by Iris Gower
She opened the door of the cabin and went onto the deck. The cold salt breeze stung her face and she was aware that she was suddenly very hungry.
There was no sign of Simples. Arian moved about the deck looking for someone to search for him. She saw one of the sailors glance at her curiously and she lifted her head and moved towards him.
‘Have you seen Mr Simples?’ she asked but the man shook his head uncomprehendingly. She bit her lip. It seemed that most of the crew of the Marie Clare were French and it was possible that the sailor had no idea what she was talking about.
‘Your Captain,’ she said slowly, ‘where is he?’
‘Captain Marchant, he leave the ship.’ The man pointed to the gangplank leading onto the quayside. Arian approached it and looked into the dark waters but the sailor was shaking his head as though to deter her from attempting to go ashore alone.
She fumed impatiently. Where on earth could Simples be? Would he have gone to the calf company without her?
The man brought her a cup of thick black coffee and she nodded her thanks. It was hot and sweet and brought some of the feeling back into her cramped limbs.
It was beginning to get light when Arian decided she could wait no longer. She fetched her bag and took out the address of the calf company. She would go ashore and find out if anyone knew where she could find the offices. It seemed they were here on the dockside somewhere, so it shouldn’t be too difficult to locate them. In any case, she had a suspicion she would find Simples there before her.
Arian edged her way along the gangplank and with a sigh of relief stepped onto the firm ground of the dockside. She looked around, wondering which direction to take and then moved forward impatiently – she had to do something, she couldn’t stand here all day hesitating.
She made her way towards a huddle of warehouses and turning a corner hesitated as she saw a group of sailors laughing together, one of them holding a bottle of wine aloft. He turned as though sensing her presence and smiled down at her, speaking rapidly in French, and reaching out he gestured for her to come forward.
She held out the piece of paper with the address of the company she was seeking but the man scarcely looked at it. Instead, he rested his hand on her shoulder, speaking to her softly, in a suggestive manner that chilled her.
She made to shake him off but he dipped his hand into his pocket and brought out a handful of money making a gesture towards her that was quite graphic in its meaning. Arian stepped back in horror. It was clear he thought she was a cheap stand-up touting for trade. The docklands of France, as those of Swansea, were a place of rich pickings for any woman of the streets.
She shook her head and the man took out more money laughing down at her, and it was apparent from his attitude that he and his friends were the worse for drink.
She strode away and turned to see the man staring after her. He spoke violently in rapid French and Arian looked round to find she was surrounded by jeering sailors.
The men fell back suddenly and Arian was relieved to see Simples come forward. He spoke rapidly to the sailors in French, she heard and recognized the word ‘Gendarmes’ and the men seemed to melt away into the shadows.
Simples turned to her. ‘Arian, things haven’t turned out the way I expected, I’m sorry …’ His words trailed away. Arian didn’t see the police come up behind her. She felt her arms being jerked behind her back. They were one each side of her, two burly gendarmes propelling her forward, uncaring that she was stumbling over the rough stones.
She couldn’t believe it. She was being taken away by the police with little ceremony. Why, what did they think she had done wrong?
‘Mr Simples, what’s happening?’ she called but there was no reply. She was thrust into a creaking carriage and the nightmare journey through the unfamiliar streets began. She was uncomfortable, unable to sit back because of the way her arms were tied and every jerk of the carriage threatened to throw her to the floor.
The journey seemed to last for hours but at last the carriage came to a halt and she was thrust into the roadway. She fell to her knees but was hauled upright by rough hands and pushed forward into the entrance of what appeared to be a police station. Perhaps now, she thought, everything would be sorted out and she would be released.
An official-looking man sat upright behind a desk. His face was impassive as he talked to her in rapid French.
She shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t understand,’ she broke into the tirade, ‘I’m a stranger here.’
The man shook his head and muttered something to one of the gendarmes and then she was being dragged away. Unceremoniously, she was pushed into a cell and the door was slammed behind her with a ring of finality.
She fell against the rough wall and for a moment, lay there dazed. She shook her head to clear it. This could not be happening to her, it must be a bad dream, a nightmare. She’d had so many nightmares in her life this was surely just one more.
As her eyes became accustomed to the gloom, she saw that she was not alone. About twenty other women were crammed into the cell, most of them asleep or unconscious.
A young girl near to her spoke softly in French and Arian shook her head. ‘I don’t understand.’ She heard the desperation in her voice and knew she was near to hysteria.
‘You English?’ the girl said and Arian turned to her eagerly.
‘Thank God,’ she said thankfully. ‘You speak English.’
The girl nodded. ‘A leetle, only.’
‘How long are they going to keep us here? What will happen?’
‘More slow, you must speak,’ the girl urged. ‘I not know much words.’
‘What is going to happen to us?’ Arian said trying to calm herself and speak more distinctly.
The girl shrugged ‘They keep us weeks, two or three, they turn us out then, back to the streets.’
