by Iris Gower
April glanced around the room, it looked bright and cheerful, a fire gleamed in the black-leaded hearth, the brasses shone and April knew she must give Fon full credit for that. The back door stood open, the fresh March breezes ruffled the white cloth on the table, April waited until Boyo knocked and then she allowed Cathie to move to let him in, not wanting to appear too eager.
His face was reddened though if it was because of the breeze or embarrassment, April couldn’t tell. He took off his cap and twisted it in his hands and for a moment there was silence.
‘Come in and welcome lad,’ Jamie’s big shoulders were bent forward as he shook Boyo’s hand. ‘Make yourself at home.’
Boyo sat stiffly on the edge of the chair, his glance swept towards April and she smiled tremulously.
‘How are your family, lad?’ Jamie was attempting to make conversation but it was the worst question he could have asked. Boyo went even redder. ‘I’m an orphan, sir, came from the workhouse. Jubilee Hopkins took me in when I was young, gave me a roof over my head. Jubilee and Ellie are the only family I’ve ever known.’
‘Tough start for any young man,’ Jamie said.
April glanced at him, she was grateful to Jamie for trying to put Boyo at his ease but Boyo was shifting awkwardly in his chair.
‘Why don’t you show Boyo over the farm?’ Jamie said. ‘Tea won’t be ready for a while, will it Fon?’
‘Not for half hour or so, there’s plenty of time. Take a shawl, April,’ Fon cautioned, ‘it’s quite chilly out in the fields, mind.’
It was good to be in the fresh air, walking side by side with Boyo April wanted to reach out and take his hand but she didn’t quite dare. She glanced up at him and he turned his head and met her eye. ‘I suppose I’ve cooked my goose, now, with your father, I mean.’
‘No of course you haven’t.’ April knew at once what was worrying him. ‘The fact that you grew up in the workhouse won’t bother Jamie one little bit, he wouldn’t stop us getting married, don’t you worry.’
She flushed suddenly, ‘We will marry one day, won’t we?’ Boyo turned and faced her. ‘Of course.’ His eyes were blue, very blue against the brownness of his skin. She wondered briefly what his origins were, perhaps his parents came from abroad, Italy or Spain. She found the idea exotic. She held out her hand, her heart beating swiftly and he took it, curling his strong fingers around hers. She felt a thrill run through her as, linked, they walked away from the farmhouse and towards the open fields.
‘Do you think you’ve done the right thing?’ Fon asked, turning from the window to look at Jamie. ‘Isn’t sending them off alone like that asking for trouble?’
‘I trust April to be a sensible girl,’ Jamie said.
‘I know but I’m still worried, what sort of future would April have with a boy like him, he has nothing.’
Jamie took her in his arms and tipped her face up to his. ‘He has his pride,’ he said gently. ‘He’s earning his keep, he’s neat and clean, she could do a lot worse.’
Fon sighed, ‘I suppose so.’ Fon sniffed the air. ‘Good heavens! I’d better take the scones out of the oven, they’ll be done to death!’ She bent over and lifted the tray of scones and placed it on the window-sill to cool. Perhaps it would be rather nice when April was wed, one less to wash and feed in the busy household. It was time, after all that the girl spread her wings.
She well remembered the time April had threatened to leave the farm. She had applied for a position at Glyn Hir Tannery as a maid but fortunately the post had gone to an older girl. April had sulked for a few days and then forgotten all about her intention to leave home.
Cathie came in from the garden where she had, apparently, been keeping watch. ‘They’re coming back,’ she announced. ‘He’s holding her hand, dad, soppy thing.’ Fon hid a smile, Cathie was at the age when she wanted nothing to do with boys. According to her they were noisy, smelly creatures.
When the couple came into the kitchen, April was flushed, her eyes shining. Fon felt tears come to her eyes, April’s delight was an innocent emotion, something so beautiful, so young that Fon all at once felt old and jaded.
‘Sit down, Boyo,’ Fon smiled at him. ‘The scones are hot from the oven and I’ve got a nice pot of jam put away for a special occasion and I think this is it.’
