by Iris Gower
With a last desperate glance towards the still figure in the bed, Arian left the ward and followed the nurse along a maze of corridors. Her head had begun to ache, she felt sick with fear and remorse, she had virtually deserted Gerald these past months and his words echoed in her mind, his threat that he would return after death to haunt her. What if he could reach her from beyond the grave? But that was absurd, she was being morbidly fanciful, influenced by the dreadful atmosphere of the hospital.
‘Eddie,’ she went gratefully into the light, airy office where Eddie Carpenter was sitting behind a cluttered desk and, leaning over, took his hands in hers. ‘Eddie, is he going to die?’
‘Sit down, Arian. Would you leave us alone, nurse?’ The girl rustled away and Arian sank into a chair facing across the desk.
‘I don’t think he has very much longer,’ Eddie said evenly. He leaned forward and his eyes were suddenly brimming. ‘I know I hated the man, still do, for what he did to my daughter but by God he’s had his punishment in full.’ He bent his head to hide his grief and Arian thought of his daughter, beautiful, young, besotted by Gerald, her life snuffed out by him.
‘Eddie, Gerald will haunt us all all our lives, he’s right about that, we’ll never be able to forget the evil he’s done.’
‘Even while I’ve hated him, I’ve treated him to the best of my ability.’ Eddie straightened and looked at her, clear-eyed now. ‘His madness seemed to be intermittent but the last weeks, he’s been worse than ever, his fury, his madness, has burnt him out. This is why I waited until now to send for you, I wanted to spare you as much pain as possible.’
‘I know.’ Arian spoke quietly. ‘I feel so guilty, Eddie, I’ve been getting on with my life, being happy and fulfilled and I’ve neglected Gerald badly.’
‘There was nothing you could have done even if you’d been here every day.’ Eddie’s words comforted her a little. ‘And don’t lose sight of the fact that the man was never any good to you, you must not allow yourself to feel guilty.’
Arian was silent for a moment and then she asked a question, dreading the answer. ‘Should I stay?’ Relief flooded through her as Eddie shook his head. ‘No point, I’ll be giving him some medication in a minute, he’d sleep then, peacefully, perhaps.’ He paused. ‘There will be matters to discuss, however painful they might be, the funeral arrangements to be made, I’m sorry but it has to be done.’
Arian shuddered. ‘Will you let me know when . . . it sounds so callous to say it but you know what I mean.’
‘I’ll let you know,’ Eddie said rising to his feet. ‘Now go home, put it out of your mind for now. The end will come soon enough and then you can get on with the rest of your life.’
‘And you, Eddie?’
He smiled grimly. ‘I should be thanking God for what I have left, my loyal wife, my career, my friends. But I can’t forget my first born daughter and the day she died in some hotel room like a common whore.’ He rubbed his eyes. ‘It’s marked me, Arian, it’s a nightmare I must live with for the rest of my life.’
Impulsively, Arian went to him and held him close, her head against his chest. Once they had been lovers, long ago, one summertime, now they were just two people joined by mutual misery.
When she was back in town, Arian went directly to her rooms, she couldn’t face the bustle of the office. Gone was her euphoria of the morning, gone was the sense of achievement, the wonder at the way she had made a success of her life against all the odds. Instead, she felt her senses were blunted. The smell of the hospital seemed to be in the very folds of her clothes and she took them off and pushed them into a basket ready to be washed.
Once she had bathed and was dressed in a clean skirt and blouse, she felt better. She had the maid bring her some hot coffee and she leaned back in an easy chair, her feet stretched out towards the fire and tried to regain her equilibrium.
A knocking on the door roused her and she called ‘Come in,’ automatically. She had hoped it was Calvin, Calvin who would take her in his arms and erase all the bad memories. It was Mac, his eyes alight in a way that could only mean one thing. ‘You’ve got a story.’ It was a statement. He dropped his long frame into a chair and allowed himself a smile.
‘Have I got a story!’ He stared at her waiting for some reaction and she searched her mind frantically for a clue as to what he had been working on.
‘Tell me,’ she said at last.
‘Not only has Paul Marchant disappeared in very suspicious circumstances indeed but it appears that the man might have been involved in some sort of smuggling racket.’
