The Wild Seed

by Iris Gower

  ‘Come along then,’ Daniel said, ‘let’s get to this fair before it closes, shall we?’

  ‘Forgive my husband’s sarcasm.’ Ellie would have liked to link arms with Bethan but there was something about the older woman that forbade familiarity.

  As the grand, gleaming carriage bounced along the lanes towards Swansea, Ellie felt a renewed sense of excitement. It was so long ago that she had lived there, had laughed and cried as she sat on the sands of Swansea Bay and looked out at Mumbles Head. She had known many joys and many sorrows while she lived at Swansea and there, she reminded herself, she had met Daniel. She glanced at him, resisting the urge to touch his cheek. Daniel had loved her in spite of her strange past, loved her even though she had been a mistress to one rich man and then a wife to another. And he had made her so happy. She reached out her hand and slipped it into his and he looked down at her and smiled. Ellie became aware that Bethan was looking at her with something like envy in her face and, quickly, she withdrew her hand as though she was a child caught out doing something wrong. Once at the fair, Ellie would make sure that she and Daniel had time to wander around on their own, for somehow, something about Bethan Hopkins made her feel uneasy.

  The fairground was opposite the beach and the crowds milled across from one side of the road to the other, enjoying the salt breezes on the shore as well as the crowded sideshows of the fair.

  ‘Let me buy you some ribbons.’ Liam thrust his hand into his pocket and took out some coins. A man standing listlessly against the side of one of the booths snapped to attention, a smile crossing his toothless mouth as he held out a handful of brightly coloured ribbons.

  ‘A green one, I think.’ Liam selected a colour and when he had paid the man he smiled down at Catherine. ‘Turn around then, let’s fasten this in your red curls. It will make you look very fetching, better than the smart ladies from the big houses.’

  Catherine indulged him and felt him lift the thickness of her hair from her neck. She was about to ask him to be quick when suddenly, coming towards her, was Boyo with his wife clinging to his arm. It was easy to see the soft swell of her stomach and suddenly Catherine felt sick with jealousy. Until now she had not thought of Boyo lying with his wife, making love to her. She knew it happened, of course, but now she was faced with the proof of it and she wanted to cry.

  Liam, whether by design or accident, bent at that moment to touch his lips to her neck. Catherine didn’t move but she saw Boyo’s face darken with anger.

  It was as though some devil had taken hold of Catherine as she faced her lover, she wanted to hit out at him, to hurt him as she was hurt. He looked down at her and then at Liam, but it was Bethan who spoke.

  ‘Miss O’Conner, isn’t it? I remember you arriving at my house that time, mud-stained and dishevelled, I felt so sorry for you.’ She smiled and it was clear her words were calculated to embarrass Catherine.

  ‘No need to feel sorry for me,’ she said, ‘I’m young and strong, you see.’ She saw Bethan flush at the intended insult to her age.

  ‘This is my cousin Liam from Ireland.’ Catherine hugged Liam’s arm to her side and stared Boyo in the face defiantly. ‘He’s handsome, don’t you agree, Boyo?’

  There was an awkward silence and then Bethan’s face seemed to change, her eyes glittered and her mouth was twisted. ‘I hate you!’ The words came out so low Catherine wondered if she had heard aright.

  ‘You could have any man you wanted,’ Bethan said, her voice harsh, ‘couldn’t you leave me with the only one I will ever want?’

  The two women looked at each other and it was Catherine who looked away first.

  ‘Come on, Liam,’ she said, her head high, ‘we are here to enjoy ourselves after all.’ She glanced at Boyo, his face was set and expressionless.

  She felt her cheeks burn as she turned away from the raucous noise of the fair and half-stumbled across the road, stepping blindly over the tracks of the Mumbles railway before falling onto the soft sand.

  ‘That was a nasty encounter.’ Liam sank down beside her. ‘I felt almost sorry for Hopkins back there. Two she-cats spitting over him, how he must have burned with embarrassment.’

