by Iris Gower
‘What is it?’ she asked. ‘Have you quarrelled with your husband?’ Rosie knew the marriage had been faltering ever since Joe had installed his foreign mistress in the house in Neath. ‘We all have rows from time to time. It’s only human.’
She poured the tea. ‘Look, drink this. It will make you feel better.’
She sat at the table opposite Llinos. ‘Come, it might help to talk. Have you had bad news?’ Rosie did not want to pry but she felt instinctively that Llinos needed to confide in someone.
‘I’m pregnant.’
The words fell into the silence, and Rosie swallowed hard. From the look on Llinos’s face this was a tragedy and not an occasion for celebration.
‘Is that so bad?’ Rosie ventured. ‘I mean, it might bring you and Joe together again.’
‘The trouble is, Joe might not be the father.’
Rosie looked down into her cup, her mind was racing. ‘You mean you’ve had . . .?’ Her voice trailed into silence. She felt unable to say out loud what was patently obvious: that Llinos Mainwaring was having an affair.
‘I’ve been with another man, yes,’ Llinos said. ‘And, Rosie, I don’t even know what I want any more. Who I want, if it comes to that.’
Rosie was out of touch in her small house on the hill and scarcely saw anyone except Watt, and he was the last one to spread gossip about Llinos. She was silent. What could she say? She had no advice to offer. It had taken her years to make her own husband love her.
‘Are you shocked, Rosie?’ Llinos picked up her cup and sipped the tea, her eyes filled with tears.
Rosie saw her pain and knew that Llinos did not know which way to turn. ‘You can stay here for as long as you like,’ she said quickly. ‘You can have your baby here if you like. I’m used to caring for babies – I had plenty of experience with my brothers.’
Llinos wiped her eyes impatiently. ‘You’re so kind, Rosie, and I know crying won’t help but I feel so miserable.’ She hesitated. ‘Could I stay for just a few days?’
‘Of course you can.’ Rosie picked up the pan of bacon and eggs. ‘I’ll move this. When Mam was expecting she couldn’t bear to smell food in the mornings.’ She smiled. ‘Shall I just make you a piece of toast?’
‘I couldn’t eat anything,’ Llinos said.
‘Yes, you can. A piece of toast will get you started for the day. It’s no good starving yourself, not in your condition.’
Llinos’s smile was wan. ‘You are sweet, and very wise for your age, too, do you know that, Rosie?’
‘I’ve been through a lot myself. Nothing like bad times to make you appreciate other folk’s troubles.’ Rosie cut a thick slice of bread and stuck it on to the long-handled fork. She sat on the stool before the fire and held it close to the flames. ‘I’ve watched my mother die, I rushed into marriage and regretted it, and I nursed Alice, who I came to love as a sister, as she faded away in the prime of her life.’
‘And now I’m adding to your burden,’ Llinos said.
‘Not a bit of it!’ Rosie slid the toast on to a plate and dug a knife into the pat of butter. It melted as soon as it touched the hot bread and sank deliciously into it.
‘Here, eat some of this. I promise it will make you feel better.’ Rosie made several more pieces of toast and returned to her seat at the table. ‘It’s very nice to have a woman’s company,’ she said. ‘I hadn’t realized how isolated I’ve become, living up here on the hill like some old recluse.’
‘How are things between you and Watt now?’ Llinos asked.
‘They’re much better,’ Rosie said tentatively. ‘We’ve agreed to try again to make our marriage work.’ She blushed. ‘If I’m lucky, I might be in the same condition as you before too long.’
‘Oh, Rosie, I’m so happy for you,’ Llinos said softly. ‘Watt is a proud, stiff-necked man but he does love you, I know he does. He’s told me often enough.’
‘I’m doing my best to believe that.’ Rosie brought her chair closer to the table. ‘But what about you? Do you want to talk about what’s happened?’
Llinos put down her cup. ‘I don’t really know what’s hit me,’ she said. ‘I met a man, younger than me, not married, and I’m besotted with him. I want to be with him all the time.’
‘But?’
‘But I think I still love Joe. I’m crazy, aren’t I?’
