Spinner's Wharf

by Spinner's Wharf (retail) (epub)

  Spooning the lumpy porridge into the baby’s mouth was a work of art, and at last she flung down the spoon in exasperation. ‘Come on then, little girl, let’s take you to your mammy.’

  At just over a year old, Cerianne was small for her age, but even so carrying her to the tram terminus was something of an ordeal. As Rhian waited patiently in the queue, her anger was increasing until she almost felt she could physically attack Delmai Richardson. She was irresponsible and cold-hearted.

  Rhian heard the hum of the tram before it came into sight, feeling the vibration of the wheels on the rails near her feet. It was a relief to sink on to the wooden slatted seat and she sighed heavily, hoisting Cerianne higher and tucking the small turnover more firmly around the little girl. Cerianne whimpered and Rhian felt herself grow tense, praying that the baby would not set up a wailing. The woman in the next seat glanced at her sympathetically.

  ‘There’s red the little one’s cheeks are, teething is she?’ The voice was kindly and Rhian smiled gratefully.

  ‘I suppose so. Poor Cerianne!’ she whispered against the soft cheek.

  ‘Rub in some witch hazel, girl, it’ll do the trick right enough – used it on all my babbas, I did.’

  The tram jolted to a halt and Rhian rose unsteadily to her feet, smiling her thanks. She stepped down into the roadway and sighed in relief – not far to go now.

  She knocked on the door of the imposing house with a feeling of apprehension, but the sounds of life from within cheered her and she smiled as a young maid opened the door and looked down at her from the high steps.

  ‘I’m here to see Mrs Richardson,’ Rhian said forcefully and the young girl’s eyes flickered over her even as she shook her head.

  ‘Madam is not up and about yet, she can’t see anybody.’

  ‘But this is urgent,’ Rhian spoke quickly. ‘I must see her. Tell her it’s Rhian Gray and I’ve got her baby with me, then she’ll come.’

  The door was closed in her face and Rhian sank down on the step prepared to wait all day if necessary. She was not about to leave without seeing Delmai, even if it meant causing a scene.

  After a long pause, during which Rhian could hear voices rising and falling within the big house, the door was flung wide and a man stood there, eyes hard, face set and angry. He was unshaven and wearing only trousers and an open shirt, but it was clear he was master of the house.

  ‘Get away from here before I set the dogs on you,’ he said fiercely. ‘We want no gaol-bird’s kin on our doorstep.’

  Rhian rose to her feet and the baby started to cry. ‘This is Delmai’s child.’ Rhian was equally angry. ‘Cerianne wants her mother – can’t you see that?’

  From behind Rickie Richardson came a small sound. Delmai was white-faced, her large eyes filled with anguish as she stood close to her husband. She made as though to move forward, but one look from Rickie stopped her in mid-stride.

  ‘I’m telling you for the last time – get off my property and don’t come back here or I’ll inform my solicitor that you are attempting to blackmail us. Now go! Don’t you understand plain English, you ignorant peasant!’

  The door was closed with such violence that it shuddered on its hinges and Rhian moved back a pace, frightened by the man’s anger.

  This was ridiculous, people couldn’t simply abandon a child and get away with it. Perhaps it was she who should see a solicitor? She was so dispirited that she hardly noticed the long journey home and when she opened the door of the old mill house, she sensed rather than saw another presence in the warmth of the kitchen.

  ‘Rhian, it’s me, Billy.’ The tall figure unwinding from the armchair was unfamiliar in a neat suit. ‘I’ve done it, girl, I’ve just enlisted!’ Then he noticed the baby and held out his hands. Cerianne laughed excitedly and snuggled into her father’s arms and Rhian felt tears burn her eyes.

  ‘My God, Rhian, what’s Cerianne doing here?’ Billy asked shakily.

  ‘Sit down while I make us a cup of tea, it’s a long story.’ She looked at her brother with shrewd eyes. ‘Joined the Army to get away from it all, have you, boyo? Don’t really blame you – that woman was never any good – but what am I going to do? Delmai won’t have Cerianne, Mr Richardson turned me away from his door.’ She sighed softly. ‘And I know nothing at all about children.’

  ‘What do you mean, he turned you away?’ Billy asked with an edge to his voice. ‘Cerianne’s place is with her mother.’