  ‘Liam!’ Catherine said aghast. ‘Is that what it seemed like to you? Was I that awful?’ She covered her face with her hands. ‘I know I was, I’m a bitch, Boyo will never forgive me.’

  Liam drew Catherine against him. ‘There, the man loves you, anyone with half an eye can see that. But then, so do I and I, my dear Catherine, am free, I have no wife and child hanging on my coat-tails.’

  Catherine felt tears burn her eyes, what a mess she was in, how unhappy she was. And all the time she was playing the fool with a married man, her father was lying sick unto death wanting only a respectable marriage for her.

  ‘Take me home, Liam, will you?’ He held her hand as he led her away from the bay and towards the place where he had tethered the horse. He lifted her into the trap and climbed into the seat beside her.

  ‘Right, madam, home it is.’ He clucked softly and the horse jerked the trap into motion. Catherine closed her eyes and then opened them quickly again as the picture of Boyo with Bethan on his arm came into her mind.

  As the horse and trap moved through the streets of town and out towards Honey’s Farm, Catherine felt a sense of despair. This had been a bad day and somehow, she felt, it could only get worse.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Hari Grenfell walked slowly across the road towards the beach. The sun was high in an azure sky, the sea lapped the shore with sparkling fingers of foam. It was a day to rejoice in being alive.

  She had just taken tea with Boyo Hopkins’s wife; the invitation had come as a surprise but Hari was glad she had accepted it. Bethan had shown an insight into Hari’s financial problems that was remarkable. She had made very good suggestions for cost-cutting and she had volunteered additional funding should Hari need it. Bethan Hopkins was an astute woman, she ran her own business very successfully: an old coaching inn now turned into a hotel with a splendid view over the sea.

  Hari stood at the slip and looked out across the bay, enjoying the sound of the sea washing the shore and the seagulls calling overhead. Behind her, near the park, waited the cab to take her home but Hari had felt the need to be alone for a while.

  Careless of her good worsted skirt, she sank onto the sand. The salt air was crisp, clean, the sky was a blue arc which met the sea on the horizon and merged into shimmering gold where the sun touched the water. Had she missed all this beauty before? She had certainly never seen it with the painful clarity she did now. Perhaps being in the same circumstances as she’d been at the start of her career gave her a clearer vision.

  But she was not really beginning again. Now she had a fine reputation, a supportive husband and the backing of reliable business people, such help had been beyond her in her early days. Now she had resources she did not have when young, a property that would bring her in money, friends who were with her all the way in this new enterprise.

  She rose and shook the sand from her skirts and took in a deep breath of the salt air, knowing she was going to need all her determination and all her strength to make her new venture succeed.

  She glanced up at the skies, so wide, so huge above her and she was aware of her own insignificance in the scheme of things. Doubt swept over her; could she rise again? Clear the debts and get on with her life? What had she achieved for all the hard work she had put in through the early years?

  ‘Stop feeling sorry for yourself!’ She listed her blessings: she had married a fine man, borne his children and, perhaps, with her shoemaking skills, she had brought a little happiness to children with deformities of the foot. Not an earth-shattering list of achievements but enough to make her realize how lucky she had been; some women never found fulfilment. It was about time she returned home and stopped thinking such foolish thoughts.

  She returned to the cab and, nodding to the driver, climbed inside. She sank back in the leather seat and si
ghed, soon she would be home, she would be seated at her own fireside and now, with her efforts, it would remain her own.

  A small smile curved her lips, she knew in that moment that her doubts and indecision had passed. She felt more alive than she had done in a long time, she had a challenge to face and she would face it with courage.

  Excitement filled her, ideas raced through her head. She could devise new designs for the re-launch of the latest collection of her Welsh leather footwear. She would fit women out from head to foot with the best leather: coats, hats, gloves, as well as shoes. Perhaps she could specialize in bridal footwear as a sideline, velvet and satin slippers and millinery and gloves to match. Hari felt a moment of sheer happiness, she was alive, she still had Craig as her strength and her support, she would fight to her last breath to make their future secure.

