by Iris Gower
‘Get one thing into your head, it’s over between us; all that you can do for me now is to go on your way to the police station and clear Liam’s name,’ she moved away from him, ‘and leave me in peace.’
She was hurrying along the road then, her skirts flying, her eyes filled with tears. She still loved him, she knew she was a fool to even think of him that way and yet the blood had sung in her veins as she had stood close enough to touch him.
Suddenly, the comfort of her life at the store, the pleasant acceptance of the changes that had taken place in her life vanished and she saw herself as she really was, penniless, unloved and alone.
‘I’m afraid my husband was mistaken, Sergeant Meadows, I am sorry you have found it necessary to make a trip all the way out here.’ Bethan smiled and the policeman took her hand and deftly palmed the money she held out to him.
‘No trouble at all, Mrs Hopkins. In any event, I thought it wise to wait for your word on the matter before I called off the search for the rogue.’
‘Very wise, I appreciate that.’ Bethan smiled. ‘I will make sure I mention your vigilance to your superiors.’
She nodded to the young maid who bobbed a curtsey and opened the double doors of the sitting-room before leading the policeman into the hall.
Bethan rose to her feet, her face twisting into a sneer; so Boyo had thought to spoil her plans, had he? Well, he would have to be much cleverer than that if he wanted to outwit her.
She moved to the window and looked out at the grim rocks, hovering like a threat above the house. Why had she come here to this strangely haunted place? Why did she stay? She longed to pack up her bags and leave; she almost did leave but her father had fallen sick. Quite suddenly, he had turned from an intelligent, able man into an invalid, confined to his bed. Bethan found herself more and more irritated by his querulous demands but he was her father and he would be leaving her a considerable fortune. When he died she would be among the richest women in the country. The thought gave her a tremendous sense of power. Money bought you anything you wanted. Anything. Her heart dipped in pain, it would not buy her husband back. She pushed the thought away. How long would her father linger? Would he become more and more of a burden to her as each day passed?
She pushed the uneasy thoughts away and turned to matters of more immediate importance. Her plans for revenge on Mr Liam Cullen were well underway, she had men out in Ireland at this moment, making for the farm near Cork. There they would begin work, poisoning the crops on the Cullen lands. Slowly she would destroy Liam Cullen, take from him all that he owned. He had dared to threaten her, so now he must suffer the same fate as his precious cousin.
Bethan’s fist clenched, she could picture Catherine’s face, pale, delicate, surrounded with a cloud of lovely hair. The girl was everything Bethan was not, seductive, small of stature, the sort of woman who could stir the blood of any man.
She forced herself to relax and stretched her fingers wide to relieve the ache that had begun in them. She was getting pain in her bones lately, it was this house, damp and unwelcoming and yet, she was beginning to feel she could not leave here. It was hers, it was part of her; perhaps she had always been meant to live here, alone, a dried-up spinster.
‘Damn!’ She thumped her fist on one of the occasional tables, spilling a vase of flowers. She watched the blooms fall to the carpet and rivulets of water pour along the polished surface and down the ornate legs of the furniture, and suddenly she smiled.
She rose from her chair and called cheerfully for Cara to clear up the mess. ‘I’ve had a little accident,’ she said easily, ‘but no real harm done, I think.’
She swept from the room and up the stairs to the bedrooms. Here she could talk to herself in peace and here, sometimes, she felt sure voices answered her.
In the master bedroom, the one she should be sharing with her husband, she settled herself on the bed and crossed her arms over her body, as though such an act could prevent her from feeling alone.
‘I’m content,’ she said softly; ‘my revenge has begun, I’ve torn that woman away from my husband’s arms, caused a breach that they will never mend. And what’s more, Honey’s Farm is mine, all mine, to dispose of as I wish. Catherine O’Conner, you will rue the day you crossed Bethan Hopkins. Gloat while you may, your troubles are just beginning.’
CHAPTER TWENTY
‘I’ll do what I can, sir,’ Constable Danby frowned over his notes while behind him, his mother, her great shelf of a bosom shaking with laughter, poured hot, fragrant tea into dainty china cups.
