Sea Mistress

by Iris Gower

  He had never enjoyed his role as second in command to Bridie; to be accepted in society only because he was her husband had been a blow to his ego. Well now he was in charge of his own destiny and everyone would have to learn their place.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said calmly, ‘it appears I am unable to help you.’ He rose to his feet indicating the interview was at an end. Ellie rose too but she looked at him levelly, her eyes open and clear and for a moment, Paul felt uneasy.

  ‘He’s dangerous, make no mistake about it, Matthew Hewson is not to be trusted. He’ll turn on you when it suits him. He thinks only of himself, so I’d advise you to watch your back when he’s around.’

  ‘It’s you must watch your back, Mrs Hopkins,’ Paul said quickly, a little too quickly.

  She shook her head. ‘I’ll tell you one thing, if Matthew pushes me too hard I’ll go the authorities, I don’t care what the consequences might be, I won’t be blackmailed by someone like him. And have you thought of what would happen to you if I did that? Action would have to be taken. Everything about your business would be scrutinized, I don’t think you would like that one bit.’

  For a moment Paul was uneasy but he forced a smile. ‘I would claim I had no knowledge of any illicit dealings,’ he said loudly. ‘It was my wife’s ships which brought in the contraband from abroad, I’d say that was the reason we separated.’ He smiled more easily now, he was still on top of everything. ‘I’d say I hadn’t the heart to turn my wife, my poor sick wife, over to the Customs and Excise men but that on the other hand, I couldn’t live with what she’d done.’ He leaned forward and stared hard at Ellie and she flinched visibly. ‘And if I did go down, believe me I’d drag a lot of other people with me.’

  He knew she was convinced, he saw it by the set of her face and the sudden drawing in of her breath. For a moment he felt almost sorry for her. ‘One word of advice, Mrs Hopkins,’ he said more quietly, ‘keep Matthew happy, give him what he wants, it might save you a great deal of grief in the long run.’

  The next morning, he called in to the office to pick up some papers he needed and as Brian Thomas was not yet in, he poured over the books just to reassure himself that his profits were increasing. After a time, he took his hat and coat from the stand, he had no intention of remaining all day in the office. In any case, Brian Thomas would be back any time now, he could look after things, that was what he was being paid for.

  Now it was time for Paul to see Hewson, give him the sharp edge of his tongue. Tell him he knew Hewson was greedy, couldn’t keep his trap shut. Warn him to ease up a little on the Widow Hopkins, pushing too hard might only serve to crack her and then she would go whining to the police.

  Paul went first to the drab but respectable boarding house where Hewson was staying, the man had some sense, he didn’t make a show of the money he’d suddenly acquired. On the other hand, the lady who owned the place was not unattractive, a little on the full-blown side, her features rather heavy, but Mrs Griffiths was passable and Matthew was doubtless paying some of his rent, at least, in kind.

  ‘Duw, not here, not Mat, not this time of the day, you’ll find him in the public bar of the Castle if I’m any judge, don’t know when he’s going to find a decent job.’

  She was talking like a wife already, Paul observed, they were all the same, give them an inch and they took a mile. Well, no, not all of them, not his little Carmella, she was different. A glow of satisfaction spread through him, he’d go to the Castle, have a word with Matthew and then go home and take Carmella to bed. What was the use of having plenty of money if he didn’t do what he wanted with his time?

  The bar was crowded, smoke-filled and in the corner a ragged, vociferous group of men were playing cards. The floor was covered in sawdust and the furniture comprised of old beer barrels sawn in half and upturned. Paul spotted Matthew at once, he was a big man, handsome too if you cared for the rugged type. And yet the man was no dullard. He was quite literate and particularly articulate which was one reason Paul had decided to use him. But he needed putting in his place, reminding who was boss.

  ‘Afternoon,’ Paul stood beside Matthew, Paul the shorter by almost six inches but with the whip hand for all that.

  ‘Afternoon, Marchant.’ Paul was not thrilled with the over-familiar tone of the man’s voice but in the circumstances he could hardly protest. For a moment he wondered if by getting rid of Charlesworth and taking on Matthew he’d only substituted one problem for another.