  ‘I took tea with Mrs Grenfell the other day,’ Bethan was seated in her chair, a tapestry on the frame before her, her needle poised, her glasses slipping to the end of her nose. ‘She is such a fine person, I never thought I would enjoy the company of another woman but indeed, I had a very pleasant afternoon.’ Bethan paused and bit a thread with her fine white teeth.

  ‘She seemed willing to listen to my suggestions and I think I might have given her some fresh ideas. She has such courage, facing poverty and debt the way she is, I am so pleased you decided to help her.’

  Boyo was hidden behind The Swansea Times, he grunted, as though he had no interest in the matter.

  ‘Think the business will pull through, Boyo?’ She refused to be ignored, she wanted his attention; if she could not have his love, could they not at least resurrect the easy friendship that had been between them?

  Her husband shook his head. ‘I expect she will do her damnedest to make it pull through, she has a fine spirit, as you say.’

  ‘And you, do you mean to help her with further funds should she need them? I myself have volunteered extra cash, I’m sure the woman will make a good try to save her business.’

  ‘I agree.’ He was not in the mood to talk and yet Bethan could not let him rest, she needed him to take notice of her at least once in a while.

  ‘She’s very fortunate, is Hari Grenfell, she enjoys a happy and stable marriage.’

  He looked at her then. ‘Not like some, is that what you mean?’

  Bethan shrugged. ‘I was just making an observation.’

  Boyo threw down the paper and rose to pour himself a drink from the decanter, the liquid shimmered in the glass as he swirled it around before tasting the ruby wine. He returned to his seat and sat down, he was frowning.

  Bethan knew what the problem was, Boyo had been in a foul mood ever since the day at the fair when he had seen Catherine O’Conner with her handsome Irish cousin. Since then, he had kept away from the girl, no doubt wishing to air his disapproval of her actions, which was rich considering he was a married man with responsibilities himself.

  ‘Are you being fair to Catherine, do you think?’ Bethan blurted out the words before she had time to evaluate them. ‘I mean you are keeping her away from young society. She’s at an age when she should be making a good marriage, having children. That cousin of hers seems a very suitable match, don’t you agree?’

  ‘Keep out of this, Bethan.’ There was a warning in Boyo’s tone that she chose to ignore.

  Bethan’s patience snapped. ‘Just think what you are doing to her, you are ruining the girl’s chances of a normal life, is that what you want? She needs a husband, children, she is a young healthy woman, what good is a part-time lover? That is not going to be enough for her, she’ll grow tired of the situation and of you, believe me.’

  Boyo rose without another word and left the room and, shortly afterwards, Bethan heard the front door slam behind him. She sighed and put down her sewing; well, the seeds of doubt had been planted in Boyo’s mind. He was a fair man and if he really loved this girl it was best he gave her up now before there were even more complications.

  In her heart Bethan knew just what sort of complications she was afraid of; the girl was young, healthy, she could provide a brood of fine sons for Boyo. She sighed, her hand moving across her stomach; well, whatever happened, it was her child who had first claim on Boyo, for this son or daughter would be his legitimate heir, one he could proudly show off to his friends. She closed her eyes, she must just bide her time, be patient and everything would fall into place.

  Boyo rode the animal hard, the big hoofs kicked up soil and grass as the horse negotiated the rugged land of Honey’s Farm. He must see Catherine, he had to know she was still his. He burned to hold her and his mind was tortured by pictures of her with Liam, of the man bending and kissing the white nape of Catherine’s neck. He gripped the reins tightly, if he had the man here now he would cheerfully strangle him.

  As he crested the hill, he saw her, her skirt bright against the green of the fields. Her hair gleamed in the sunlight, red streaked with gold, spun gold that held the light like a halo around her head.

  ‘Cat!’ He dismounted and flung the reins around a branch. She turned towards him and he could see that her face was pale. ‘Catherine, my little darling.’ He moved to take her in his arms but she spun away.

  ‘Don’t touch me.’ She spoke in a soft voice, her face turned away from him.

  ‘But Cat, I love you, I want to be with you, I long to hold you close and make you mine.’