  Rhian hauled the kettle on to the flames and picked up the teapot, staring into its shiny surface as though she could read answers in the hard china.

  ‘It’s like this, Billy,’ she said in a low voice. ‘Mr Richardson says he won’t have Cerianne in the house – “gaol-bird’s kin”, that’s what he’s just called me to my face. I tried to get Delmai to take Cerianne back, I did, but it’s no use.’

  ‘Christ almighty!’ Billy thumped his fist against the table. ‘I didn’t know she’d sink so low as to give up our child.’ He rubbed one hand through his hair in a distracted gesture. ‘And I shouldn’t have acted so hastily, I realise that now.’ He looked down at his polished boots and frowned. ‘I must go to war, Rhian, there’s no getting away from it…’ He paused, ‘I’d rather Cerianne stay with you than with anyone else. I could send you money and perhaps you could get someone in to mind her while you’re working in the mill!’

  ‘You don’t know what you’re asking, Billy,’ Rhian said reluctantly. ‘Cerianne has cried all night for her mamma, so how can you expect her to settle down with me when I’m practically a stranger?’

  Billy looked lost and Rhian’s heart went out to him. ‘Billy, you surely won’t be going away just yet, will you? Why not stay here for a few days and we can see how things work out.’

  ‘That’s the best idea I’ve heard yet,’ Billy said in relief. ‘I’m waiting to be told where I start training, and I’ll be based near here for a while anyway.’

  Rhian forced herself to smile. ‘Now don’t you go worrying your head about us, we’re family and we’ll be all right.’ In spite of her optimistic words Rhian dreaded the moment when Billy would walk through the door, leaving her to cope with Cerianne alone.

  A sudden sound outside made her pause in the act of pouring tea; she looked at Billy and both of them turned expectantly.

  ‘Who’s that?’ Rhian asked and the latch was lifted, the door swinging open.

  ‘Gina!’ Rhian said in delight. ‘Come in out of the wind, cariad.’ She caught Gina’s arm, drawing her in from the greyness of the day. ‘Sit by the fire, you look frozen and so does that son of yours.’

  Billy moved quickly from his chair and Gina Sinman took his place gratefully.

  ‘I’m that tired,’ she said, staring up at the tall man with wide eyes.

  ‘This is my brother Billy,’ Rhian said, ‘and Cerianne’s his little girl. Going for a soldier, he is.’ She paused. ‘But what’s happened, Gina, did you find Heinz?’

  Gina shook back the hair that escaped from under her bonnet. ‘Looked for him I did, got trains and trams and walked miles it seems, but there’s no sign of him. Might be sent back home, the soldiers told me, but they don’t know anything for sure.’ She shrugged. ‘I had nowhere else to go, so I came home.’

  ‘There, have a nice hot cup of tea, Gina. Put the baby down on the floor and rest, you look pale as anything and so much thinner.’

  Billy stood in silence, almost to attention, his eyes resting on Gina in sympathy.

  ‘Gina’s husband owns the mill,’ Rhian explained. ‘Heinz is Austrian and he was taken away, supposed to be going into an internment camp.’ She glanced at Gina. ‘Try not to fret, the war will be over soon. Everyone is saying so, aren’t they, Billy?’

  ‘Yes, of course, bound to be. Those Huns can’t hold out against the likes of the British Army, not for much longer anyway.’

  Gina’s eyes were warm with gratitude. ‘I did the right thing then, did I? Coming back here, I mean – there won’t be no troub
le, will there?’

  ‘There’d better not be!’ Rhian said quickly. ‘Don’t worry, people have other things to think about now; there are so many wounded soldiers in town that it’s enough to be going on with listening to their tales.’ Rhian managed to smile, but Gina still looked uncertain.

  ‘Don’t want to bring you no trouble, Rhian – you’ve got enough to do trying to make a living, I know that.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, this is your home,’ Rhian said firmly.

  Cerianne began to wail and almost without thinking, Gina took the little girl on to her knee. Miraculously, Cerianne stopped crying, soothed as she was rocked in Gina’s arms. It was Billy who broke the silence.

  ‘I think you’ve just solved a problem for us, Gina.’ He hesitated over the name and for a moment his eyes held hers. ‘We were just wondering who could look after Cerianne while Rhian works in the mill.’ He paused and his smile was shy. ‘Would you be willing? You’re a born mother, I can see that all right.’

