Hidden Currents

by Rowena Summers

  It charmed her all over again. Their lives were going to be intertwined in every way, lovingly and professionally, and she couldn’t be happier.

  ‘I think the old boy could have rewarded you with some little trinket for yourself for your part in recovering his property,’ John said.

  ‘The old boy’ … for a minute, Carrie didn’t realise he was referring to Mr Giles Barclay. That was another thing that separated them, she thought wistfully. Giles would always be somewhat god-like to her, while to John, he was simply ‘the old boy’ … and then she saw that he was teasing again, and she grinned back.

  ‘What would I want with trinkets?’ she protested. ‘It was good of him to pay for the vases, and I wouldn’t have wanted anything more.’

  ‘You’re so easily satisfied. Will it always be so, I wonder, or will you turn into a petulant wife who wants the world at her feet?’ he said, still teasing. She stopped in mid-stride, tugging at his arm.

  ‘I will not! As long as I have you, I’ll want for nothing else, ever!’

  It was one of those rare moments when their eyes seemed to hold their souls in thrall. The words had begun lightly, and ended up intense, revealing all that was in Carrie’s heart. John’s voice was filled with barely contained emotion as he answered.

  ‘You’ll always have me, my darling, and if I died tomorrow, I would die happy, knowing that you love me.’

  Carrie shivered, and unconsciously crossed her fingers against such bad luck.

  ‘Well, I would certainly not be happy if you died tomorrow, so don’t you dare!’ she said, and the fragile moment, too poignant to hold in so public a place, was broken.

  They hurried homewards, eager with the tale they had to tell. At the last moment John decided he wouldn’t come inside the house, as he wanted to make sure he was there when the antique vases were delivered to the house on Bedminster Hill that evening. If he wasn’t, the old couple might well think it all a mistake and turn the man away. Besides, he was quite sure Carrie would be very capable of revelling alone in telling how they’d recovered some of the Barclay fortunes, he said dryly. She’d not be tongue-tied about that!

  They parted company at the door, and she went inside, bubbling with news. And then she stared in some shock at the sight of Elsie Miller and a dark-haired stranger, sitting so cosily together on Pa’s settle, and with her Ma and young Henry nowhere to be seen.

  * * *

  ‘This is Dewi Griffiths, Carrie,’ Elsie burst out, before Carrie had a chance to say a single word. ‘His Mam’s died recently, which is why he ain’t been back to Bristol lately. But now he’s back, and we’re getting wed as soon as it can be arranged, and your Ma’s gone off to find your Pa and ask him if he’ll go to the church and put in a good word with Mr Pritchard for us, so’s he’ll see us properly blessed before we go and live in Cardiff in Dewi’s house.’

  She was almost blue in the face by the time she finished, not giving herself a chance to pause for breath. Carrie felt her mouth drop open, and closed it again quickly. The Welshman was quite a personable young man, though he had none of John’s finesse, she thought briefly, since he made no attempt to stand up and shake her hand. But that could be because Elsie was clinging on to his so tightly, she conceded. It was easy to see that Elsie was quite besotted with this Dewi, and dazzled by his unexpected appearance.

  She sat down heavily on a chair beside them, and let out her own breath explosively.

  ‘Well! This is a surprise and no mistake. But I’m happy for you both, if you’re sure it’s what you want.’

  Elsie bridled at once, still the old Elsie at heart, despite her prospective new status as a married woman.

  ‘’Course it’s what we want! Dewi wouldn’t have come back this way to find me again if his intentions weren’t honourable, would he?’

  They both looked at Dewi, who cleared his throat in some embarrassment. He didn’t have to explain himself to this beautiful, if prim-faced friend of his cariad, he thought with faint annoyance, but her approval obviously still meant a lot to Elsie, and what the hell did it matter, anyway? He responded readily enough, with a disarming smile and flashing eyes, still the roguish boyo underneath.

  ‘Me and Elsie always intended being together, see, but when my Mam died I had so much on my mind I couldn’t see my way clear to coming back over here too fast. Your Mam’s been very understanding, love, and we’ve all agreed that it’s best to wed here before I take Elsie back home. Folk are narrow-minded there, see, and wouldn’t understand so well. But we’ll get a proper chapel blessing once we get back to Cardiff, that my Mam would approve of.’

