mean?’ she asked. It was unlike Carys to be fanciful and Eline waited, suddenly apprehensive about the explanation.
‘You know she works for Mr Davies in the boot shop, don’t you?’ Carys said softly. ‘Well, it’s common knowledge she’s set her cap at him so to speak. Above her in station he is, mind, but they are together a lot in that store and her sleeves were rolled up helping him clean up after the fire. Strange thing that fire, no one knows how it got started. Anyway, getting in good there, Gwyneth is, looking after number one.’
Eline felt as though she had been doused in cold water, she swallowed hard and willed herself to speak naturally.
‘Well, why not?’ she said and her voice, to her surprise, sounded almost normal. ‘She’s a single girl and he is a free man, nothing really to stand between them.’
She felt suddenly sick and ill and, although Eline told herself it was simply the weariness of a night without sleep, she wanted to cry out her pain and frustration.
Instead she invited Carys to have another cup of tea and looked in the pantry for something to eat. Perhaps with food inside her she could better cope with whatever would happen that day.
‘I must go,’ Carys said shaking her head at the offer of hot buttered toast, ‘there’s the washing to be done for the baby and food to get ready for my Sam, though God knows what time he’ll be home from Port Eynon.’
When Carys had left, Eline stared around the small kitchen, knowing that whatever happened, this could never be part of her life again. Even if Nina Parks should leave Joe for good, choosing her son over her lover, then Joe would have to remain alone.
She rose to her feet; why should she even wait here for him? Did it matter to her if he lived or died? He had betrayed her, taken another woman to their marriage bed and Eline no longer owed him any loyalty.
Yet, even as she picked up her things and made for the door, she sighed heavily; she would have to wait, she could not go back to Swansea without knowing that Joe was safe, she owed him that much.
She returned to her chair and sank down into it burying her face in her hands. Her tears were not for Joe, but for herself because she feared that Will Davies just might be falling in love with Nina Parks’s daughter. Blast the Parks family! Eline thought bitterly, what more pain were they to bring her?
* * *
Nina woke up feeling that something was wrong. She stared around the strange room and remembered where she was and what had happened. Tom, her son, was caught at sea in a storm and by now might have drowned – how could she have allowed herself to sleep?
Suddenly the pain struck. Nina grasped her stomach where the pain was growing stronger until it seemed to be tearing her in two.
‘Joe,’ she called out, ‘the baby, it’s coming early, I’m not going to lose it, am I?’ She sank back against the pillows and stared round the unfamiliar room wondering why all this tragedy should be happening to her.
Joe came into the room; he smelled of sea, salt and cold wind. ‘Hush now,’ he said softly, ‘I heard you moaning in your sleep and I’ve sent for the midwife. She’ll be here before you know it.’
He sat silently by the bed, staring out at the storm-tossed sea beyond the railings of the garden and Nina could see by the tenseness of his neck that he was worried.
‘The ship, is she brought into shore yet?’ Nina forced her mind above the pain that was wrenching at her body. She knew by Joe’s silence that Tom was still in danger. ‘The men can’t hold
out any longer, they’ll be exhausted, swept out to sea, oh Joe, I can’t stand it!’
Her voice rose in spite of herself and immediately, Nina felt ashamed. She had borne four children without a murmur, suffered the pangs of childbirth with fortitude as any woman should, for it did no good to scream and protest; a child would only come when it was ready. But this one, this one that was to bind her to Joe once and for all, was coming too soon, six weeks too soon.
‘When the midwife comes, I’ll go down to the beach,’ Joe said placatingly, ‘I’ll find out what’s happening, don’t you worry, the storm is running itself out now.’
‘Please God,’ Nina said softly. The storm within herself was growing stronger, she knew now that nothing could stop the child from coming into the world, the pains were too fierce to be resisted. She groaned softly just as the door opened and a tall, elegant young woman entered the room.
‘Out you go,’ she said briskly to Joe, ‘I’m Mrs Morris, the midwife around here, I’ll see to things now.’