  ‘You haven’t come near me for days, how can you say you love me? You haven’t asked me about Dad, do you care about anyone other than yourself?’

  ‘Cat, I’m sorry …’

  ‘Sorry!’ she glared at him. ‘Sony’s such a pathetic word.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Seeing you at the fair with her, realizing that all the while you are sharing your wife’s bed as well as mine. Don’t you think it hurt, seeing her like that, full with your child?’

  ‘But my love, that was before we found each other again, I have not touched her in passion since then, I promise you.’

  She looked at him then from under the corners of her long fair lashes. ‘Is that the truth?’

  ‘It is the truth, I swear. I have my own room, my own bed and Bethan knows that I love you, how can she not know?’

  ‘But she is willing to have what little you can spare of yourself, is that it?’

  It sounded so selfish the way Catherine said it. Damn it! It was selfish. He sighed. ‘I have been honest with both of you, I don’t know what else I can do.’

  ‘You could leave your wife, couldn’t you?’ She stared at him, her heart beating swiftly.

  ‘And would you be in a position to stay in our house in Caswell with me if I did?’ he challenged in return.

  ‘Not at the moment.’ She spoke reluctantly, ‘I need to be with my father, he is very sick, not that you give a fig for that.’

  ‘I have offered help, Catherine, I can do no more. And as for Bethan, she is an older woman who is expecting her first child, she needs a husband to give her support and comfort which I feel obliged to give. I have a duty to do just as you have, or is there one rule for you and another for me?’

  Catherine sank onto the ground, the basket she was carrying spilling eggs onto the grass. On the edge of the field he could hear the gurgling of the brook over the stones, the day smelt of summer. He sat beside her and took her in his arms, closing his eyes as he breathed the scent of her.

  ‘My darling girl, I love you so much all I want is to be with you every moment of the night and day. Can you understand how difficult it is for me being trapped in that house, held prisoner by my own conscience?’

  Catherine looked at him with big eyes. ‘Boyo, why did we start this affair? It’s such a mess.’ She paused. ‘I know you love me but you do … have feelings for your wife, don’t you?’

  ‘Of course, but there are times, like today, when I could almost hate her for coming between us.’

  ‘Oh, Boyo, I’m sorry! I’m a scold, I’m making life more difficult for you when what you need, what we
both need, is comfort and love.’

  She drew him down so that they were lying in the sweet grass. He smelled the freshness of her, breathed in her scent and he knew he wanted this woman more than he had ever wanted anything in his whole life. He would give away his house, his fortune, everything he possessed, if he could marry her and make her his own.

  They made love with renewed passion and with great tenderness and when it was over, they lay twined in each other’s arms, the sun on their faces, the freshness of the grass all around them. He felt he would never forget this day, ever, not if he lived to be a hundred.

  Later, he watched as Catherine bathed in the stream, her feet bare, her slender legs pale against the sun. Her hair gleamed like fire and he melted with love for her.

  She came and stood beside him, carrying her shoes in her hand and he touched one of her small, exquisite feet with his fingertips. ‘So lovely, all of you from your head to your toes. I love you, Catherine.’

  She looked up and away from him, her head tipped to one side in an attitude of listening. He heard it then, the voice calling her.

  ‘Something is wrong.’ She was pale, her eyes had taken on a haunted expression. ‘It’s Liam, he’s come for me, Dad must be worse.’

  The young Irishman bounded across the fields towards them and, ignoring Boyo, he took Catherine by the shoulders. Before Boyo had time to digest the fact that Catherine accepted the man’s touch, the boy was speaking rapidly in strong Irish tones.

  ‘I’ve been looking everywhere for you, come home, it’s your father, he wants to see you.’ She clutched his arms, her knuckles white.

  ‘Is it … is it the end?’

  ‘Sure an’ only the good Lord in His heaven knows that, my colleen, but the priest has given your father the last rites so you’d better come now, there’s no time to waste.’

  Catherine looked back at Boyo as he rose to his feet. ‘I have to go.’ She licked her lips. ‘I’ll see you when I can.’