Rosie had no glib reply. She had only ever loved Watt. ‘No, you’re not. You’re only doing what men have always done, including your Joe.’
‘Maybe so, but I know what I’m doing is wrong, immoral, sinful, all the things the preachers warn us against, but I can’t help it.’
‘So what happened last night to make you come up here to me?’ Rosie asked. ‘Not that you aren’t welcome, mind.’
‘I was in his house. He had brought home company, Madame Isabelle and Shanni Price, the young girl I took in. Well, the atmosphere was strained and things got out of hand. Anyway, it ended with a scene and I had to get away from there. What can I do now, Rosie?’
‘Your life is your own, Llinos,’ Rosie said softly. ‘No-one can tell you what to do with it. The only thing you can think of now is what’s best for the baby you’re expecting.’
Llinos rubbed her eyes tiredly. ‘I know you’re right but I can’t seem to think straight, not just now.’
‘Well, stay here a few days, longer if you want, just until you sort yourself out. By the look of you, you need a good rest.’
‘I feel as if I could sleep for a week. Thank you, Rosie, I will stay for a while, if you really don’t mind.’
‘It’s decided, then,’ Rosie said. ‘Now, today I’m going to the market in Swansea. How about if I take messages to your . . . well, to whoever you want?’
‘Tell Lloyd he mustn’t worry about me, but don’t tell him where I am,’ Llinos said. ‘As for Joe and Dafydd, let them both stew for a while.’
She took a sip of her tea and Rosie held out the pot to refill the cups. ‘When I’m out you just rest and enjoy the peace.’
‘It is peaceful here,’ Llinos said, ‘not even a maid about the place. What’s happened to the girl you had in to help?’
‘She’s gone home for a few days to look after her mother but I don’t mind, really. It’s good to manage my own little house, to bake when I want to and to sit in the sun without anyone standing over me. Now, take my advice and while I’m out just rest. Will you promise to do that, Llinos?’
‘I promise I’ll be good.’ Llinos smiled. ‘And, Rosie, I’m so grateful to you.’ She looked down at her crumpled dress. ‘Do you think you could bring me some clothes from Pottery Row? I know it will be awkward for you, but I haven’t brought anything with me.’
Rosie picked up her shawl – the winds could be fierce here on the hill. She hesitated in the doorway. ‘Are you sure you are going to be all right? I won’t be too long anyway.’
‘Go on, Rosie. Have a good day out, and put any shopping on my account.’
Rosie smiled. ‘I’m not short of money, thanks to Alice. Now, if you’re sure you’ll be all right I’ll be on my way.’
Rosie left the house and stood for a moment at the gate looking back. Llinos appeared in the window and Rosie waved before turning into the lane.
What a dilemma! A lady like Llinos Mainwaring expecting and not knowing who the father was. It was almost unbelievable. Still, whatever anyone else thought, Llinos was a good woman. Watt had always loved her, she was like the family he never had, and what was good enough for her husband was good enough for Rosie.
When Rosie had left, Llinos sank into a chair and listened to the birdsong outside. Through the open window a soft breeze brought in the scent of roses, and Llinos closed her eyes, revelling in the peace. It was so good to be alone: she never seemed to have any time to herself any more.
It seemed only a short while ago that she had little to keep her occupied, but since she had met Dafydd all that had changed. Now, why did she have to go and think of Dafydd? She should close her mind t
o everything, just do what Rosie suggested and rest. She tried to relax but there was a restlessness inside her, a feeling that she would lose everything she loved if she did not act soon.
Llinos stacked the breakfast dishes and decided to wash them, anything to keep her mind from going over the same ground. She found a bowl in the pantry; the enamel was somewhat chipped but it would do.
In the garden, the sun was hot on her face; Llinos breathed in the silence of the countryside. This was a beautiful spot. Behind Rosie’s cottage, the hills rolled away into the distance, and below her, to the south, Llinos could see the sparkling waves gently lapping the shore. There was a spring just outside the garden fence and Llinos used the bowl to scoop up some water, which gushed cold and refreshing over her wrists. Up in the trees a blackbird began to sing, the sweet notes carrying on the soft air. To Llinos, who was used to the bustle of Pottery Row, the place seemed like Paradise.