Arian put her hand over her mouth. She couldn’t stay here for a day let alone a few weeks. She forced her trembling limbs to support her and then she called out loudly through the bars of the cell door.
‘Please come and help me! Help!’ she shouted.
The young girl tugged at her arm, shaking her head urgently but Arian was too overwrought to heed her.
‘I must get out of here!’ she called. A man appeared and snarled some words in her direction, and once more the girl at her side tugged her arm.
‘Just let me talk to someone,’ Arian pleaded and her heart lifted in hope as he began to unlock the door. The girl cowered back against the wall, and too late Arian realized the man was not going to help her but punish her.
He stepped inside the cell and, looking with disdain at her, spat on the ground. Without warning he slapped her full across the face and she fell, her head spinning with pain, unable to see for the lights that danced before her eyes.
The next blow caught her kidneys. She was unable to protect herself, as her hands were still tied. She gasped, drawing up her knees to protect her stomach. He rained blows upon her back and her head until Arian felt he would kill her.
She heard the young girl say something and she heard a harsh slap of the flat of the man’s hand on the young face. But he went away, slamming the door behind him, the key grating in the lock.
‘You be good and quiet.’ The girl lifted Arian’s head onto her lap. ‘It will be worse if you make ’im much anger.’
Arian felt one of her eyes begin to close. She drifted off into semi-consciousness, thinking disjointedly that she was a girl again with her father coming home drunk from the public and venting his rage on her.
The darkness that was creeping up on her was welcome and she allowed herself to sink into it with a sense of relief.
It was morning when she woke and for a moment, Arian felt a sense of total confusion. She didn’t know where she was except that the place was damp and the smell around her was nauseating. Then she remembered that she was in a French prison and she sat up abruptly, groaning as she felt the bruises on her face and body.
Arian crawled forward, her legs trembling, and as a wave of faintness washed over her, she realized it was many hours since she’d eaten a meal.
‘Have water now,’ the girl whispered, ‘before everyone else uses it.’
The water felt good on her face though Arian flinched as she inadvertently brushed her bruises. She dried her skin on the hem of her skirt and then sank down in her corner, thinking ruefully that even in this hell-hole there was a sense of guarding one’s own territory.
Some hours later, she was alerted by the sound of the cell door being opened. She felt rough hands drag her to her feet and then she was being propelled into the corridor.
She tried to struggle and was immediately struck across the face so that she fell heavily against the rough stone wall. Hauled upright, half unconscious, she was half pushed, half dragged up a flight of stairs and led along another corridor. Then she was in a bare room with Simples standing looking at her in concern.
He spoke rapidly in French to the gendarme who seemed anything but discomfited by the tirade. He shrugged and replied laconically.
Simples untied the ropes that bound her and then held her in his arms. Arian was too exhausted, and too grateful for his presence, to protest.
‘Thank God, I managed to talk some sense into these foreigners,’ he whispered. ‘They intended holding you on charges of fraud, something to do with the calf company.’
Arian clung to him, still not fully conscious, her head aching, her body sore and bruised. She heard Simples continue speaking without fully understanding what he was saying.
‘I’ve had to tell them that you are my responsibility, that I will take charge of you, otherwise they are not willing to release you.’
He put his finger over her lips as she would have spoken. ‘Be careful, I’m not sure even now they believe me that you are innocent or that you know nothing about this company. All you did was to give them an order for calf.’
Arian leaned against him wearily, resigned to allowing him to sort everything out for her. It should have surprised her that Simples spoke very good French but somehow it didn’t. Nothing about him surprised her any more.
A man in plain clothes entered the room and spoke to Gerald in French. Gerald nodded, obviously agreeing to something the man was saying and quite suddenly, the gendarme standing to attention became almost festive in his attitude. He smiled at Arian and shortly a woman came in carrying the bag Arian had brought ashore.
She was led to a washroom, given a clean towel and some of her own clean clothes. She washed and changed with little enthusiasm. A quick look in the cracked and damp-speckled mirror was enough to show her that her eye was swollen and black and she was looking far from her best. But at least they were releasing her, doubtless the authorities had seen the error of their ways and were trying to make amends.
She was taken back to the bare room and saw that a priest had joined the company. He scarcely looked at her bruised face and seemed engrossed in the papers the gendarme was holding before him.
‘What is it?’ Arian whispered, as Simples came to her side and shook his head. ‘Just say what I tell you to and then we will be out of here,’ he whispered urgently.
The priest stood before them and spoke some words. Arian listened in bewilderment. Was she being asked to swear that she was not guilty of fraud? She didn’t care – so long as she was let out of the prison she would say anything they wanted her to.
She clumsily repeated the words Simples spoke. Her tongue felt thick, she felt faint and ill, her head ached intolerably and all she wanted to do was to lie down somewhere where it was quiet and dark and comfortable.
It was only when her lifeless hand was lifted and a ring slipped onto her finger that she realized what had happened; she had married Gerald Simples.