‘I’m grateful to you.’ Liam leaned back in his chair, relaxing a little now that the purpose of his visit had been achieved. His case had been considered calmly and coldly. He had brought his solicitor with him and Seamus was imposing in his dark suit and crisp high collar.
‘Duw, anyone with half an eye can see the young gent wouldn’t need to steal anything.’ Mrs Danby lowered her great bulk into a chair. ‘Good clothes, shoes polished to an inch of their life. Oh, no, Mr Cullen is no thief, you can take that from me, Jerry Danby, I’ve got a nose for these things.’ To emphasize the point, she tapped her nose, a small button of a nose for such a large face and winked meaningfully at Liam.
‘Aye, feelings are all right, Ma, it’s proof that is needed in cases like this.’ Jerry Danby spoke dryly and his mother shrugged and shook her head.
‘Well, didn’t her old man come in the station and say there had been a mistake and he should know.’
‘Yes, Ma but then Mrs Hopkins came back to tell us the pin was still missing.’ He looked at Liam, ‘I think it might be better if you came with me to the station. I’m not arresting you, see, just giving good advice.’
‘What then?’ Liam knew the constable was right, running away had been a mistake, one he must do his best to correct.
‘Then you may have to be detained, perhaps until a judge can try to sort it all out.’
‘I don’t think so,’ Seamus said slowly. ‘With lack of even one shred of evidence there would be no reason to hold my client. Indeed, I’m surprised he was accused in the first place on so flimsy a story. Still,’ he turned to Liam, ‘it would be better if you went into the station voluntarily.’
Liam nodded. ‘Sure an’ I know you are right.’
‘Mr Cullen was going to be questioned on the word of a very influential lady. When Mr Cullen ran away, it looked very bad for him.’
Constable Danby rose to his feet and shrugged his broad shoulders into his coat, sometime in the not too distant future the policeman would be as large as his mother, Liam thought.
‘The matter can easily be cleared up, I’m sure,’ Jerry Danby said easily. ‘The important question is, were you ever alone with the lady?’
Liam shook his head. ‘No, I was in the sitting-room when Mrs Hopkins called to see me and there were several other guests there at the time.’
‘So, if the lady did lose her pin, and I must say there seems to be some doubt about that, then anyone could have picked it up.’
‘I suppose so.’
‘Right then, I can’t see there’s any problem, shall we go Mr Cullen?’
The trip to the police station was a short one and as Liam entered the ornate portico, he took a deep breath.
‘Don’t worry, sir,’ Constable Danby said, ‘everything is going to be all right.’
Sergeant Meadows was at the desk, his hair was grizzled grey and his colour high, he drank too much gin and longed for retirement. He looked up at Liam and then turned with raised eyebrows to Jerry Danby.
‘Mr Cullen has come in voluntarily,’ Danby said easily. ‘Gave himself into my charge, he did, and, as far as I can see, there’s no reason to detain him.’
‘Oh, so you are an authority on the law now, are you, son?’ The older police officer rose to his feet and stared at Constable Danby with narrowed eyes.
Seamus stepped forward. ‘I think I can claim I know something about it, I’m a lawyer,’ he said easily. ‘It se
ems that there were other people seated in the lounge of the Castle Hotel when the pin went missing. I fail to see why my client should be held responsible any more than the other guests present at the time.’
‘But Mr Cullen was the one talking to Mrs Hopkins, he was the one who was close enough to take the item.’
‘So you think he might have unpinned it from the lady’s bodice then?’
Sergeant Meadows looked confused. ‘Well, no.’
‘No,’ Seamus said equitably, ‘I am sure Mrs Hopkins would have noticed such an obvious move.’
‘Well, she dropped it, that’s clear as daylight.’
‘And where exactly did the lady drop the pin; in the street, in the lobby of the hotel, in the sitting-room, where?’
‘Well, I don’t know.’ Sergeant Meadows shook his head as though to clear it.
‘I would advise you that with such a flimsy case you would put your own career in jeopardy if you were to detain my client.’
‘Better take his details and let him go, sir,’ Constable Danby advised in a low voice.
Meadows shot him a venomous look and sat down at his desk, taking up a pen and dipping it into the ink with fierce jabs of his hand.