Arian leaned forward interested in spite of herself, her apathy vanishing. ‘How did you find out all this?’ she asked in surprise. ‘You haven’t skipped over to Ireland and back by some sort of magic carpet have you?’
‘Didn’t have to, just spoke to a sailor off the Marie Clare, one Matthew Hewson.’
Arian frowned. ‘We’d better keep this quiet for the moment, just until we know more about the situation. We don’t want to be accused of scandalmongering, not until we have more than this man’s word to go on, after all Matthew Hewson isn’t exactly famed for his honesty is he? Still, well done, I always knew you were a gifted reporter Mac, but I certainly didn’t realize you could do my job better than me.’ She frowned suddenly. ‘What about Bridie, how is she taking all this?’
‘Mrs Marchant does not seem unduly upset that her husband is not in Swansea with her. What she did tell me was that shortly she will be selling up her extravagant house and moving somewhere quiet. It seems she has got her fortune back in her own hands, somehow.’
Arian shook her head. ‘The mystery deepens. I don’t know how you do it, Mac, but I’m so glad you belong to The Times and not to any other newspaper.’
‘You are very lucky to have me, Arian Smale.’ He pinched her cheek. ‘Now, how about you telling me what’s happened to make you unhappy.’
‘You are perceptive on top of all the other talents,’ Arian said softly. She moved to the window and stared unseeingly into the street far below. ‘It’s Gerald,’ she said, ‘he’s dying.’
‘You’ll pardon me if I say that’s good news.’ Mac’s hands were suddenly on her shoulder. He turned her to face him and looked down at her with a stern expression. ‘You’ve done your best in that quarter,’ he said, ‘and don’t forget it.’
She shrugged hopelessly. ‘What have I done but begrudge him every visit I’ve ever made to that place?’ She paused. ‘I haven’t even done very much of that lately.’
‘You’ve paid for him to have the best attention, remember? You could have abandoned him to his own fate. After all the evil that man did, anyone would have forgiven you for turning your back on him. He deserved to spend the rest of his natural life in a mad house.’
Arian sighed heavily. ‘At least if he dies he’ll be at peace at last.’
‘That’s a good thought,’ Mac said, ‘hold on to it.’
When Mac left the room, Arian remained where she was, staring down into the grey, wet street. She didn’t know what she should feel, remorse, regrets, what? She searched within herself and all she knew was that there was a deep gratitude that her obligation to a man she hated was almost over.
Matthew Hewson had never been so glad to be walking the streets of Swansea even in the dank, winter weather and mists that pervaded the town. He had escaped from Monkton by the skin of his teeth, Marchant had not been so lucky, he’d been detained on board until the shipment of opium was delivered. Bridie Marchant had been very clever, perhaps how clever she didn’t even realize herself. And where did it all leave him? He was back in Swansea, safe from Monkton’s wrath but his pockets were empty except for the paltry few shillings that reporter chap had given him. Still, he hadn’t revealed too much of his story, he reasoned the information might come in handy later.
He thrust his hands into his pockets, he wasn’t sure just how much Bridie Marchant had found out about the illegal trade in opium and his own part in the t
ransactions. He was a little afraid of Bridie Marchant, she was a strong, perhaps a ruthless, woman. She had turned the tables on her husband with very little trouble, she might just be too clever for Matthew. The only option left to him was to tackle Ellie Hopkins. He knew he could make her feel guilty, make her feel she owed him something and so she did, he thought bitterly.
With renewed sense of purpose, he turned towards the outskirts of the town in the direction of Glyn Hir Tannery. He felt unaccountably nervous, unsure of his reception.
It was Rosie who answered the door to his insistent knocking. She looked at him without emotion and he deliberately smiled at her, trying to charm her. ‘You’re looking more lovely than ever, Rosie, a real treat for these jaded eyes of mine.’
‘Wait here.’ Obviously, his charm no longer had any effect on her. He thrust his hands into his pockets feeling let down, betrayed almost, how fickle women were, all over a man one minute and the next as cold as ice.