  His Mam and the chapel upbringing still seemed to be very much a part of his life, despite his lusty eyes and even lustier loins, Carrie thought, averting her gaze from the pair of them as the thought entered her head.

  Elsie had never been much of a churchgoer, either, but she supposed all that would be forgotten in the joy of being married to her Dewi. And before her own nuptials too. That was a turn-up, all right. She’d never thought Elsie would tie herself to any one man, let alone one who would take her away from Bristol and into such a strictly chapel environment. But as she’d already found out for herself, love could change everything.

  Chapter 24

  Elsie had been urged to stay at the Stuckey house until the wedding, while Dewi decamped at Elsie’s place. Not even though the nuptials were so near could Ma go so far as to allow them to sleep under the same roof, nor sanction Elsie going back with Dewi. And not even Elsie had dared disobey her in that.

  The ceremony was arranged with all speed, and three days after Dewi’s arrival back in Bristol, the minister had said the marriage vows over the couple, having reluctantly been persuaded into it by Sam Stuckey. At least he wouldn’t have to constantly see the sinners in his parish, the pious Mr Pritchard thought thankfully.

  The Griffiths fellow was just as anxious to get back to Cardiff and show Elsie the neat little Welsh cottage and her new surroundings. The minister had been mollified to see that once the idea of respectability had sunk into both their heads, they were full of activity to get things organised and go back across the Channel.

  Carrie let herself think for a moment that it seemed very convenient for Dewi Griffiths to have a ready-made housekeeper to step into his Mam’s shoes. In any case, if he was expecting that, he was in for quite a shock with Elsie’s slapdash ways.

  But there was no dampening their happiness now. Regardless of the hurried circumstances, it simply shone out of them once the knot had been duly tied. May Stuckey had laid on a small tea for the couple, and then they were to spend the night at Elsie’s old waterfront cottage, before handing over the keys to the landlord the following morning and sailing for Cardiff. She had packed up her bits and pieces, and she was all set for her new life.

  ‘I’m going to miss you!’ Carrie said, giving Elsie a great bear-hug after the ring had been slid onto Elsie’s finger and congratulations were in order.

  ‘I shall miss you too, but you know I ain’t no good at talking soft stuff, so I’m not going on about it,’ Elsie said, her eyes suspiciously moist. ‘I’m just sorry me and Dewi won’t be here for your wedding, Carrie, but we think it’s best if we get on with our own lives now, since we’ve done enough to disrupt yours.’

  It was about the most perceptive thing that Elsie Miller, now Griffiths, had ever said.

  ‘When John gets his new boat and things are settled for us, maybe we’ll be able to come and visit you,’ Carrie said, ‘and you be sure to send a message by somebody at the Welsh Market when the baby’s born. I shall want to know if it’s a boy or a girl, mind.’

  ‘I still can’t rightly believe I’m going to be a respectable Welsh wife, let alone somebody’s mother,’ Elsie confided with a nervous giggle that told of an underlying uncertainty. ‘I’m sure I’ll be no good at it. I don’t have your Ma’s knack, Carrie.’

  ‘Nobody was born knowing how to be a mother, ninny. It comes by instinct. Just l
ook how our Henry’s taken to you these past few days, and he won’t normally respond to folk who don’t like babies.’

  They were all back at the small house in Jacob’s Wells Road now, and in a party mood. Elsie’s small cloud of doubt vanished with a laugh as young Henry Stuckey obligingly put up his fat little arms to her to be cuddled. He’d taken to Elsie with a fervour that almost had Carrie feeling jealous. Elsie bounced him on her knees and cooed to him to make him chuckle.

  Wilf and John stood awkwardly on the far side of the parlour, trying hard to make conversation with Dewi Griffiths over their tea and cake, while Sam had merely stumped off out into the back yard with Billy as usual, on the pretext of feeding the chickens. Those chickens were going to be too fat to waddle at this rate, Carrie thought with a smile.

