The Oyster Catchers

by Iris Gower

  ‘I know,’ Fon said, ‘I think everyone was surprised when Joe’s letter was read by a proper solicitor naming Mam as the one who inherited his house. Mam must feel very strange owning her own home and her living in a rented cottage all her life.’

  Fon took a deep breath. ‘Fair play to Eline, mind, she didn’t make any fuss about it, said Joe’s word was law and that Mam deserved to be rewarded for all she’d done. It’s a wonder she’s not bitter about it all, her going out to work to support him and that.’

  ‘Well, love, those problems you must leave to other folk to sort out, all you have to do is visit your mother, show her that you care. If you like, you can bring her up here for a few days – perhaps a change of air will do her good.’

  ‘We’ll see,’ Fon smiled, ‘I don’t think she’ll leave Oystermouth, but thank you for the offer, it’s so kind of you to think of it.’

  ‘This is your home, Fon,’ Jamie said firmly, ‘if you want to invite your mam, then you have every right.’ He sighed. ‘I know I miss my mam and dad, I wish they were still alive.’ He looked up at Fon. ‘I’ve only you and Patrick to care for now.’

  She looked at him, her face soft with love and wished that he would say the words that would make her heart fly up with the birds. Until he actually spoke out she wouldn’t know if he loved her or was simply taking the easiest way out of his loneliness.

  ‘I’ll run you down to Oystermouth tomorrow,’ he broke the silence, ‘don’t stay away too long, will you, Fon? I don’t know what I’ll do without you.’

  When she was in bed, Fon stared into the darkness, wondering what it would be like to lie in Jamie’s arms, to be his wife with all that implied. She was nervous, she had never gone out with followers, not like Sal and Gwyneth who had taken to courting as naturally as ducks swim on ponds.

  Fon sighed and turned over on to her side, her face buried in the pillow wondering what it felt like to be loved by a man. Would she let Jamie down? After all, he had been married to Katherine for some time, he was an experienced man.

  Fon felt her colour rise even though she was alone in the darkness. She pushed away the uncomfortable thoughts of failing to please Jamie and forced her eyes shut. And yet sleep wouldn’t come, she was worried and afraid, but perhaps it would help if she talked matters over with Mam tomorrow.

  And yet, in her heart, Fon knew that when the time came to speak of such things, her tongue would cleave to the roof of her mouth with nerves and she would be unable to utter a word.

  At last she slept and in her dreams she was in church with Jamie at her side and a Bible clutched in her hand. The vicar was offering a blessing on the union between Fon Parks and Jamie and everything was bathed in the light of romance and dreams, and there was no reality to spoil the moment.

  Eline knew she must make up her mind what to do about Joe’s boat and that meant a trip into Oystermouth. She had not set foot in the place since Joe had died, partly because she knew she wouldn’t be welcome and partly because she was riddled with guilt that she had not been with Joe at the end.

  But, she had to be practical, she knew that the boat would deteriorate if she didn’t decide what to do with it and, after all, the Emmeline had been Joe’s pride and joy. Hopefully, she could sell the boat, get it off her hands and then perhaps she could begin to come to terms with her guilt.

  On top of the train, looking out over the sea, Eline clasped her hands together and tried to suppress the nervousness that seemed to grip her. She feared the hostility of the villagers but, perhaps even more, she feared coming face to face with Will Davies. Her heart thudded at the thought of the row they’d had and she immediately felt ashamed; she shouldn’t have hurt him, but it had been imperative that he realized it was all over between them.

  And yet how she wanted him! She rubbed at her face self-consciously and stared more intently at the ebbing waves without really seeing them.

  When Eline alighted from the train, she walked briskly along the road towards the small cottage where she had gone on her wedding day. The door was open, the house deserted and, after a moment’s hesitation, Eline went inside.

  There was no sign of Nina, but Eline knew she must talk to her, ask her advice about the boat. In a way, it would hurt to dispose of it, it was all Eline had left of her life with Joe. And yet what would she do with an oyster skiff? She could scarcely take it out to sea herself.