Eventually Rosie returned and Matthew was shown into the kitchen. He stood there feeling awkward, waiting for Ellie to put in an appearance. She entered the room so quietly, he scarcely heard her and she looked at him with expressionless eyes. ‘What do you want, Matthew?’ she asked without preamble.
‘What do you think?’ He might as well be as blunt as she was, he decided. ‘I want some money. If I can’t have the shares I’m due then I’ll take hard cash instead.’
‘You are joking with me, aren’t you, Matthew?’
‘But you said you’d pay me, that time . . .’ his voice trailed away.
‘That time Daniel gave you a hiding you mean?’ Ellie said dryly. ‘Well that was to prevent you fighting and it didn’t work. You should have taken the money when you had the chance. Now it’s too late.’
He moved a step nearer her. ‘I could go to the police, tell them about your dealings with a certain drug smuggling racket. Don’t think it would be my word only, Smithers would back me up.’
‘Smithers?’ Ah, he had shaken her confidence now. He looked at her with scorn in his eyes.
‘Aye, Smithers, he was working for us, for me and Paul Marchant, he kept us informed of what was happening. More than that, he continued to supply the leather we required.’
‘Then he wasn’t very good at his job, was he?’ Ellie’s voice had taken on a hard note.
‘Never mind all that,’ Matthew spoke belligerently, on the defensive now. ‘None of that makes no odds now except that you could still lose your good name.’
‘You are wrong,’ Ellie said, ‘it’s quite obvious that Paul Marchant hasn’t taken you into his confidence.’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘I mean he signed some papers, he not only restored his wife’s fortune to her but he cleared me of any involvement in the whole sorry business.’ She smiled suddenly, ‘I’m afraid you don’t come out of it so well.’
‘Why, what did he say about me?’ Matthew felt his throat become dry.
‘Just cut your losses, Matthew, go away and don’t let me see you around here again or my conscience might trouble me, I might find it necessary to inform the authorities about your little schemes.’
‘You’re bluffing, you’d implicate Marchant too, if you did anything so rash.’
‘Try me,’ Ellie lifted her chin and stared directly into his eyes. He moved to the door, he knew he was defeated. He felt anger burn within him. He paused and turned towards her. ‘Don’t think you’ve got away with this, I’ll get what’s rightfully mine if it takes me a lifetime. You’ll never know when I’ll turn up, Ellie Hopkins, but I’ll be there, just biding my time.’
Ellie followed him to the door. ‘On your way out of the yard, tell Smithers he no longer has a job at Glyn Hir, there’s a good man.’
Matthew threw her a venomous look. ‘Damn you! Do your own dirty work.’ He strode away, impotent anger boiling within him, he felt like reaching out, taking Ellie Hopkins by her frail throat and strangling the life out of her.
Boyo was in the yard, he looked up at Matthew with indifference and then turned away again. Matthew went over to him, turned him round and smacked him square on the mouth. The boy fell to the ground; looking up, dabbing at the blood on his already swollen lips. He got to his feet. ‘I owe you for that, Matthew, and one day you are going to know all about it.’
‘Fat chance! Tell your boss that’s for her,’ he said and then he walked out of the yard, away from the stink of the tannery, heading for town.
‘Good riddance to bad rubbish,’ Martha said angrily. ‘How dare he come here and make trouble like that.’
‘I don’t think we’ll see him again.’ Ellie sank into a chair. ‘I should have realized about Smithers though, I caught him hanging around the barn when I had the contraband hidden there, at the time I thought it was just idle curiosity. Well, I can’t have him working here any longer.’
‘Instant dismissal, that’s what’s called for.’ Martha folded up her sewing and put it away. ‘It’s too bad when you can’t trust the people who work for you.’ She took off her spectacles, handling them with care, they were new and she treated them like a prized possession. She had even worked an embroidered case especially to hold them. ‘Pity Daniel was away at college, he’d have given Matthew Hewson short shrift.’
‘I have to deal with these things myself,’ Ellie said, ‘at least until I can get away from the tannery for good.’
‘You mean to sell up then, one day?’
‘I’ll have to. If I’m to go with Daniel to wherever his job takes me, I can’t have the worry of the tannery too.’