In the kitchen, she poured hot water from the kettle into the bowl to heat the spring water and slowly, enjoying the task, she washed the breakfast dishes.
Perhaps she should buy or rent a small house in the country and have her baby there alone. Well, not completely alone, that would be impractical, but she could well afford a maid and a cook, and a midwife to deliver the baby when her time came.
Suddenly Llinos felt tired. She was getting old, especially to be carrying a child, so it might be a good idea to lie down for a while.
It was warm in her room, the polished wooden floors splashed with sunlight. She kicked off her shoes and stretched out on the bed, closing her eyes. She would keep her confused feelings at bay at least for the moment. She slept.
She woke to a sound in the kitchen and sat up, bewildered by the unfamiliarity of her surroundings. Then she remembered where she was, and the reason why she was here in Rosie’s house. Depression swept over her. She wanted Dafydd, wanted to be in his arms, to look into his eyes and hear him tell her how much he loved her.
The sounds downstairs were repeated, and Llinos realized she had been sleeping quite a while. Rosie must have come back from town ages ago.
She slid off the bed and stood at the washstand, splashing water into her sleepy eyes. The sun was still hot, the room filled with brightness.
Llinos patted her hair and smiled wryly at her own foolishness. Here she was in a crumpled dress and she was attempting to make herself look neat. It was ridiculous. Who was she going to see? No-one, except Rosie.
She made her way carefully down the small twisting staircase into the hallway. ‘Rosie, I’m sorry I’ve been asleep and I . . .’ Her words trailed away as she saw a man standing with his back to the sunlight. She recognized him at once but for a long moment she could not speak.
‘Dafydd, what are you doing here?’ she said at last, her voice thin with shock.
‘Llinos, my lovely!’ He took her into his arms holding her close to him murmuring sweet words into her ear. ‘How could I live without you, my darling?’
He embraced her, kissing her eyes, her cheeks, her mouth. She held him away and stared up at him, her heart thumping. ‘Dafydd, how did you know where to find me?’
His reply was indistinct. She felt his tears against her face and her heart swelled with love for him. She clung to him kissing him eagerly. He had come to find her and to take her home. ‘Tell me, Dafydd, how did you know I was here?’ Her voice trembled.
‘I went up to Pottery Row looking for you,’ he said. ‘I saw Watt and he told me you were staying in Rosie Bevan’s house.’
Dafydd drew her close again, and she closed her eyes, thankful he had come for her. It was not her husband who had found her, she thought bitterly, but her lover.
‘I want to take you home,’ Dafydd said. ‘Please say you’ll come with me. I can’t bear to be without you, not for another moment.’
‘What about Isabelle? Is she still angry with you?’
‘Never mind Isabelle or anyone else. We are talking about our own future. We are not accountable to anyone.’
‘We’ll have to wait for Rosie,’ Llinos said. ‘We must tell her where I’m going, otherwise she’ll be worried.’
‘No, she won’t.’ Dafydd smiled. ‘Don’t be angry, but Rosie was up at the pottery talking to Watt. She’s told me about the baby, Llinos! My darling girl, how could you keep it from me? Didn’t you know I’d be thrilled about it? A baby is the best gift you could give me.’
‘Rosie told you?’ Llinos felt alarmed. What else had Rosie said?
‘She meant it for the best. She said you needed me now more than ever. Oh, my love, I never believed I could be so happy.’
She looked up at him, trying to find the words to tell him the baby might not be his. She opened her mouth to speak but the clatter of hoofs on the sun-baked ground outside stopped her. Rosie had returned.
‘Oh, Llinos, have I done the right thing?’ Rosie hurried into the house. ‘I’m sorry, my tongue just got caught up in my words. I never was much good at lying.’
‘It’s all right, Rosie, but what else have you said?’
Rosie met her eyes. ‘I just blurted out about the baby and then I realized I had already said too much so I stopped.’ Rosie looked anxious. ‘Please don’t think I want you to leave. You can stay here as long as you like.’
‘It’s all right.’ Llinos felt a sense of relief. If Dafydd was to be told the truth, all of it, it would be better coming from her own lips.