  ‘We need to talk. Get me a mug of ale.’ Paul moved to a chair near the window where it was fairly quiet. He hadn’t missed Hewson’s rather indignant raising of the eyebrows at his tone but right at this moment, he didn’t care.

  ‘Anything wrong?’ Matthew thumped the mug of ale on the table spilling some of it but Paul ignored the man’s obvious ill humour.

  ‘Could be,’ he said. ‘The Widow Hopkins has been to see me, a little irate she was, too.’ He paused to allow his words to sink in and Matthew, for a moment, looked suitably uneasy.

  ‘What’s the bitch been saying?’ He sat and hunched his big frame forward on the upturned barrel.

  ‘That you opened your big mouth.’ Paul went on the attack. ‘You must bite your tongue in future, I don’t like you slinging mud at my good name, it might just stick.’

  Hewson was silent and Paul relaxed in his chair. ‘On the other hand, I don’t see why we shouldn’t make use of the little lady.’

  ‘We?’ Matthew appeared genuinely surprised. ‘What’s it got to do with you?’

  ‘I paid you good money to keep quiet, that’s what,’ Paul said with emphasis. ‘You couldn’t keep your mouth shut but perhaps there’s no harm done just so long as you remember we are in this together.’ He took a sip of his ale, it was good and strong, tasting of the wood in which it had been stored. ‘Keep her involved in our future enterprises, make her part of it so that she can’t wriggle off the hook. Soon, she’ll be in so deep she won’t be able to get out.’

  ‘I doubt she’ll supply us with any more leather,’ Hewson said sourly, ‘and there’s no way we can force her into selling her stock if she doesn’t want to.’

  ‘I have already bought more stock,’ Paul said easily, ‘this new manager Mrs Hopkins has taken on, Smithers, he and I go back a long way. He’ll go on providing the leather for as long as I need it.’ Paul did not see any point in adding that it had been a stroke of pure luck he knew Smithers, let Hewson believe Paul had had everything under control from the beginning.

  Paul saw Hewson’s guarded look of admiration and it made him feel good. ‘The wagons from Glyn Hir have already delivered a fresh load of skins to the saddler, I don’t waste any time putting my plans into action, you see.’ Paul paused, savouring his own cleverness. ‘Smithers realizes how well he’ll be paid if he does what I say. I’ve taken the trouble to grease his pockets, soon we’ll have Mrs Hopkins so tied up that she won’t be able to threaten us with anything.’

  He was aware that Matthew was looking at him with respect and he smiled. ‘If you play this game properly,’ he said slowly, meaningfully, ‘there’s no reason why we both shouldn’t make a fine profit.’

  Matthew wasn’t stupid, he was being told that he was a bit player in the game, Paul was the star. It was a role Matthew Hewson seemed able to accept and Paul felt a sense of triumph. ‘So long as we both know where we stand, we shall get along fine.’

  ‘Poor Charlesworth,’ he added seemingly without reason. ‘Didn’t know when he was well off.’ Matthew would know what he was saying all right, Paul had rid himself of one thorn in his flesh, he was capable of doing it again.

  Out in the street once more, Paul breathed deeply of the fresh winter air. The clouds lay low over the hill tops, obscuring the peaks, wreathing them in greyness. The sea, running swiftly into the shore was pewter, cold looking, even the white caps appeared to be touched with ice. Well, winter might be holding the town in an icy thrall but Paul felt nothing could spoil his sense of well being.
At last, he was his own boss, he answered to no-one, indeed, folk jumped when he told them to jump.

  He sighed in self-satisfaction and lifted his hand to hail the cab that was standing idle in the gutter, the horse, head down, moving restlessly between the shafts as though eager to move away from the hard cobbles. Soon, Paul thought as he settled back in the cold leather seat, soon he would be home in the big, comfortable house that was now his, and very soon, he would be in bed with Carmella making sweet love to her, it was a good life.

  Ellie returned home feeling drained and helpless, it seemed there was nothing she could do to rid herself of Matthew’s unwanted attentions. She knew he would take everything he could from her, even her dignity if she would allow him. He would impose himself upon her physically if he could, simply to teach her that he had the upper hand. Well, she would kill herself rather than let him touch her.

