by Iris Gower
‘I can understand the woman buying the farm,’ Craig said reasonably. ‘It went for a very good price and it’s prime land for building on. That’s what’s taking off right now, houses, property, somewhere near the sea. And you must admit that Honey’s Farm has all that.’
‘I know but then the land is over to the east of the town, it’s not where the rich want to live, is it?’
‘No, but haven’t you heard that houses are going to be built there for the workers, the rent will be cheap and the slums of the town can be cleared away. I expect Mrs Hopkins got wind of the scheme and got her bid in early for the land. A shrewd move, I wish I’d thought of it.’ He paused thoughtfully. ‘If business doesn’t pick up in a few weeks’ time then I’ll seriously consider what you’ve said. Until then, Hari, let’s just get on with our lives, shall we?’
He sounded a little impatient. Hari took a deep breath, it was pointless to say anything more at this stage, Craig, being a man couldn’t believe a woman could be so devious, so vengeful.
‘By the way, where is that young girl, Catherine, isn’t it? I haven’t seen her around lately,’ Craig said cheerfully steering the subject away from business matters.
‘She went to Ireland to see her mother, she’s coming back to work tomorrow.’
‘She’s a pretty little thing.’ Craig looked at his wife with a gleam in his eye. ‘But not half as lovely as my own little woman.’
‘Your wife, if you don’t mind.’ Hari tried to respond lightly but she was worried about the business, more worried than she should be at this stage. So sales were down, it was nothing crucial and yet she had the strangest feeling that things could only get worse.
‘Thank goodness you’re back.’ Doreen looked up from her chair with a smile as Catherine entered the kitchen and dumped her bag on the table. ‘It’s been like the grave by ’ere without you.’
‘I’m sure!’ Catherine hugged Doreen tightly. ‘Don’t tell me you haven’t had Jerry Danby round here every night keeping you company.’
Doreen drew away frowning. ‘We’ve had to be careful, mind, can’t have Meadows finding out what’s going on. Now you are back Jerry can call any time he likes.’
‘I see!’ Catherine placed her hands on her hips. ‘That’s why you’re so glad to see me home again, is it?’
‘Pipe down, for Gawd’s sake, and get a cup of tea inside you, just made a fresh pot. I got a pie baked for you and some crusty bread, as well. Should have been making hats, mind, and if that’s not a welcome then I don’t know what is.’
With a sigh of contentment, Catherine sat at the table, the tea was hot and sweet, the aroma of the bread rose invitingly. ‘It’s good to be back.’
Doreen was looking at her quizzically. ‘No ring, I see, is it all over then?’
‘It’s all off. I’ve told Liam I can’t marry him.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Sure as I’ll ever be about anything.’ Catherine took a gulp of her tea.
‘In other words, you are not sure at all?’
‘I know I don’t love Liam the way a woman should love the man she means to marry.’
‘But you can’t settle for being a fancy piece to that Boyo Hopkins, Cath, you are too good for that. Anyway, it seems sure now that he’s gone back to his wife.’
‘It’s only gossip, though, isn’t it? Boyo is kind, he would not turn his back on his responsibilities, I know that. It doesn’t mean he is living with her again.’
‘Sorry to tell you this, love,’ Doreen said, ‘but talk is, she’s fallen for a baby again. I can’t believe it but there, nature is a funny thing.’
Catherine rubbed at her eyes, suddenly weary. Pain and shock ebbed and flowed like a tide through her veins and it took all her control not to rant and rave and cry that Boyo was hers, he would not go back to his wife, he would not go to her bed, she would not believe it.
‘You’ll get over him, love, you know you will.’
‘Perhaps I will. All I know right now is that I can’t marry Liam and go to live in Ireland.’ Catherine’s voice was hoarse.
‘Well, you’re young yet, there’s time enough for you to meet some nice boy.’ Doreen spoke comfortingly. ‘I made the mistake myself of rushing into marriage, I thought Meadows was the cat’s whiskers but I soon found out that the old bastard had claws.’ Doreen smiled. ‘Still, I’m happy enough now. Come on, eat your supper while it’s hot. I can fill you in on all the gossip later.’