  She sat in the small kitchen and stared down at the slate floor that she had scrubbed to within an inch of its life and wondered what had happened to all those weeks and months of her life when she had been married to Joe. Was it all wasted now?

  She forced herself to think of other things, her grief and guilt were almost intolerable, but returning to the village brought all her memories flooding back, the early days with Joe when she had looked up to him, grateful for his protection.

  The money for the boat, she told herself briskly, she would plough back into the business. Not that it needed it, between the design work and the portraits she was called on increasingly to paint, she scarcely had time to do any window dressing.

  She would never be rich and famous, not like Hari Grenfell but what did it matter? What did anything matter any more?

  ‘Pull yourself together!’ she said aloud, forcing herself to think about her business. She had wondered for some time which way she should go, aware that she must begin to construct her life into more ordered lines. She needed to specialize in only one field to make any real impact. But what should she devote herself to – design, window dressing or portraits? She just wasn’t clear about it at all, her thoughts were so chaotic these days.

  ‘Bore da, Eline, what a surprise to see you. How are you this morning?’ Carys was standing in the doorway, she was smiling in her usual good-natured way and yet she looked a little peaky. Startled from her thoughts, Eline looked up quickly.

  ‘Carys, I was waiting for Nina but perhaps I’d better come back another day.’

  ‘Come into my house and wait,’ Carys said, ‘the baby is sleeping so we’ll have some peace, at least for a little while.’

  Gratefully, Eline followed Carys into the warm homeliness of the next-door kitchen. The fire burned up cheerfully and the wooden table was spread with a bright, checked cloth upon which stood a bowl of flowers.

  ‘Sit you down, Eline, you look pale and tired, not still beating yourself with the stick of guilt, are you?’

  Eline wondered at Carys’s perception, homely she might be, but Carys was kindness itself. ‘How can I help it? I left my husband and went off selfishly to follow my own plans. What sort of wife is that?’

  ‘Now come on,’ Carys made the tea deftly and quickly, swirling the hot water around the brown china pot before carefully adding the tea leaves, ‘if my Sam had taken up with Nina Parks I might have walked out too, but,’ she smiled, ‘I don’t think I’d have had the guts.’

  ‘I can’t pretend I was being unselfish or self-sacrificing,’ Eline said, ‘I was thinking of myself, I was glad to get away from Oystermouth and I can’t forget I wasn’t here to look after Joe when he died.’

  ‘And could you have prevented what happened if you were here?’ Carys reasoned. ‘Of course not, no one could. Get on with your life, Eline, forget the past, it’s the only way.’

  ‘I know you’re right,’ Eline said softly. ‘What have I really to keep me tied to Oystermouth except a few friends like you and Sam?’

  There’s Will Davies. For a moment, Eline wondered if she’d spoken then aloud but Carys was handing her a cup without changing the expression on her kindly face.

  ‘Drink up, love, give yourself a breathing space, think things over and then make up your mind what to do when you’re sure what you want.’

  ‘Will I ever be sure of what I want?’ Eline said. ‘I seem to be at sixes and sevens with myself, I can’t seem to think clearly any more.’

  ‘It’s not really surprising,’ Carys said, easing herself stiffly into the rocking-chair, ‘you have su
ffered a lot of worries lately, as I said, you must give yourself time to get over the shock of poor Joe’s death, then you will be able to think straight, you’ll see.’

  Eline leaned forward, suddenly concerned; Carys was definitely not herself, there were lines of worry around her eyes and mouth.

  ‘Here’s me going on about my troubles,’ Eline said, ‘what’s wrong with you?’ Aware that her words might sound abrupt Eline qualified her question. ‘I mean is anything troubling you? You look, I don’t know, anxious I suppose is the word.’

  ‘It’s the oysters, the supply is drying up,’ Carys seemed happy to talk, ‘everyone is feeling the pinch, some of the village folks are so bad off they’re not even eating the oysters themselves but keeping the catch to sell.’

  Eline was shocked, she had been so wrapped up in herself that she hadn’t noticed what was going on in the village.

  ‘The authorities may even stop the men fishing in the Swansea Bay if the situation gets any worse,’ Carys sighed. ‘I don’t know what things are coming to.’