  But it was a source of delight to her now, that Wilf and John seemed to have forgotten their differences. She doubted that they’d ever be real friends, but at least they tolerated each other, and when John had asked Wilf to stand by him on his wedding-day, her brother had readily agreed.

  It would be so soon now … less than three weeks … Carrie felt a wild thrill of anticipation every time she thought of it. There would be no more partings, no more sweet good-night kisses that had to be cut short because of Ma’s ever-watchful presence, no more ignorance of the final mystery of loving that Elsie had obviously learned so well, and which still lay out of Carrie’s reach.

  Sometimes, in the quiet of these last few nights, turning restlessly in her bed, and listening to Elsie’s snuffling breathing that was so reminiscent of Billy’s, she tried to imagine herself three weeks from now. To imagine how it would feel to be lying warm in John’s arms, and tingling to his slightest touch on her skin, and coming alive for the first time in her life.

  In a way, becoming one with another person was like that, she thought. That first intimate sharing of oneself must be somehow like being reborn. You entered a new dimension of being, no longer the same as you were before, but with a knowledge as old as time, and yet as new as tomorrow …

  ‘Are you all right, Carrie?’ she heard Ma say sharply. ‘You’ve been gazing into space for these last five minutes, and breathing as hard as if you’ve run a mile. You don’t want to get poorly before your own big day.’

  Carrie flinched, thankful that her sane and sensible Ma couldn’t have any inkling of the turbulent imaginings that had been swirling around in her head and filling her loins with a wild and wonderful longing. Or maybe she did. Ma was a married woman too, and therefore would know all about these mysterious happenings inside her own body … she looked away from her quickly, not wanting to associate her own sensual feelings with anyone else, least of all Ma!

  ‘I’m all right, Ma,’ she said hurriedly, ‘I was just thinking that we seem to be parting from so many people. First it was Frank, now Elsie, and soon John’s Aunt Vi and Uncle Oswald will be leaving as well.’

  ‘It’s the way of the world, lamb,’ Ma said. ‘You can’t keep folk tied to you for ever, and it’s only right that young ’uns should move on. It’ll be our Wilf’s turn some time, I daresay, but we’ll still have our Billy and Henry at home a few years longer yet.’

  She ruffled Henry’s curls as she spoke, and the baby beamed up at her from Elsie’s lap, making them all laugh. Days like these were the best of times, Carrie thought, the kind to remember and hold to your heart in the dark days of winter.

  * * *

  The fine June weather was holding up, and John was kept busy for the next two weeks with his tripping excursions in the old boat, with many curious Bristolians and others eager to view the Great Britain and the lengthy widening of the Cumberland Basin Locks to allow her free passage out of the floating harbour where she was still marooned.

  John had arranged for a bit of astute advertising material to be on hand for clients about his forthcoming new and improved tripping boat, the Caroline. As yet, even he still didn’t know when that was going to be, but he wasn’t going to depress Carrie by telling her.

  This old boat was paying its way for now, but it had to be handed over as part of the payment price on the new one as soon as it was ready. It was part of the debt still owing on the Caroline that was giving him headaches, and since Vi and Oswald had paid out all their savings for the Clevedon cottage, neither of them had the kind of money to help him out. In any case, his pride wouldn’t have let him approach them. It was his worry, and nobody else’s. And the actual amount still owing was between himself and Mr Cummings.

  He was obliged to make regular visits to the boatyard to pay whatever instalments he could, which kept his pride intact and kept Gaffer Cummings sweet, even if little work was being done of the boat at present.

  It was late in the afternoon, a week before his wedding to Carrie Stuckey, that he went with a heavy heart to pay what little he could, thinking that her wedding gift was going to be considerably later than he’d hoped.

  To his startled surprise, he discovered that the boatyard was humming with industry, and that it was the Caroline that was getting all the attention. Carpenters and painters and fitters swarmed in and out of it, and as far as he could tell, it must surely be completed and fitted out in a very few days from now.

  He hurried into the Gaffer’s office, his heart thudding hard. If Cummings had merely decided to get on with the work and present him with the bill, there was no way he could pay. It was a common, if unpleasant practice, in a boatyard where work was slack. Then, when the unfortunate client was unable to pay up, the boat was simply claimed as unpaid property, and sold off to the highest bidder. John felt sick to his stomach at the thought of his precious bridal gift ending up in sombody else’s hands.