She would have pulled away but he held her fast. ‘Hush, it’s the only way out of here,’ he warned. ‘If I’d refused to marry you we might both have been kept in prison.’
He held her close to him and spoke in her ear. ‘Remember, we are in a foreign country, their ways are not ours.’
Arian’s feelings were in turmoil as she allowed him to lead her out into the street where she breathed in the fresh air with gratitude. She saw the gutters were being hosed down with water and the shops were slowly opening their doors. Everything seemed strangely unreal, like a bad dream.
Simples helped her into a carriage and then they were heading away from the police building and towards the outskirts of the town. The sun was lightening the sky, it promised to be a beautiful day. Arian suddenly began to cry. Here she was sitting beside a man she disliked with his ring on her finger.
She looked up at him, challengingly. ‘You always wanted this, didn’t you?’ she said. ‘It’s all your fault. I hate you. I’ll never forgive you for this.’
‘Don’t be absurd,’ he said sharply. ‘Did I ask you to go ashore alone? You were safe while you stayed aboard ship. I would have sorted everything out for you if you’d only given me time.’
He was right and she knew it. ‘Well there’s no chance of me coming into your bed,’ she said in a low voice. ‘You might have married me but you can’t make me do anything against my will.’
‘Do you think I wanted to marry you like this? I have some pride, though you don’t seem to realize it,’ Simples said coldly. ‘You must come to my bed of your own free will or not at all.’
‘Well you can guarantee it will be not at all,’ Arian said drawing as far away from him as she could.
When the coach stopped outside a small squat building near the docks, Simples helped her down. ‘Behave as naturally as you can,’ he said. ‘We have to stay in the country until matters are cleared up and if you venture out alone again I won’t be responsible for you. Do you understand?’
Arian nodded and allowed him to help her from the coach. ‘I will mention that you had a nasty fall,’ he said calmly. ‘That will explain your bruises.’
‘How long do we have to stay here, then?’ Arian asked apprehensively and Simples looked at her with raised eyebrows. ‘Until we have sorted out the stock of missing calf and found out just who is guilty of fraud.’
The motherly woman who opened the door to them clucked in sympathy as Simples made an excuse about Arian’s injuries. She spoke in rapid French and Gerald took Arian’s arm. ‘Come along, Mrs Simples,’ he said evenly, ‘let us find our room.’ He led the way up a creaking staircase to a sun-filled bedroom.
Arian looked in dismay at the big bed and tried to quell the rising tide of fear that threatened to overwhelm her. She was trapped here in France, married to Gerald Simples and tonight they would spend the night together in this room. Would he be true to his word and leave her alone or would he turn in the night and force himself upon her?
She sank onto the multi-coloured quilt and stared down at the floorboards. It was as if her strength had deserted her. She seemed no longer in charge of her life and somehow it didn’t seem to matter what happened to her now; she felt tired and ill, she had been imprisoned and beaten and all she wanted to do was sleep. She curled up on the bed and closed her eyes. Her body ached, her head felt on fire. If only she could sleep then everything would be all right, the nightmare would go away.
She was aware of a hand on her brow and opened her eyes with difficulty.
‘You are going to be all right,’ Gerald was leaning over her. ‘I’m your husband and I’m going to take care of you. There is nothing for you to worry about.’
Arian turned her face into the pillow and wished she could die.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Eline stared through the window at the women who’d gathered outside the shop. They were pointing and gesticu
lating, their faces accusing, angry. Eline unconsciously squared her shoulders; it was clear that news of Calvin’s divorce proceedings against her was now common knowledge.
Quite how such information spread so quickly among the poorer quarters of the town she didn’t know but then bad news had a way of travelling swiftly. She and Will would have to prepare themselves to face the barrage of antagonism and abuse usually heaped on those unfortunate enough to have their mistakes aired in public.
Calvin would come out of it all mainly unscathed. He was now a free man, there would be not a spot on his reputation. He was aggrieved, the injured party, betrayed by the wife who had cuckolded him. Eline could see the headlines in the Cambrian as though they were there before her, already in print: ‘Shameless woman bears a child by her lover and flaunts her faithlessness in her husband’s face.’
No doubt the townspeople would say she deserved to be cast from polite society, and scorned by her neighbours, never mind that since their parting Calvin had done his own share of flaunting of women. He’d been frequently seen with his paramour in public but then there was one law for men and another for women. Calvin had not feared to take that awful Daphne woman anywhere he chose, yet he was seen as the wronged one and Eline as a woman who deserved to be ostracized.
She felt Will come up behind her and slip his arms around her waist. ‘Don’t worry. In a little while we’ll be able to get married,’ he said softly. ‘The gossips will forget, they always do. There will be something else to occupy them soon, you’ll see.’
She turned in his arms and buried her face in his shoulder, her heart was thumping in fear. ‘Perhaps they won’t ever forget, perhaps they will never buy shoes from us again.’
‘Don’t worry so much,’ Will urged. ‘The gossip will pass, you’ll see. Remember, my darling, we are together, free. That’s all that matters.’