Liam sighed with relief. He was careful not to look at the young policeman, he could see that Danby would come in for a certain amount of ire from his older colleague.
It was less than half an hour later when Liam walked from the station a free man, his name cleared. He turned to Seamus and shook his hand. ‘Thank the good Lord you were here.’
‘Ah well, save your thanks,’ Seamus looked grave. ‘I’ve had disturbing news from home, your farm is in some sort of trouble.’ He paused, ‘Look, I think I’ve got a lead on the whereabouts of Catherine O’Conner, something Danby said. I’ll continue the search here. You’d best get back to Ireland on the next boat.’
Catherine moved along the floor of the shop, her head high, her hands smoothing down her skirt nervously. She was very aware of her new clothes. Even more aware of the fine, comfortable boots made for her by Hari Grenfell. She felt she was taking some sort of test, she was about to serve her first customer.
‘Good morning, madam, can I help you?’ Catherine hoped that her tone was the right mixture of deference and confidence.
‘Catherine! How are you? I must say this is a surprise.’ Ellie Bennett held out her hand, it was warm and, with a feeling of self-consciousness, Catherine shook it briefly.
‘I’m working for Mrs Grenfell now,’ Catherine said. ‘Hoping I have the makings of a good saleslady.’
‘But Catherine, what on earth made you leave Honey’s Farm? It was where you were born.’
‘I had no choice,’ Catherine said, ‘I couldn’t afford to keep up my payments to the bank and the farm was sold.’
‘Well, I hope it went to someone who loved the land as you did,’ Ellie said gently.
‘Mrs Hopkins bought it, Boyo … Boyo Hopkins’s wife.’
‘Perhaps it’s for the best,’ Ellie was sympathetic. ‘It must have been lonely and very hard work for you and at least you know that Boyo will care for the farm, make it thrive again. Honey’s Farm is part of his life as well as yours, he will do his very best to make it work. I’m sure you two are still very good friends aren’t you?’
‘What can I show you, Mrs Bennett?’ Catherine turned to hide the hot colour that came to her face. She led Ellie towards one of the ornate chairs that graced the shop floor.
Catherine was aware of Doreen placing a finished hat on a stand and watching her, urging her on to success. When Catherine glanced towards her, Doreen winked and mouthed the words ‘Give ’em hell!’
Catherine resisted the urge to laugh. ‘Is it boots you want, Mrs Bennett, or slippers? We have a fine new stock of both.’
Ellie relaxed and placed her bag on the carpet, drawing off her gloves with quick movements. ‘Oh, I can’t afford to buy boots and slippers, Catherine, I’m just the wife of a poor cleric, remember?’
Catherine did remember, she remembered the shock waves that shook the town when Ellie Bennett handed over Glyn Hir tannery and the fortune that went with it to Boyo. It was only much later that Ellie’s reasons had become clear. Boyo, so the gossips said, was old Jubilee Hopkins’s grandson.
Now Ellie was Mrs Daniel Bennett and she seemed completely happy with her role as the wife of a struggling cleric, as she put it.
‘No, it’s just a pair of house slippers, that’s all I want for now. Can you show me something not too expensive?’
Catherine’s feelings of nervousness vanished, she felt exhilarated as she brought a selection of slippers for Ellie’s inspection. She even found she was enjoying herself. She eventually sold Ellie a pair of slippers in black brocade, decorated with tiny jet beads. And, in spite of Ellie’s protestations of poverty, persuaded her to buy a fine pair of walking boots that were marked down in price because of a scuff on one of the heels.
‘Thank you, Catherine,’ Ellie smiled ruefully as she pulled on her gloves and rose to her feet. ‘I think you are going to make an excellent saleslady.’
When Ellie had left, Doreen came forward, smiling her approval.
‘Well done, little Cath, like the lady said, we’ll make a saleslady of you yet.’ She touched Catherine’s shoulder, ‘And the more sales you make, the more commission you get, so it’s all up to you.’
‘That’s news to me,’ Catherine said, her eyebrows raised. ‘I didn’t think I would get anything except my wages for selling shoes.’
‘Well, you learn something every day, don’t you? Mrs Grenfell believes in encouraging us to do well, not in pushing us like slaves the way some bosses do.’