  Smithers was in the yard, overseeing the loading of the wagons with the heavy skins. The manager was no youngster, his hair was greying at the temples and he had a thick body and short neck so that his head seemed sunken onto his shoulders. But his references had been good, he had spoken simply and honestly at the interview, he was strong and had a determined thrust to his chin and Ellie had been happy to take him on.

  ‘Everything under control?’ Ellie asked pausing by the waggons, rubbing the soft head of one of the horses.

  ‘Aye, missus, everything is under control.’ His tone was clipped and she nodded and moved on, she didn’t want to interfere, she was paying him to take charge and that was just what Smithers was doing.

  ‘Well, where have you been?’ Martha was sitting near the fire looking up from her sewing, her face was tinged with red, a sign that she was displeased.

  ‘I’ve been to see Paul Marchant if you must know,’ Ellie said lightly, ‘I know I should have asked you to come but you were having a little doze and I didn’t like to disturb you.’

  ‘I wasn’t asleep!’ Martha said quickly. ‘I was just resting my eyes. Anyway, what’s it all about?’

  ‘Just business.’ Ellie had no intention of involving Martha in what was, to say the least, an unsavoury situation.

  ‘Well I would have liked a walk in the fresh air.’ Martha grumbled but her tone had softened, she could not be angry with Ellie for long.

  ‘When you were out, guess who called?’ she said, her eyes glinting.

  Ellie’s heart lifted. ‘Don’t say Daniel’s been here and I’ve missed him?’

  ‘Aye, Daniel has been here and you have missed him and it serves you right for not telling me where you were going because he would have come to look for you.’

  Ellie felt uneasy, if Dan was searching for her it could only mean one thing that he was going away to college and soon. Well, there was nothing she could do, she could hardly go chasing after him, it wouldn’t be proper to go to his parents’ home, not until she and Dan were officially engaged. She certainly didn’t feel she could look for him in the offices of The Swansea Times, that would certainly set tongues wagging. There was nothing she could do but wait for him to call again.

  She sighed and Martha smiled mischievously. ‘It’s all right, he’s going to call again this evening,’ she said relenting.

  Ellie shook his head, ‘You heartless woman, you had me worried there for a minute, I thought he might have gone away without seeing me.’

  ‘No,’ Martha said soberly, ‘he wouldn’t do that, not Daniel, he loves you too much. Anyone ever tell you you’re a lucky woman Ellie Hopkins?’

  While she was getting ready for Daniel’s visit, Ellie was able to forget, for a while, the business of Matthew Hewson and his threats. She wanted so much to be with Dan, to be close to him. He was a fine man, all she could wish for in a husband, though that happy state of affairs was still very far away. In the meantime, he would work hard as a vicar, he was the kind of man who needed to follow what he looked on as his vocation but she knew once he had left for college, she would only be able to see him occasionally. She would miss him so much.

  When he arrived, Ellie had to force herself to sit still while Rosie showed him into the sitting room. It was bright now with a fire glowing in the hearth and the curtains drawn against the cold. Daniel came across to Ellie and took her hand in his. She smiled up at him, his scent was of the cold, fresh air, the sea, the pine of the trees, she breathed him in, loving him so much.

  After a few moments, Martha made an excuse to leave them alone and Daniel moved closer to Ellie on the huge, cushioned sofa.

  ‘Ellie, I’ll be leaving for the college on Monday,’ he said softly. ‘Don’t look so distraught, Lampeter isn’t all that far away and I’ll write every day. Promise me you will, too.’

  ‘Oh, Daniel, of course I’ll write to you. Will you be happy there, at the college, I mean?’

  ‘I’m very lucky to get in there, I will be older than most of the other students, you see,’ he smiled, ‘though at least I have a grounding in some of the subjects we’ll be studying so I won’t be at too much of a disadvantage.’

  ‘How long will it take, before you are a priest, I mean?’ Ellie asked, fearful at the thought of being separated from him.

  ‘A few years, I suppose. But don’t let’s talk about my leaving, I’m here now, with you.’