  ‘Billy, there’s clever of you, I never thought of it.’ Rhian squeezed Gina’s arm. ‘Go on, say you’ll look after the children and between us we’ll have a fair living, I’ll promise you that.’

  Gina flushed with pleasure. ‘Oh, Rhian, are you sure? I’d be glad to mind the babbas – isn’t that all I ever wanted in life, to have a big family around me?’

  Rhian saw the lines of anxiety ease from her brother’s face as she looked at him and they smiled at each other in relief.

  ‘Let’s all have another cup of tea to celebrate, is it?’ Rhian said lightly, resting her hand on Gina’s shoulder.

  The days passed quickly and easily, for Gina was good. Billy visited the mill house every evening, and with this arrangement Cerianne seemed to be content.

  Then one morning Billy came early before the dawn had woken the world. He was going away and in the kitchen there was a sombre atmosphere that made Rhian feel restless. Gina lit the fire with swift efficiency and the three of them sat together drinking endless cups of tea. When the children woke, Billy cradled Cerianne in his arms.

  The afternoon brought a sudden squall, with rain beating into the river so that the surface dimpled and ripples spread outwards in circles.

  But as Rhian hurried to the mill, glad to be going to work, a pale sun broke through the clouds and the rain ceased as suddenly as it had started. There were turnovers ready and waiting to be set out to dry and a wind was freshening, coming in with the tide that engorged the river.

  She glanced back towards the house where Billy and Gina were still talking softly together, scarcely noticing her departure. They were in the same boat really, alone and bereft though for different reasons. Yet the hurt they had both suffered seemed to make an instant bond of friendship which grew and flowered before Rhian’s eyes.

  Gina had promised to write Billy a letter each week. ‘I can let you know how little Cerianne is getting along and perhaps she can have her picture taken so I can send it to you.’ Her voice had been filled with sympathy and for a moment Billy had held her gaze before looking quickly and unseeingly into the flames of the fire which he had stoked right up the chimney.

  Rhian carried an armful of turnovers outside and hung them on the wooden rails, knowing that she must really put her back into the job if she was to earn enough to keep them all. Billy’s promise to send money had heartened her, his pay would ease the burden. And she would build up the business, perhaps eventually making them all comfortable if not rich.

  She lifted a blanket – heavy and wet from the machine which, like a colander, threw out the excess water – and staggered with it towards the rails.

  ‘Here, lass,’ a voice said gently, ‘let me help you with that.’

  Rhian froze, clutching the sodden wool against her and stared up open-mouthed at the man who was standing over her.

  ‘Mansel Jack!’ The name dropped from her lips in a whisper; she felt surprised, almost overawed by his presence.

  He lifted the blanket with ease, set it over the fence and then stood watching her, unnerving in his silence. His eyes were dark and penetrating, his crisp hair curling over his brow.

  Rhian felt the strength flow from her. She had known Mansel Jack had come to Sweyn’s Eye to work, but still she felt he should be in Yorkshire, not standing here on the banks of the river Swan looking as though he would sweep her into his arms.

  ‘You seem a little dazed, lass.’ He moved closer but without touching her. ‘I’m not a man to let go of an idea once I’ve made up my mind.’ He half smiled. ‘You must know I’ve set myself up in business here, just as I planned.’

  Self-consciously she lifted a hand to her tangled hair, trying to tuck it back.

  ‘Don’t worry, you look beautiful.’ Mansel Jack spoke in a low voice, and when he reached out and touched her shoulder Rhian suppressed the impossible longing to throw herself into his arms.

  ‘And you’ve dealt with Alfred Phillpot, no doubt?’ She forced a lightness into her tone she was far from feeling and Mansel Jack allowed himself a smile.

  ‘That little matter didn’t take very long to sort out – he’s helping me with my contribution to the war effort.’ His eyes searched her face. ‘And what about you, is it true you’re courting one of the local boys?’

  Rhian took a deep breath, feeling the hot colour run into her face. She still felt a sense of unreality, though her eyes were drinking in every line of Mansel Jack’s face.

  ‘I think that’s my affair,’ she said, but her voice was soft.

  Mansel Jack smiled ruefully. ‘Aye, you’re quite right, I’ve no business to question you.’ There was a strangeness in his voice and Rhian glanced at him quickly.