‘Did you enjoy your stroll around the farm?’ Jamie took a seat at the table next to Boyo, leaning on one strong arm, talking as though man to man.
‘It’s an eye-opener,’ Boyo said. ‘I didn’t realize how tiny the lambs were. And the cattle, they are so docile, makes me feel a bit guilty really.’
Fon put the plate of scones on the table, ‘Why should you feel guilty?’
‘Well, I see only the skins,’ Boyo spoke awkwardly, ‘it’s not very nice.’
Fon nodded. ‘But then, you don’t kill the beasts, that’s all done at the abattoir.’
‘True enough,’ Boyo agreed. ‘Still, it’s much better seeing the cows alive and grazing in the fields than having to work with the skins all day long.’
‘Perhaps one day you’ll be a farmer,’ Jamie said but without too much conviction. Farming had to be born and bred into a man, the long hours, the back-breaking work, the toiling in rain and shine, it was not the idyllic life many townies supposed it to be.
Boyo smiled. He really was a good-looking boy, Fon realized as she took her seat next to April. ‘Ellie, Mrs Hopkins has plans for me,’ Boyo spoke proudly, ‘she wishes me to train up to take over the management of the tannery when she gets wed.’
‘Ellie Hopkins is getting wed?’ Fon asked, her interest aroused. Boyo flushed bright red. ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything, it’s all a secret, just for the time being.’
‘Well my mam and dad won’t say anything,’ April said comfortingly. Boyo smiled at her, obviously besotted.
The chatter became more general and Fon found that she was growing to like Boyo, his frank, open manner and his polite deference to herself and Jamie was reassuring. In any case, it was foolish to take the relationship between her stepdaughter and this young man seriously, no doubt April would have many young lads dancing attendance on her before she settled down.
Later, when the youngsters were in the parlour, Fon said as much to Jamie. He looked thoughtful. ‘I don’t know, they seem serious enough to me. If they’re truly in love, I for one won’t stand in their way.’
‘Nor me,’ Fon said quickly, ‘but I hope that they don’t rush into anything before they’re sure of their feelings.’
She paused, watching Jamie shrug on his coat, he was a big handsome man and she loved him dearly, if April should be so fortunate in her choice of man then Fon would be happy for her. She reached up and hugged Jamie and he looked down at her, his eyebrows raised. ‘What was that for?’
‘Just to say I love you.’
Jamie pinched her cheek. ‘I know you do and rightly so, aren’t I the best catch for miles around?’
She flicked a cloth at him. ‘Go on, off with you, you big idiot!’
She watched him as he walked away from the house and a smile curved her lips. He was right, he was the best catch for miles around and he was all hers.
Gerald’s condition had become critical. By the time Arian arrived at the hospital, he was gasping for breath, his mouth blue, his face sunken and gaunt. She stood near his bed, looking down at the husband she never loved with pity.
‘It won’t be long now.’ The doctor entered the room and stood beside her. Arian looked up at him and saw that Eddie Carpenter was rubbing at his eyes tiredly. ‘We’ve done all that we can for him but I’m afraid it wasn’t enough.’
‘I’m grateful to you,’ Arian said softly, ‘I don’t know how I would have coped without this hospital.’ She sighed, ‘I can’t help feeling guilty that I didn’t do enough for him myself.’
‘You did all that was humanly possible.’ Eddie spoke reassuringly. ‘He needed constant medication or he would have become violent again. You have noth
ing with which to reproach yourself.’
‘You are a nice man, Eddie Carpenter,’ Arian said gratefully. She heard a sigh from the man in the bed and turning, saw that Gerald’s eyes were open. He was staring upwards and though his eyes appeared clear, he seemed lost in a world of his own. ‘May God forgive me,’ he said and his voice was thin, reed-like in the silence of the room. And then he died, in contrast to the way he had lived, quietly and peacefully.
Arian stared down at him for a long moment seeing only the sad husk of the man who once seemed possessed with demonic strength. She could not cry, there were no tears for Gerald Simples in her. She bent her head and prayed for forgiveness for her coldness of heart. Eddie’s hands were gentle upon her shoulders then, drew her away from the bed, and out of the room. She was led into an office, seated in a chair and a cup of hot tea was placed before her. She sipped it gratefully.