‘I think you should train Boyo to run the place, good man that, got brains and he’s got spirit, I like that.’
‘You’re right,’ Ellie said. ‘It’s a fine idea, I should have thought of it myself.
‘Aye, it would give the boy a good chance to better himself, he hasn’t had many chances in that young life of his, has he? Something else you want to think of, too, my lady, the year is almost up, the year of mourning for your husband. Soon you must take off your widow’s weeds, buy some decent colourful clothes for heaven’s sake! Just look at you, black skirt, black bodice, even jet beads, you will be an old woman before your time if you don’t watch out.’
Ellie smiled. ‘All right, don’t nag me, Martha, I am quite aware of the time passing, indeed, I’m counting the days until Dan comes home from college.’
There was a knocking on the front door and the sound of Rosie’s hurrying feet across the hall.
‘Good heavens, you are popular today,’ Martha said in a resigned way that belied the curiosity in her eyes.
Ellie rose to her feet with a smile when the door of the sitting room opened to admit Bridie with Collins behind her. ‘What a terrible smell!’ Bridie said coming forward and kissing Ellie’s cheek. ‘How do you manage to live with it?’
‘We won’t have to for much longer,’ Ellie laughed.
‘Don’t tell me you are house-hunting, too,’ Bridie said warmly. ‘Collins and I are going to move to Clydach, I’ll buy a small cottage, somewhere easy to keep warm and clean.’
Ellie smiled, Bridie’s idea of a small cottage was probably something with five bedrooms and servants’ quarters. ‘Sit down, please, make yourself comfortable. Tell me, what can I do for you?’
Bridie looked towards where Ellie was sitting. ‘I’ve come to give you the note Paul signed and to say goodbye, I doubt we’ll see much of each other once I move away.’
‘Clydach isn’t that far, I could always come up to see you. As for the note from your husband, I’ve already made use of that.’ Ellie smiled at the surprise in Bridie’s eyes. ‘I pretended I already had it in my possession, Matthew Hewson was quite put out, believe me.’
‘Matthew Hewson is home?’ Bridie asked. ‘Perhaps I should track him down, ask him what he knows about Paul’s reluctance to return to Swansea.’
‘I doubt he’ll tell you anything,’ Ellie said, ‘not unless you offer him a hefty
bribe, money seems to dominate Matthew’s every thought.’
‘Do you know where he lives?’ Bridie asked and Ellie shook her head. ‘I’ve never cared to find out, I’m sorry, Bridie.’
‘Ah, well, we’ll see. Paul will get in touch when he’s good and ready. In the meantime, let’s just enjoy each others company while we have the chance.’
The evening shadows were closing in when Ellie stood in the doorway, waving to her departing guests. Ellie sighed, it was a good time of year with winter losing its grip on the land, the trees budding, the earth coming to life once more. And soon, very soon, she would be sharing her life with Daniel.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
April was nervous. She stood in the window of the farmhouse and stared out into the garden bright with daffodils and to the fields beyond. It was lambing time, Jamie was very busy but he was prepared to give up some of his precious time in order to have tea with his stepdaughter’s new friend.
‘Do you think we’ll have enough cake?’ Fon bustled into the spotless kitchen, her slim figure encased as always in a crisp white apron. ‘I don’t want your young man to tell folks we don’t eat well up at Honey’s Farm.’ She smiled and pinched April’s cheek. Before April could reply, Jamie came into the kitchen, his hair sparkling with droplets of water, he looked fresh and clean and wholesome. He kissed April’s head and hugged Fon in a bearlike embrace.
April shook her head at them but she understood their need for shows of affection well enough. Fon and Jamie had lost both their sons and tried to compensate for the loss by being extra loving to each other as well as to Cathie and April. Her own mother, as far as April remembered, had been a stoic, independent sort of woman who showed no-one affection. She had died when April was just a small girl and Jamie and Fon had taken April into their home, treated her like a daughter. Yet April had always felt there was something lacking. Now she had Boyo, she knew what it was, it was someone of her very own to love.
‘He’s coming.’ Cathie bounced into the room, ‘I saw him through the window. He’s got his best suit on, duw, he looks like a dog’s dinner.’