Nina wished fervently that she was home in Oystermouth, with kindly old Mrs Flynn who was gnarled and grey but whose hands were deftness itself and whose wisdom in matters of childbirth was legendary. How could she trust herself to this young chit of a girl who looked down at her so dispassionately?
‘How long have you been having pains?’ Mrs Morris asked, lifting the sheets and carefully pressing Nina’s swollen belly.
‘For hours, nurse,’ Nina said, ‘but the child isn’t due for some time yet. I won’t lose it, will I? I’m too old to be having a baby really.’
Mrs Morris smiled for the first time and her face was transformed into a picture of reassurance.
‘I shouldn’t think so, not a woman of your strong stock. In any case, what I always say is never look for trouble till trouble looks for you, Mrs Harries.’
Nina didn’t attempt to correct the midwife’s misapprehension; let her think that Nina and Joe were lawfully married, it was one comfort at least not to have to bear the woman’s scorn or worse, her pity.
As the midwife examined her, Nina pondered over her words. She had been comforting about the chances of the baby being born all right, hadn’t she? And Tom, he would be brought off the ship quite soon now, surely, it seemed that the strength had gone out of the wind. She tried to calm her fears, everything was going to be all right.
‘Right then, the contractions are coming strong and hard and you are near enough fully dilated. Only a few hours more now, Mrs Harries.’
‘How many more hours?’ Nina asked fretfully. ‘Enough time for me to get home to Oystermouth?’
‘I wouldn’t advise moving you at this stage,’ Mrs Morris said tartly. ‘I’m quite capable of looking after you, don’t you worry about that.’ She came and stood beside the bed.
‘I can see I’m going to have to be honest with you, the baby is not in a good position; it’s going to be a breach birth, difficult at the best of times.’
Nina looked up at her, her eyes steady even though her nerves were suddenly screaming. ‘And this isn’t the best of times, that’s what you’re saying, isn’t it?’
Mrs Morris nodded. ‘The baby is not full term, otherwise it would probably have righted itself by now and would appear head first. And then there’s your age … no, I wouldn’t advise a journey right now.’
There was a sudden if faint cheer from the beach outside the house and Mrs Morris moved quickly to the window. ‘Good,’ she said, ‘it looks as if the crew have been landed on the beach, just in time, too, because the ship is listing badly. Once the tide comes in, she’ll go right over more than likely.’
Nina struggled to sit up. ‘Tom, my son, he was on board, I pray to God that he’s all right.’ And if Tom was safe, how would he react to Joe being on the scene and Nina brought to bed with child?
‘Your husband is coming towards the house and there’s a handsome young man with him,’ Mrs Morris said softly. She didn’t add that the pair of them seemed to be quarrelling furiously. She let herself out into the sun-warmed day and Nina fell back against her pillows, knowing in her heart that the midwife was issuing a warning against any upsets to her patient. Nina felt relieved, at least now the men would have to be civil to each other.
When her son entered the room, he was drawn and tired and there was a bruise around his temple, but otherwise he looked his usual self.
‘Tom!’ Nina wanted to tell her son how much she loved him, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead she held out her arms and he embraced her.
She hugged him close for a few moments and then brushed aside the damp hair from his forehead. ‘You’re wet through, son,’ she said, ‘but are you all right?’
‘Aye,’ Tom said, ‘but are you, Mam? You look right bad to me.’
‘Go now,’ Nina felt a pain coming and pushed her son aside, ‘get into dry clothes, Joe brought a pile of stuff with us. See you don’t catch your death of cold and leave me to get on with my business.’
As soon as her son was out of the room, Nina pushed her fist into her mouth and bit hard. The pain seemed to encompass her, not the natural, ebbing pain of childbirth, but a tearing that left her gagging and weak.
Mrs Morris stared down at her patient and frowned. She moved to the door and through her mist of pain, Nina saw Joe standing outside, his face strained, harsh lines running from nose to mouth. His eyes met Nina’s and, for a moment, he smiled.