Catherine made a pretence of eating, her mind was numbed, her journey had been more tiring than she realized. Soon, she would fall into bed and sleep and try for a few hours to forget how unhappy she was.
As the days passed, Catherine settled into the routine of the emporium working in the millinery department with Doreen and soon it was as if the few days she’d spent in Ireland had never been. She tried to erase from her memory the sight of Liam’s face, white, drawn with pain, telling herself it would never have worked, such a marriage could only fail in the end.
She was becoming adept at fashioning the headgear for the smart ladies of the town, adding touches of ostrich feather set at unusual angles, tying a length of chiffon around the brim, making each design a little different from the last.
In Catherine’s absence, a larger room to the side of the house had been designated the millinery room where she and Doreen could work in comfort. A large window faced the sea and Doreen had placed a fine array of millinery on blocks that could readily be seen by the public.
There was plenty of work, indeed, the millinery department seemed to be doing more trade than the shoe shop. There, the stock grew dusty, standing on shelves far too long, even the sale of leather gloves was down, with only the fine cotton and velvet gloves selling at all.
‘Things are getting bad, by here, you know, Cath.’ Doreen was sitting before a block, shaping a piece of felt with energetic fingers, ‘I don’t like it, don’t like it at all, I think someone is out to ruin Mrs Grenfell.’
Catherine was suddenly cold. ‘Why, what makes you think that?’
‘I got eyes in my head, love. The leather goods are getting out of fashion, shoe styles are changing and we still have all our last season’s stuff. Aye, there’s something going on, I can smell it.’ She tapped her nose. ‘I got a smell for dirty tricks and there’s one going on here all right.’
Catherine studied her friend in silence. ‘You know I had a bad feeling about this Llewellyn Company, could they be letting Mrs Grenfell down do you think?’
‘I don’t know. More competition could have sprung up from somewhere, I suppose. Anyway up, if things don’t get better round here, some of the girls will soon be out of work, you mark my words.’
Catherine wondered briefly if Bethan Hopkins could somehow be influencing the leather market and yet it seemed such a far-fetched idea. Bethan was a vindictive woman, an evil woman but surely she was not that powerful or that vindictive that she would turn against Mrs Grenfell just because she was giving Catherine employment?
‘Excuse me a minute, Doreen, I need to talk to Mrs Grenfell, I won’t be long.’
Doreen looked at her questioningly but Catherine hurried from the room afraid that her courage would fail her, that she might seem foolish and hysterical.
Hari Grenfell was standing in the doorway of the main part of the emporium, Catherine could see her slender figure silhouetted against the sunshine. There were no customers, the girls stood about indecisively and Catherine realized that something was indeed very wrong.
‘Mrs Grenfell,’ she heard her voice tremble a little but she plunged on. ‘I think I know who is behind all this.’
As Hari Grenfell turned to her, Catherine indicated the silent shop floor. ‘I think it’s Mrs Hopkins, she hates me and she seems to hate anyone who helps me in any way. I know it sounds absurd saying it like that but I …’ her words trailed away as Hari nodded.
‘I think you are right, Catherine, it is a conclusion I have been forced to come to myself.�
� She held out a letter. ‘The Llewellyn Company ordered a great deal of stock, the order has now been cancelled.’ She smiled wryly. ‘I have just learnt, a bit late in the day, that Bethan Hopkins’s maiden name was Llewellyn and she is listed at me head of the directors of the so-called Llewellyn Company.’
‘I knew there was something suspicious about that company,’ Catherine said. ‘The trouble was, it was just a feeling, there was no sense to it.’
‘Well, it makes sense to me now, I should have realized that when Bethan Hopkins threatened me, she meant every word she said. She is a very powerful woman and I underestimated her.’
‘I must leave at once,’ Catherine said quickly. ‘Perhaps if she thinks you have dismissed me Mrs Hopkins will leave your business alone.’
‘No!’ Hari’s tone was firm, controlled. ‘No, I will not have anyone dictate to me how I should run my own affairs. This is nothing short of blackmail and I will not submit to it.’