  Cummings looked up from his paperwork as John went into the office without bothering to knock. He put both hands squarely on the man’s cluttered desk, and wasted no words.

  ‘What the hell’s going on, Cummings? I gave no orders for my boat to be finished, and if you think you’re going to sell her off to the highest bidder —’

  ‘Please calm yourself, Mr Travis, and take a seat,’ the man said sharply. ‘There’s no question of selling off your boat, and my men are working all the hours God made to get her finished for the twenty-eighth of the month as requested.’

  John sat down heavily on the client’s chair without even registering that he did so.

  ‘What request was this? I gave you no such request!’

  ‘I have it here, sir.’ Cummings rummaged among a sea of papers and orders, and silently handed John a letter on heavily embossed headed notepaper. He read the letter with growing amazement.

  ‘To whom it may concern,’ he read,

  For the boat commissioned to the order of Mr John Travis esq, it is hereby requested that the completion date be set at June the twenty-eighth and not one day later. On the surety of this, you will find the enclosed cheque to cover the remaining and outstanding amount payable on the commission.’

  It was signed ‘Giles Barclay’.

  John stared in disbelief. It couldn’t be true. Someone was playing a jape on him. But the sound of the hammering and the smell of fresh paint told him that whoever was playing this jape had certainly fooled Gaffer Cummings to the extent of completing his boat with all speed. And if the cheque bounced …

  ‘Are you telling me you believed this letter to be genuine?’ he said hoarsely.

  ‘My dear sir,’ Cummings said with a shrug. ‘I wasn’t born yesterday. The gentleman came here himself, swanked up to the nines, and paid over the cheque and the letter. Naturally, before I did anything else, I took it to the bank and had it verified, though there was hardly any need, with that particular letter heading. The gent’s loaded all right, and apparently wanted to make a gift of the boat to you and your young lady for some reason.’

  ‘I don’t want his damn money,’ John said, suddenly furious. ‘I earned every penny that’s gone into my boat so far, and that’s the way it’s going to be. You can stop your men working on it right n
ow.’

  ‘Can’t do that, I’m afraid, young sir.’ Cummings shook his head, clearly thinking the other was completely mad. ‘My men have been told this is a rush job, and they’re all expecting to be paid extra for it. If I was to stop ’em now, they’d all go on strike. Besides, where’s the sense in it, when the amount’s already been paid up in full with a bit to spare for all the haste? You go home and be thankful, lad.’

  John went straight to see Carrie. She opened the door to his hammering, to find him practically spitting nails, as Pa would say.

  ‘What on earth’s wrong?’ she began as he pushed past her into the parlour.

  ‘I’ve been taken for a fool, that’s what. I’ll be beholden to no man, and if I can’t pay my way by my own efforts, then I’ll go without.’

  ‘John, are you going to tell me what’s happened?’ she said, stamping her foot.

  Billy went careering out to the back yard to tell Ma there was a commotion going on inside, and Henry started crying in his carriage. Carrie heard none of it. All she could see was John’s blistering anger, and she was suddenly afraid. Everything had been going so well of late, and in less than a week she would be his bride. But this hard-faced man was more reminiscent of the bare-knuckle fighter she’d seen pasting the hide out of BIG LOUIE up on Clifton Downs than of the lover she adored.

  ‘It’s that bastard Barclay,’ he snapped. ‘Thinking he can do whatever he likes with his money, and expecting folk to bow and scrape to him because of it.’

  ‘But what’s he done?’ Carrie almost screamed. ‘You’re making no sense at all, John.’

  ‘He’s gone and paid off the rest of the dues on the boat, and instructed Cummings to get it finished and ready by the twenty-eighth, that’s what,’ he raged at her.

  She stared at him. He was practically breathing fire from his nostrils, she thought. She felt a wild urge to laugh, because it was all so comical and unreal, and he was getting so stupidly upset because of a gift … to someone whose family circumstances had always made them grateful for any small gift, John’s reaction seemed nothing less than insulting.