‘Hang on there, cariad,’ he said hoarsely, ‘everything is going to be all right.’ He turned away as Mrs Morris pushed the door shut and Nina felt suddenly bereft. She groaned low in her throat as the pain hurled her into a pit from which she felt she would never rise again.
‘The doctor is on his way,’ Mrs Morris sounded falsely cheerful. ‘He’ll give you something to ease the pain.’
She laid a sympathetic hand on Nina’s forehead and them, lifting the sheets from Nina’s tortured body, put into place a sheet of brown paper that crackled with a life of its own.
Nina was dimly aware of the doctor coming in, looking down at her, talking, endlessly talking. Why didn’t he do something?
A spoon was pushed between her gritted teeth and Nina gulped at the bitter medicine, hoping it would bring her release from the agony that was wearing her down. She was a strong woman, God only knew how she’d managed alone all these years, bringing up her three girls and her son, but this awful torture, she could not bear it.
‘The mother or the child?’ the doctor was asking a question of someone unseen, the answer was unintelligible and then Nina felt herself falling into the welcome blackness of an abyss.
‘Two days!’ Eline said softly as she stared into the fire. ‘Two days I’ve been here waiting for what the good Lord only knows. I must be out of my mind.’
She had scrubbed and cleaned the small house from top to bottom, almost as though she could erase any presence of Nina Parks from her home. But Eline knew it wasn’t any longer her home and now never would be regardless of what she did.
She had seen a very little of Carys in those two days, although she had popped in for a few minutes to relate that the crew had all been safely brought ashore from the stricken ship at Port Eynon. She had been uneasy and had not stayed long and Eline had the definite feeling that Carys had been instructed by her husband not to get involved in her neighbour’s affairs.
At least Eline had learned that there had been no fatalities during the sea rescue though one or two men had been injured. No names had been mentioned and Eline had been afraid to leave Oystermouth until she knew if Joe was safe.
Eline had seen little of Will; it was as though both of them through a tacit, unspoken agreement had kept out of each other’s way.
Eline heard the loud ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece and the coals shifting in the grate and on impulse, she rose to her feet. She had remained here long enough, there had been no further news from Port Eynon, no one had come to the cottage to volunteer any information and it was almost as though she had
ceased to exist.
She was busy taking off the sheets from the spare bed where she had slept the previous night when she heard the door open and the sound of voices downstairs.
Reluctantly, Eline went down to the kitchen in time to see Joe lower Nina into a chair. Beside her was her son and all three turned to look at Eline as she entered the room, her arms full of sheets.
Eline could not fail to see the way Joe’s face lit up for a moment before falling once again into lines of worry as he stared down at Nina.
It was Tom who spoke. ‘Have you come to claim what is yours, Eline?’ he said and there was something resembling sympathy in his eyes.
She shook her head. ‘No, but I wanted to be sure everything was all right …’ Her voice trailed away; it was clear that nothing was right. Nina’s face was almost yellow, her eyes shadowed by black circles, her skin hanging like discarded linen on the big bones of her face.
‘I’ve lost my baby,’ Nina said almost distantly and it was as though she didn’t recognize Eline. ‘It was coming too early, see, and breach birth and I was too old, too old to be carrying.’
‘It’s all right, Mam,’ Tom put his hand on her shoulder, ‘you must get strong now, we’ll build you up, you’ll see.’
For a moment, there was silence in the kitchen and Eline felt it was up to her to take the initiative.
‘I’ll just put these sheets in the bath out the back and then I’ll take my leave.’ She spoke as though she was a visitor, a cleaning woman perhaps, come to help out at times of crisis. And that is just how she felt, removed from it all, from Joe’s pain and Nina’s weakness, and although she was sorry, she also was relieved. It felt as though somehow she had been freed from a heavy burden.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said softly, ‘I hope you’ll be well again soon, Mrs Parks.’ The title sounded foolish in the circumstances and yet Eline could not address the older woman as Nina, she never had and this didn’t seem a propitious moment for familiarity. She looked first at Joe who was staring down at his boots and then at Tom.