‘But, Mrs Grenfell, it would be better if I went.’
‘I don’t think so.’ Hari Grenfell shook her head. ‘I don’t think it is as simple as that. Bethan Hopkins has me in her sights, whatever I do now, she is determined to bring me down. Well, I have no intention of allowing it.’
She smiled and placed her hand on Catherine’s arm. ‘Don’t worry, I mean to ship the old stock of leather goods to Bristol. Clarks have planned a big shoe fair in Somerset, they have invited shoemakers from all over the country to bring stock. At least it’s a chance to recoup some of the losses. Go back to work, Catherine, and let me worry about the business.’
Reluctantly, Catherine returned to the millinery room. She did not see the pieces of velvet, the floor strewn with discarded feathers, the blocks that stood like disembodied heads upon the shelves, she was thinking about Bethan Hopkins, wondering at the woman’s capacity to hate.
‘What’s wrong, then, Cath? Come on, out with it, you can tell Doreen anything, you know that.’
Catherine sank into a chair and idly picked at a piece of straw that had come away from the crown of one of the hats. ‘I know who is doing this to Mrs Grenfell and it’s all my fault.’
‘What are you on about, how can this be your fault?’
‘It’s Bethan Hopkins, she hates me, she’ll stop at nothing to hurt me. Anyone who helps me gets into trouble, can’t you see it?’
‘Oh come on, love, it sounds a bit daft doesn’t it?’ Doreen had plenty of common sense but very little imagination.
‘Mrs Hopkins is behind the Llewellyn Company, she used the name to ruin Mrs Grenfell.’ She rubbed her eyes tiredly. ‘She took my lands away from me, she had Liam arrested for theft. Then, to cap it all, Liam’s farm was poisoned, the land ruined. What will she do next?’
‘Well, it do sound a funny business put like that.’ Doreen chewed her lip. ‘But don’t worry, now that you and Boyo Hopkins don’t see each other any more Mrs Hopkins will try to put it out of her mind, forget it happened, make her marriage work. I don’t want to rub it in, Cath, but if Mrs Hopkins is having a kid she got more important things to think about now, hasn’t she?’
Catherine felt a pain that began low in her stomach and rose to her throat as if to choke her. For a moment, she could not speak. It made her sick to think of Boyo going to his wife’s bed.
‘Look, love,’ Doreen spoke softly, ‘this is all beyond you and me; if this Mrs Hopkins is out to get at Hari Grenfell then it’s up to them to sort it out between them. The old witch will have met her match in Mrs Grenfell, I’m telling you.’
‘Perhaps so.’ Catherine picked up a hat in dark velvet, the material shimmered as she turned it in the light and she knew it would need very little decoration. ‘I’d better do some work, I suppose. As you say, if I try to interfere, I might only make things worse.’
Over the next few days, Catherine tried to clear her mind. To forget about Bethan Hopkins, even to forget about Boyo. If he had gone back to his wife, then Catherine would have no place in his life. Then Hari Grenfell called her to her office and her fears and suspicions surfaced again.
She was not the only one waiting to see Mrs Grenfell, two of the younger girls were there too, standing edgily outside the door. ‘We’re getting the boot.’ One of the girls looked glumly towards Catherine. ‘She don’t want to let us go but she has to, there’s no work for us, it’s as plain as the nose on my face.’
Hari looked pinched and drawn when the three girls entered the office. She fiddled with a pen for a moment and then took a deep breath. ‘I have bad news, I’m sorry but I will have to let you three go. You came into the firm after the others and you are the three who will most likely find work elsewhere. I have made up your wages and all I can promise is that if … when things improve, I’ll take you back, if you still want to come and work for me.’ She did not look at Catherine as the girls filed out of the office.