  ‘But you and Sam are all right, aren’t you?’ Eline asked anxiously and Carys smiled ruefully.

  ‘Aye, all right for now but the beds have been over dredged, the oysters haven’t been allowed to breed properly.’ Her voice grew unusually angry.

  ‘It’s not the regular fishermen like Sam who’ve been working the beds out of season but the casuals that come from other parts.’

  Eline felt quiet, unable to find the words to comfort Carys for she knew that without oysters, the village would probably die. People would move to the town and Oystermouth would be nothing but a ghost town.

  ‘Poor Mrs Marsh is selling up her boarding house,’ Carys continued talking, as if glad to get her worries out into the open. ‘Not many guests staying there any longer, the regulars have either died off or set up in their own homes and with no one new coming to the village, there’s nothing to keep her going here any longer in that big old house.’

  ‘What about Will Davies?’ Eline asked with a sudden feeling of panic. ‘Where is he staying?’

  Carys shrugged. ‘I don’t know, he might still be at the boarding house, at least until it is sold.’ Her shoulders slumped. ‘If the fishing dries up completely, what will happen to us all?’

  Eline bit her lip, her sense of panic abating. Will had not left the district but, perhaps, on reflection, it would be better for everyone if he had.

  ‘Don’t worry, Carys,’ Eline leaned forward, ‘there’s bound to be a better harvest next year, particularly if Swansea Bay is closed. I know it will be tough now but give the oysters a chance to breed and matters are bound to improve.’

  ‘No,’ Carys shook her head, ‘the oysters take years to mature, nothing will happen by next year, lovie.’

  Eline realized how very little she knew about the business of oyster breeding and fishing and her cheeks flamed.

  ‘I’m sorry, Carys, it was stupid of me to comment on something I know nothing about.’

  ‘You were only trying to cheer me up,’ Carys said. She straightened her shoulders. ‘And quite right too, I’m being stupid, not you.’ She smiled. ‘I can always go and work in the quarry, I’m not helpless.’ She poured some more tea.

  ‘Anyway, Nina Parks got no money worries from what I hear, she has no rent to pay a demanding landlord.’

  Eline took the fresh tea and sipped it before answering. ‘Joe felt that Nina was entitled to have the house and I don’t blame him.’

  ‘Very generous of you,’ Carys said drily, ‘many a woman would have fought such a thing tooth and nail, you were his legal wife, mind.’

  ‘I know,’ Eline said, ‘but I wanted to abide by Joe’s wishes. He did leave me the boat after all.’

  ‘And a fat lot of good that’s going to do you now,’ Carys dismissed. ‘Who wants an oyster skiff when there’s no oysters?’

  Eline put down her cup and rose to her feet, shaking out the creases in her skirt. ‘If I can help in any way, Carys, just let me know, all right?’ Eline made up her mind to bring a basket of fruit and vegetables with her next time she called. It would be difficult to get Carys to accept what she’d look on as charity, but if Eline concocted some story about having too much food herself perhaps Carys would relent and take the gift.

  Eline stood for a moment outside the small cottage she had shared with Joe and looked around her wistfully, she had been so happy to come here as a bride, so proud of the ring on her finger and her status as a married woman. And yet she had failed Joe miserably; could she ever forgive herself for that?

  Eline began to walk back along the roadway in the direction of the train terminus. She looked around her seeing everything with fresh eyes after her talk with Carys and for the first time Eline realized that real poverty was beginning to stalk the small village. Oystermouth was on the verge of disaster.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Eline held the letter in her hand and re-read it for the second time. She still could not believe the good news it contained.

  A carriage drew to a halt outside Eline’s office and glancing up, she saw Hari Grenfell alight, her skirt held high to reveal the now fashionable cuff boot in softest kid, dyed brown to match Mrs Grenfell’s outfit.

  Eagerly, Eline opened the door and smiled. ‘Come in, but excuse the mess.’ She gestured at the littered desk. ‘It’s not always this bad, but I’ve had a few ideas lately and I seem to have used up an awful lot of paper working them out.