  Before she could speak, Billy appeared at the top of the yard. ‘Rhian!’ his voice was loud and filled with concern and she glanced over her shoulder quickly, sensing her brother’s unease. Mansel Jack did not remove his hand from her shoulder, indeed his fingers tightened their hold but Rhian moved self-consciously away, sensing her brother’s misgivings.

  ‘Billy, this is Mansel Jack,’ she explained quickly. ‘I used to work for him in the woollen mills in Yorkshire, but now he’s running the munitions factory in Sweyn’s Eye.’ She didn’t look at Mansel Jack. ‘This is my brother.’

  Billy scrutinised Mansel Jack with unashamed curiosity. There was a stiffening of his shoulders that told Rhian he was not easy in the older man’s company.

  ‘A soldier newly enlisted, I’d guess?’ Mansel Jack’s voice held just the right amount of friendliness. ‘When are you off to the Front?’

  Billy could not conceal his pride. ‘I’m moving out with my battalion tomorrow, sir.’ It was clear that he recognised the authority in every line of Mansel Jack’s stance.

  ‘I envy you. I’d prefer to be an enlisted man rather than work at the factory any day.’

  ‘Every bit as important, sir,’ Billy said quickly, placatingly. ‘This war’s gone on for almost a year now – got to have more shells, haven’t we?’ Then he looked down at Rhian. ‘Bring Mr Mansel Jack indoors for a bite to eat, there’s a good girl.’ He smiled. ‘Not polite to keep a visitor standing out here in the chill wind, is it now?’

  Rhian moved towards the house, feeling on edge as though her nerves were pressing through her skin. She had seen how easily Mansel Jack had won Billy over; he was a past master at the game of charm and could coax the best from any man or woman and quell them just as quickly.

  In the warmth of the kitchen Gina was seated in the armchair, a baby on each arm. Her face was falling into lines of quiet composure, though it was clear from the lingering sadness in her eyes that she grieved for her husband.

  Mansel Jack seated himself in an upright chair, seeming at home in the small kitchen, holding his hands to the warm blaze that roared and sucked – throwing out heat, then drawing the flames up into the darkness of the chimney breast.

  Gina glanced at him briefly, but was forced to centre her attentions on Cerianne who had begun to grizzle.r />
  ‘This is Mrs Sinman,’ Rhian said. ‘She and her husband own Spinners’ Wharf.’ She was puzzled by the sudden intensity of Mansel Jack’s gaze. ‘Heinz is an Austrian,’ she explained. ‘He’s been taken away to an internment camp – and him loyal to the backbone.’

  Mansel Jack spoke evenly. ‘Don’t be too upset, Mrs Sinman, internees are treated very well in this country.’

  The silence seemed to stretch on endlessly and Billy picked up his cap and rubbed his sleeve against the bright badge. Gina moved the babies to a more comfortable position in her arms and it seemed that Mansel Jack was the only one completely at ease.

  ‘Can I get you some tea?’ Rhian asked, puzzled somewhat by his manner.

  ‘No, not for me, thank you.’ His voice was warm and vibrant. ‘But I would appreciate a few minutes’ private conversation with Mrs Sinman.’ He smiled at Gina. ‘If you can spare the time?’

  Rhian’s bewilderment increased and she sat perfectly still for a moment. It was Billy who, moving with alacrity, broke the uneasy silence which had fallen in the small kitchen.

  ‘Come on, girl, show me the mill.’ He smiled at Rhian and took Cerianne in his arms. ‘I’ve always wanted to know how the looms work.’

  Rhian marvelled at the way Mansel Jack always got exactly what he wanted. As she rose to her feet and followed Billy to the door, it was as though the charisma of the man reached out and touched her.

  ‘I wonder what he wants with Gina,’ Billy said, shifting Cerianne to a more comfortable position on his arm.

  Rhian shrugged, ‘There’s no telling, Mansel Jack isn’t one for confiding his business to anyone.’ She spoke offhandedly, but she had been wondering about it herself. She would not admit it, but she felt unhappy to be excluded from the warmth of the kitchen and was disappointed not to be allowed to listen to whatever it was he had to say – they were friends, weren’t they?

  She saw at once that Billy had no real interest in the mill and had merely been making a polite gesture. He stood staring up at the sky with Cerianne snuggling into his arms and Rhian could almost feel his pain; she knew instinctively he was thinking of Delmai.