‘Is there anything I can do?’ Eddie was seated on the other side of the desk now, leaning over it, staring at her anxiously. Arian shook her head. ‘No thank you, Eddie, I’ll manage.’ She sighed. ‘I’ll call into the undertakers on my way home, I don’t suppose there will be much else for me to do, will there?’
‘There will be no difficulties this end, Simples’ death was of natural causes, he’d been very sick for some time and his health had deteriorated over the years, there will be no problem, I assure you.’
When Arian left the hospital, she lifted her head to the cool breeze coming in from the sea. The air was softer today, it held the promise of spring. Already daffodils were waving triumphantly in the hedgerows, defying the March winds.
Later, with her unpleasant business completed, the funeral arranged, Arian made her way to Calvin’s house. The maid showed her in, an expression of curiosity on her face, it was rarely Arian called without prior notice. Calvin came at once from his study, he was wearing a deep wine-coloured jacket and a crisp white shirt and he looked so wholesome and alive that Arian wanted to go straight into his arms. He led her into the drawing room and once he’d closed the doors, he held her close. ‘It’s over, isn’t it, he’s gone?’
Arian nodded wordlessly. Calvin held her closer, kissing her glossy hair. ‘You did your best for him, always remember that.’
He led her to a chair and she sank down gratefully, her legs were suddenly trembling. She put her hands to her face feeling the hotness of her cheeks.
‘I should be sad for him and all I feel is relief.’ She looked appealingly at Calvin. ‘Am I very wicked?’
‘Of course not, my darling. That man put you through hell, what do you think you should feel?’
‘I feel I should have tried to help him, tried harder to find a cure for his illness. At the very least I should have gone to see him more often than I did, he was my responsibility.’
‘Look,’ Calvin took her hands, ‘whenever there’s a death, those in contact with the sick person feel guilt, it’s natural enough but believe me, you must shake yourself out of it. Gerald was cruel, he was a murderer and he became addicted to laudanum, what could anyone do for him that you didn’t do?’
‘I know what you say makes sense.’ Arian rubbed her eyes, ‘but . . .’
‘No,’ Calvin interrupted her, ‘there are no “buts”, what you did for Simples was over and above your duty.’ He smiled. ‘Come on, I’m going to take you out for a drive, we’ll breathe the fresh air and look at the dawning of spring and we’ll talk about our future together.’
Arian felt a glimmer of happiness, Calvin was right, there was nothing more she could do for Gerald Simples other than give him a decent Christian burial. She sighed softly and then there were tears in her eyes, though who she was crying for, she wasn’t quite sure.
She rose to her feet, ‘I’d like to take a drive with you, Calvin but I’ll need to get back to the office, I’m not one of the idle rich like you, remember.’
He took her in his arms again. ‘Will I see you tonight?’ he asked softly. She nodded. ‘Yes please.’ She hugged him to her and then moved resolutely to the door. ‘I must catch up on my work.’ It was she realized what she most needed right now, to lose herself in her paper. She paused and looked up at Calvin. ‘It’s over, the past, my marriage, it’s over at last.’
The funeral took place several days later. The rain seemed in tune with Arian’s feelings as it poured grey and cold over the freshly dug earth. She looked around her, there was no-one to mourn the passing of Gerald Simples, no-one but the wife who never cared for him. The curate intoned the prayers and over his quietly spoken words, Arian heard the singing of a bird. It was like an omen, a symbol of her freedom. Was she callous to think that way?
After the brief ceremony had ended, Arian thanked the curate and seeing that he was impatient to be away to a warm fire and a change of clothing, made her way out of the cemetery and onto the road where she had a cab waiting for her.
‘Excuse me, Miss Smale, might I talk to you?’ A young man was standing before her, a pencil and notebook clasped in his hand. ‘I’m from the Cambrian, we are going to write a piece about the death of Gerald Simples, I understand the man was a murderer, I wondered if you wished to make any comment?’
Arian shook her head. ‘No, except you should learn to use a little tact if you want to become a good reporter.’