  He drew her gently towards him, looking down at her, as though drinking in the very essence of her. She closed her eyes, knowing he was going to kiss her. Her heart fluttered within her as though she was a silly girl who had never known the touch of a man. How she wished that was true, she regretted so much that she hadn’t been able to offer herself to Daniel as a pure and innocent wife.

  His mouth touched hers softly at first and then his kiss became deeper, more searching. His arms closed around her and she held onto him, her head spinning, her senses alive in a way she had never experienced before. The kiss seemed to go on for ever, it was as though they could never be closer than they were at this moment, no intimacy could be greater than this unspoken promise between them.

  When at last he released her, Ellie had tears in her eyes. She touched Daniel’s cheek with her fingertips. ‘My love,’ she whispered, ‘my own love.’ He would have taken her into his arms again but with an unnecessary amount of fuss and bustle, Martha was returning to the room, in her arm a snowy cloth, a sewing needle between her teeth. Daniel still held onto Ellie’s hands, as though he couldn’t bear to be separated from her. Martha turned away from them, pretending she needed the light from the lamp for her task.

  Ellie smiled. ‘It’s all right, Martha, you’re not intruding, come on, talk to us, we know you find it difficult to keep a still tongue in your head.’

  ‘Cheek!’ Martha said but she was smiling. ‘I sometimes feel that being a chaperon is a harder job than folk think. Talk about being in the way.’ She shrugged, ‘But at least no-one can talk about you two, not while I’m around.’ Ellie knew to whom Martha was referring, Rosie was a good worker but loved to gossip.

  Daniel rose and walked across the room and stared out into the darkness. Ellie, watching him felt herself melt with tenderness, he was so young, so untried that for a moment she feared for him. Still, she told herself, he would be safe in college, he would be with like-minded men. She bit her lip, Daniel would have no defence against a man like Matthew Hewson, she must make sure that nothing ever happened to bring about a confrontation between them. She had been tempted to tell Daniel about the contraband smuggling, ask his advice, but now she thought better of it, she must protect him while she could from men who had no scruples, men like Matthew Hewson and Paul Marchant.

  Matthew stretched a lazy arm outside the bedclothes and took up the unfinished glass of whisky, allowing the burning, amber liquid to slip along his throat. At his side, Dora Griffiths lay with her eyes closed, a sated look on her round features. She might not be all that much of a looker but she certainly knew how to please a man.

  After a while, she sighed and opened her eyes, staring up at the cracked ceiling
of his room. ‘That was lovely, Mat,’ she said softly, ‘I enjoyed every minute of it.’

  ‘I know,’ Matthew said smugly, still it was good to hear a woman say it, a man needed to be told he’d proved himself.

  Dora turned over towards him, her arm brushing his chest. ‘A man came looking for you the other day,’ she said, ‘forgot to tell you. Posh geezer, he was, good line to his clothes but a manner you could cut with a knife. I told him you’d be down the Castle, was that all right?’

  ‘Aye, I saw him,’ Matthew said and he took another swig at the whisky, draining the glass. He hadn’t been too pleased by Marchant’s high-handed attitude, who did he think he was? He might be paying Matthew a good screw but then Matthew had him by his balls, he could drop him in trouble right up to his snooty nose if he chose.

  ‘Get me some more whisky, girl,’ he said and, obediently, Dora slid out of bed and padded naked across the room. He watched her, her hips and buttocks were a little rounded for some tastes but when she turned to come back to the bed, he saw her magnificent breasts, nipples hard in the cold and he forgot his momentary bad humour.

  ‘Come here,’ he said hoarsely, ‘let’s get back to business, shall we?’

  Afterwards, Dora bade the serving girl to bring up jugs full of hot water for him to bathe, she knew how to look after a man and Matthew felt he could do far worse than stay where he was, at least for the time being. It was still early evening and he was restless, perhaps it was time he went to visit little Ellie Hopkins again, put a bit of pressure on her, got her to hand over some money. To hell with what Paul Marchant advised, he’d told him to lay off, go easy on the girl, perhaps he wanted to bed her, Paul Marchant was as susceptible as Matthew himself when it came to a pretty woman.