‘If I work hard, sell plenty of shoes, perhaps soon I’ll be able to get my own place,’ Catherine said wistfully. ‘It’s good of Mrs Grenfell to let me stay here in the house but I feel I’m intruding, taking advantage of her good nature.’
‘Look,’ Doreen rubbed her cheek with her forefinger, ‘why don’t you have a room at my place?’
‘Sounds lovely,’ Catherine said, ‘but what about your husband, won’t he have something to say about that?’
‘Duw, I haven’t got no husband! Pete Meadows ran out on me years ago and good riddance to him I say. Policeman he is, so-called respectable, well I could tell you a thing or two about him that would make your hair curl.’
She paused to take a breath. ‘Anyway, I could let you have the big bedroom, we could turn it into a sitting-room so that you could be private like.’
‘But wouldn’t I be in the way?’ Catherine wanted badly to accept Doreen’s offer, the loneliness in the evenings was becoming unbearable and yet she was reluctant to impose on the other woman’s friendship.
‘The extra rent would help me, mind.’ Doreen urged as if sensing something of Catherine’s thoughts.
‘In that case, I’d love to come and live with you.’ Catherine felt like hugging Doreen but at that moment, the door opened and a group of women swept into the shop.
‘Give me the weekend to get the place right and then I’ll take you over there Monday, right?’
Doreen swept away and lowered her head to the ladies as though they were royalty. The women preened and Catherine smiled to herself, she could learn a thing or two from Doreen Meadows.
It was late in the evening when she heard a knocking on the back door of the flat. Cautiously, Catherine moved to the small window and peered outside. It was growing dark and all she could see was a shadowy figure outlined against the glow of the lamplight. The figure moved and she saw a glint of red hair.
‘Who’s there?’ she called. With mixed feelings she hesitated, knowing full well who was standing outside. But she didn’t want to see Liam, he was part of her past; a lover for one night but she had never loved him, had she?
‘It’s me, Catherine, open the door, please.’ He sounded anxious, unlike his usual calm self and Catherine drew back the bolts.
‘Come in, Liam,’ Catherine spoke gru
dgingly. ‘How did you find out where I was staying?’
‘I had a great deal of help. Thank God you are safe and well.’ Liam flopped into a chair and she saw that his clothes were mud-stained, his hair awry. There were shadows beneath his eyes.
‘What is it, Liam, what’s wrong?’ She sat down quickly beside him and took one of his hands in hers. He was cold, his fingers, gripping hers, felt icy to the touch.
‘I’ve been to Ireland, I’ve just got back.’ He looked directly at her, ‘It’s bad news; the crops are poisoned, the new machinery broken and useless. My investment is gone, the profit I made last year has vanished into the blue.’
‘But Liam, how could this happen, you were doing so well?’
‘Someone has it in for me that’s sure enough, Catherine, and I think I know just who the bastard that wants me ruined is.’
Catherine put her hand to her mouth trying to sort out her tangled thoughts. ‘Liam, now be calm, don’t jump to conclusions.’
‘I’m not jumping to conclusions, colleen, the only man who hates my guts enough to sicken my animals, sour the milk and try to destroy my livelihood is Boyo Hopkins. I’ve come back to have it out with him, make him wish he had never been born, I’ll burn his house around his ears.’
‘No! He wouldn’t do a thing like that.’ Catherine spoke without thinking. She felt a cold hand of fear trickle through her, Boyo’s wife could be capable of such an act but even she would not go to such lengths, surely?
‘The man is offloading Honey’s Farm in small parcels like so much ballast,’ Liam said.
‘I don’t believe it.’ Catherine’s voice sounded hoarse even to her own ears.
‘Don’t you know what’s going on under your nose, Cath? The man is wreaking revenge on me and on you.’
‘But why, what have we done?’
Liam held her hands even tighter. ‘He knows we are lovers. Hopkins is far from stupid and I reckon that if the man can’t have you himself then he’ll ruin both our lives rather than let us be happy.’
‘Liam, we slept together once, that doesn’t make us lovers.’ She faced him squarely. ‘I’m sorry, Liam, I should have been honest with you; I am not in love with you.’