As she made her way back to the millinery room, Catherine knew that in spite of what she’d said to Doreen about not interfering, she must face Bethan Hopkins, ask her to stop punishing everyone else for what Catherine and Boyo had done. Her heart contracted for a moment in pain, how could she bear to see Boyo living with his wife, a happy couple about to have a child? She swallowed her tears, she was alone, unloved and it was her own fault. Well, she would just have to stop feeling sorry for herself and get on with her life. But first she must eat humble pie, beg Bethan Hopkins to forgive her. It would be difficult but somehow she must find the strength to go through with it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Boyo sat near his wife’s bedside, a feeling of unease tingling along his spine, making his hair stand on end. Something was very wrong with Bethan, she was either very sick or she was, as Cara the maid insisted, possessed.
Possessed, what a foolish idea, she was ill, she was overwrought, she needed to rest, that was all; and yet he failed to convince himself. He had felt a presence in the house that was almost tangible. It was a coldness, a sensation that someone else inhabited the place and that he was unwelcome. It was not that Bethan did not want him, oh, she wanted him all right but it was almost as though the house did not want him.
Bethan opened her eyes, suddenly. Eerily they looked through him, then her gaze seemed to focus on his face. A light warmed her face, she smiled at him and held out her hand. He took it reluctantly. ‘I’m not very well, am I?’
‘You seem a little better this morning, Bethan.’ He spoke unconvincingly.
‘I didn’t sleep very well.’ She sat up and Boyo plumped up the pillows, adding an extra one to support her.
She had dark circles beneath her eyes and her skin was pale, with a sheen of sweat glazing her hollow cheeks. He felt pity tug at him; pity but no other emotion, not love, not even affection. Bethan had changed, she was no longer the woman he had married and he was entirely to blame for that change. And so her helplessness bound him to her, forced him to stay in the house that he hated. But today he felt he must get out of Ty Craig, if only for a little while or he would go mad.
‘I have to ride into Swansea today, business matters,’ he said evenly. Instead of the rebuke he thought would be forthcoming, Bethan smiled.
‘I know you have other things to do than look after a sick wife. Of course you must go, see to your business matters.’
He examined her face for traces of sarcasm but there were none. He felt guilt pour through him and was irritated, why did he allow Bethan to have this effect on him? She had money, resources, she could buy all the help she needed and yet he stayed. He was worried by her thinness, by the way she seemed diminished, shrunken from the fine, humorous woman she had been to a timid dormouse of a person. Had he done this to her with his coldness?
‘I’ll have some breakfast sent up to you.’ He forced himself to speak pleasantly. ‘You must try to eat a little, just to please me. I believe the doctor is going to call later today.’
She nodded. ‘All right. In the meantime, I’ll try to rest, my love, just to please you.’
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br /> He left the room with a sense of relief that was almost physical and hurried down into the gloomy hallway. There was no light in this house, no sunshine, the overwhelming feeling of claustrophobia he felt must be due to the overhanging rocks that perpetually dripped with water, whatever the weather.
A few minutes later, he left the house and moved round to the stables. At least, here, there was some relief from the towering hillside, there was an opening through the rock leading away from the house and Boyo could not wait to ride through it.
The breeze was chill but welcome as he guided the horse and trap cautiously through the outcrop of rocks over the rugged ground, he did not relish losing a wheel and being stuck for hours on the bleak hillside.
While he was in town, he would fetch some supplies, replenish the shelves in the pantry which were becoming bare. It was as though Bethan had no intention of providing sustenance for herself, almost as though she wanted to die, to join the other ghosts that inhabited the house. He repressed a shudder and glanced back over his shoulder, cursing himself for indulging in superstitious nonsense.
Once on the open road, he allowed the animal free rein and as he drew further from Ty Craig, his spirits lightened. Away from the oppressive atmosphere of the house, he was a different man. The situation was becoming intolerable, he could not stay at the house indefinitely nursing an unresponsive Bethan. Perhaps he should find a specialist doctor for her, or a priest who would exorcize the ghosts from the house. He smiled without humour, no self-respecting priest would set foot in Ty Craig.
The streets of Swansea were unusually busy for the middle of the day. He drew the animal to a halt outside Taylor’s Grocery Store, smelling the heady aroma of coffee grounds, knowing suddenly that he needed some breakfast.
He would leave the horse at the stables in Gower Place and take a walk around the town, stop at the Mackworth for something to eat and then later, much later, buy the provisions that Bethan needed.