‘Thank you for your kindness,’ Dafydd said, ‘but I’m taking Llinos home, Rosie.’
Rosie’s eyebrows rose questioningly. ‘As I said, if Llinos wants to stay, she’s very welcome.’
‘Rosie,’ Llinos hugged her, ‘thank you for all you’ve done, for putting up with me at such short notice. But you and Watt need time to yourselves, and Dafydd and I need to talk.’
‘I suppose it’s for the best, then,’ Rosie said, ‘but my door is always open to you, Llinos, never forget that.’
Dafydd took Llinos’s hand, and as they stepped out into the sunshine she looked up at the blue bowl of the sky and sent up a silent prayer. ‘Please, dear Lord, show me what I must do.’
Dafydd helped her into the carriage. ‘Come, Llinos, tell me everything. When did you find out you were expecting and how long will it be before our baby is born?’
Llinos looked out of the open carriage and stared down at the sea sparkling below. ‘The doctor thinks I’m three months gone, so the baby should be born early in spring.’
‘We must think of some good Welsh names for our child. What do you think it will be? A son or a daughter?’ Dafydd was as excited as a child himself. How could she break his heart by telling him the truth?
She leaned against his shoulder. ‘I don’t know, Dafydd. I’m just happy that I’m with child.’ She suppressed a sigh. Now the thought of her baby was the only certainty in her life. All else was confusion.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
JOE SAT AMONG the sand dunes and stared out at the wide expanse of sea along the curve of Swansea Bay. Over the Mumbles Head storm-clouds were gathering. The air was heavy – there would be thunder tonight, if he was any judge.
The atmosphere around him echoed the feelings within him. Llinos had left him and there was nothing for him in Swansea, not now. His bag was at his side, he was ready to return to the Marches, but he had stopped to linger near the sea he had grown to love.
The small country of Wales was so different from his homeland. He had been born near the shores of a wide river, his mother had taught him the American-Indian folklore and his father had educated him as an English gentleman. Now he felt rootless, as if there was no place on earth where he truly belonged.
Joe rubbed his eyes tiredly. Llinos, his firebird, had made her decision. She had run to Dafydd Buchan and there was nothing Joe could do about it.
‘Father?’
Lloyd had come up silently behind him and Joe smiled. ‘You’re walking in the footsteps of your father, such silent footsteps. I didn’t kno
w you were there.’
‘I’m like you in many ways, Father, and I’m proud of that.’ Lloyd sat in the sand beside him.
‘I’m proud too, son.’ Joe looked at Lloyd. He was a fine young man, handsome and strong with the fire of his mother in his belly. ‘I’ve always loved your mother, you know,’ Joe said, ‘but I can’t blame her leaving me for another man, can I?’
Lloyd picked at a stalk of tough sand grass and chewed it. ‘Don’t you see into your own future? Surely you know, as you always do, what’s going to happen to Mother and that man.’
‘I can’t trust my instincts now,’ Joe said. ‘I was wrong about Sho Ka and the child. I might be wrong about everything else.’
Lloyd sighed. ‘I don’t know what to say, Father. I do know I’m worried about you. It’s not like you to be beaten.’
‘I’m helpless, Lloyd, I can’t do anything until your mother realizes that Buchan is not the man for her.’
‘Isn’t it strange,’ Lloyd said slowly, ‘that infidelity in a man is accepted but an unfaithful wife is called a harlot?’
Joe shrugged. ‘It’s just the way of the world, son. I suppose part of it is that a man needs to know that the children his wife bears are his.’
‘I find it all so strange,’ Lloyd said, ‘that this thing called love can build or destroy. Is that what the good Lord intended?’
‘No-one can answer that, son. All we know for sure is we’re born, we love and we die,’ Joe said. ‘Our lives should be simple but they seldom are.’
They sat in silence for a while. The soft sea breeze came in on the lapping tide. The smell of salt air and the rustle of shells as they tumbled in the waves seemed like music to Joe, haunting, painful music.
‘What are you going to do now, Father?’ Lloyd rested his hand on Joe’s shoulder. ‘I see you have your bag packed.’