  ‘That’s all right, it reminds me of my workroom at home. I can’t stay long, I’ve just come to tell you how well your design is going, it’s been taken up by a French house now and your future as a designer is secured abroad as well as at home.’ She smiled. ‘I’m so proud to have had a hand in all this, really I am.’

  ‘Please sit down.’ Eline moved some papers from a chair and realized that she still had the letter clutched in her hand.

  ‘Perhaps you can advise me,’ Eline said quickly, ‘I’m in a bit of a muddle, I don’t know what to think.’

  ‘What is it,’ Hari asked, ‘anything wrong?’

  Eline shook her head, ‘Quite the opposite.’ She seated herself behind the desk and looked down at the letter. ‘I did some portraits a while ago for a lady in Bristol, a Mrs Charlotte Brentford.’

  She glanced at Hari. ‘I wasn’t sure I could do it but the portrait I painted of Maria, their eldest daughter, was sent to her prospective husband and he liked the portrait so much that he came down from London immediately to meet Maria. Well, it seems they fell in love right away and they are to be married.’

  ‘Congratulations,’ Hari said, ‘I see your talents are endless. I think it’s wonderful, but why does all this put you in a muddle?’

  ‘Well,’ Eline rushed on, ‘this man, Lord Greyfield, is a patron of the arts and it seems he would like to set me up in a gallery in Swansea so that I can do my paintings and sell them both here and in London. He would handle that end for me.’

  ‘And take a commission I expect,’ Hari said gently. ‘Still this is a wonderful opportunity, if you want to take it. The question is, do you?’

  Eline sighed. ‘I don’t know if I’ll ever be good enough to sell work in London, but I’ve always loved painting pictures. I remember doing sketches when I was a child living on the farm.’ She looked up suddenly in surprise and smiled. ‘Yes, I think it is what I want to do.’

  Hari looked disappointed. ‘Well, the arts world’s gain will be a loss to the shoemaking industry, but if it is really what you want then you must go all out to make it a success. Perhaps you would still help me in an advisory capacity from time to time, keep the designing as a second string to your bow. It’s always useful to have more than one outlet.

  ‘In time you may well have enough capital to develop both talents, run a thriving studio and when times are quiet, as they are at the moment, use your talents in the shoe trade. Footwear is always needed.’

  ‘You talk a lot of sense,’ Eline said softly,
‘but you have such a fine talent yourself that I’m sure you don’t need me.’

  Hari smiled. ‘It’s kind of you to say so, Eline, but one day I’m going to be the one who is honoured to be mentioned in the same breath as you.’

  She rose to her feet. ‘I must get back home, I promised Craig I wouldn’t be out long but remember, Eline, all my good wishes go with you.’

  She paused. ‘You can look on your work with designing and window dressing as a good grounding in the years to come, I feel sure of that. Take care, Eline, and if there is anything I can do to help you, don’t hesitate to come to see me.’

  When Eline was alone, she read the letter again and she was filled with a sudden surge of energy; she must look for suitable premises, that was the first thing she must do.

  She looked out of the window at the wall of the building opposite and wondered where the best site would be for her gallery. She would need somewhere where there was plenty of space and light, room to work and room to exhibit, somewhere the rich of Swansea could come and gaze in comfort.

  Mrs Marsh’s boarding house! The thought sprang into her mind like a breath of scented breeze and she smiled. She thought of the large attic that looked out over the sea, facing south, and of the high-ceilinged elegant rooms – she knew she had found just the place.

  She chewed the end of her pencil, her mind racing. She would need staff, some one to clean the rooms, some one who would be unobtrusive and reliable. Carys Morgan, of course! And Sam, her husband, perhaps he would be able and willing to frame the paintings when they were dry. It would provide practical help for the couple until the oyster industry picked up again. Perhaps in time, Eline would be able to afford to increase her staff and where better to provide work than the village which was beginning to feel the pinch of poverty? Perhaps in time the villagers would even forget their hostility towards her – it was a happy thought.

  It was only a few days later that Eline was seated in the front parlour of the boarding house trying to convince Mrs Marsh that to sell her home would be the best thing for her to do in the circumstances.