Alone, she drove home to her rooms above the press and considered the future that was unfolding before her. Soon, she would put the past behind her, she would feel free to marry Calvin. She experienced a dart of unease at the thought and then pushed the feeling aside. She wanted to be with Calvin, of course she did, have everything out in the open with no need to hide in corners but there would be ample time for that, later, much later. He had wished to accompany her to the funeral today but she had dissuaded him, it was pointless fuelling the flames of the gossips, enough had been said in the past about Arian Smale and her affairs.
The clip-clop of the horse’s hooves slowed and Arian realized that she was home. She paid the driver and hurried indoors, locking the door behind her. Upstairs in her rooms, the fire burned in the grate and Arian sank down on the carpet feeling the warmth of the flames penetrate the coldness that had settled over her.
Later, she bathed and changed into fresh dry clothing and then tucked her feet up under her skirts for warmth. She had asked Calvin not to come around this evening, she needed to be alone. There was no question that she wished to be Calvin’s wife or was there? She loved him but did she really want to live with him in his grand house? She glanced around her, the room was comfortable, familiar, it was hers and it was home. Outside she could hear the distant sound of traffic, the sound of horses’ hooves on the cobbles, of street vendors calling their wares to entice the passer-by. She was in the heart of Swansea and she liked that. She supposed she had settled into a rut during the past years, she had become quite selfish in her independence but it was a good feeling to be answerable to no-one, to be mistress of her destiny. Marriage to Calvin would change all that, was that what she really wanted?
Even when she retired to her bed, thoughts still plagued her, doubts about her future loomed large. She would sleep on it, she decided and then, when she was calm and clear-headed, she would make her decision.
It was late the next evening by the time she saw Calvin, she had been busy with the paper, there had been more than the usual petty irritations to mar her day. The tide tables had been wrong again and a family who had been named in a trial at Swansea courts was claiming it was a case of mistaken identity. Mac had lost his temper and dismissed one of the junior reporters and the young man’s fiancée from the typing room had burst into tears and declared she was leaving too.
‘Had a hard day?’ Calvin asked when she arrived at his house and flung herself into the nearest chair sighing with gratitude at being off her feet.
‘You could say that.’ Arian unlaced her boots and kicking them off, wriggled her toes with pleasure.
‘Well, that will all be over in a month or two.’ Calvin p
oured her a good measure of port. ‘You’ll be a lady of leisure when you’re my wife.’
‘I’m not quite sure I understand you.’ A prickle of apprehension made Arian’s voice more sharp than she had intended. ‘I would still expect to run the paper, Calvin, there’s never been any question of me giving that up.’
‘But you can’t work when you are married to me,’ Calvin was genuinely surprised, ‘you’ll be Lady Calvin Temple, you need never work again.’
‘I need never work again as it is,’ Arian replied tartly, ‘I have enough funds to keep me in modest comfort for the rest of my life but that’s not the point.’
Calvin looked grave. ‘Then what is the point?’
Arian shook her head. ‘Calvin, I’ve been having doubts, not of my love for you,’ she added hastily, ‘that is without question but am I really cut out for marriage, I wasn’t much of a wife to Gerald Simples was I?’
He turned away from her and she knew he was hurt. She rose swiftly and went to him but he held the two glasses of port between them as though they were a shield.
‘How can you love me if you don’t wish to marry me?’ His voice had taken on an edge and Arian moved away from him and stared down into the fire.
‘You know I need a son,’ Calvin said, ‘I thought you were of a mind to give me an heir.’
‘I know and I would love to have your child, our child, but Calvin, I can’t give up the newspaper, I really can’t, not even for you.’ Her pathway was clear now, she knew what she must do.
‘Calvin, I can’t marry you, I’ve been having doubts about it and now that you have put forward your ideas of what our married life would be like, I know it would be wrong for me.’ She paused and then spoke more gently. ‘Can’t we just carry on as we have been doing all this time, please?’
Calvin put down the glasses and came to her, taking her in his arms. ‘I need you, Arian, I want you to be the mother of my child, isn’t that natural?’
‘Yes, of course it is,’ she said, ‘but . . .’