by Iris Gower
‘I’m not trying to prove anything.’ He pulled her into his arms. ‘I’m just trying to kiss a beautiful woman.’
His mouth was hot and urgent on hers and Shanni’s resistance melted. She leaned against him, wanting the moment to go on for ever. She knew it was wrong, but a kiss was not really a betrayal, was it?
His arms encircled her and he pressed her closer to him. She knew he was aroused, and disentangled herself from his arms. ‘We shouldn’t be doing this, Dafydd.’
His arms dropped to his sides. ‘You’re right, but you look so desirable. And you want me so why fight it?’
He had read her correctly and, anyway, what harm would it do? He was touching her again, his hands slipping from her shoulders to her breasts. Her breathing became ragged, and she stopped thinking about anything except how wonderful it was to be in Dafydd’s arms. This was what she had wanted for years.
They did not undress. He drew her onto the floor of the office and Shanni knew there was no turning back, not now. He took her quickly, with finesse, his touch gentle, but Shanni was disappointed: she found herself yearning for her husband’s vigorous love-making.
When Dafydd rolled away from her, she began to cry. He cradled her in his arms and smoothed back her tangled hair. ‘What’s wrong, little Shanni? Didn’t I please you?’ He kissed away her tears. ‘I was too eager for you but we can easily put that right.’ He touched her breast but Shanni pushed him away.
‘You’re playing with me. You’ve always known I thought myself in love with you.’
‘And now you know different? Aren’t you still in love with me just a little bit?’
‘I don’t think so.’ Now that she had lived her dream and been possessed by him, she was not sure that she had ever loved him. She straightened her clothes. ‘That was the first and the last time, Dafydd. This must never happen again.’
‘But it was so wonderful – how can it be wrong?’ He touched her hot face. ‘Don’t feel guilty about it, Shanni. What we did was natural and it was what we both wanted, wasn’t it?’
‘What we did was wrong, Dafydd. We’re both married. How can I face Pedr when he comes home?’ She pushed him away. ‘Oh, it’s all right for you! A man is easily forgiven when he beds another woman, but the womenfolk suffer every time.’
Shanni remembered her mother, poor Dora, victim of an affair with a married man and reviled for it. And Llinos, people talked about her: she was no longer fit company for the respectable matrons of the town. By giving in to her lust for Dafydd, Shanni had become just like them: a harlot. ‘I’ll be an outcast in Swansea.’ Shanni tried to gulp back her tears. ‘Folk will say “like mother like daughter” and I’ll be spat on in the street.’
‘No, Shanni, we won’t tell anyone what’s happened here tonight. No one need ever know about it.’
Shanni swallowed hard. Could she live with Pedr, knowing that she had been unfaithful to him? She thought of him, dear reliable Pedr. He loved her so much that if he knew she had lain with another man his life would be ruined. Dafydd was talking sense. It was best to keep their indiscretion between themselves.
‘I’d better go home,’ she said dully. She needed to bathe, wash away her guilt and cleanse herself for her husband. ‘How could I do it?’ Her head rested in her hands. She could not look Dafydd in the face.
‘I’m sorry, Shanni,’ he said gently. ‘I’m so sorry. Had I known you would feel like this I would never have touched you.’
Suddenly she was angry. Dafydd had used her to end his boredom and she, like a silly gullible fool, had let him.
‘Do you think me a whore?’
‘Of course not! If I wanted a whore I could buy one for a few pennies down the Strand. I think of you as a beautiful, intelligent young woman and I wanted to make love to you. Is that so wrong?’
‘I’m going home.’ She picked up her jacket. ‘I’m taking a couple of days off work while I decide what to do. Perhaps I can find my self-respect again if I don’t see you.’
‘I’ll walk home with you.’
‘No. Just stay here or go home to your wife – anything. Just leave me alone.’
The air was cold on her cheeks as she set off uphill away from the pottery buildings. She still could not believe what she had done. Then she became aware that her name was being called and turned to look back over her shoulder.
‘Shanni, wait.’ Katie Cullen was waving to her. ‘We’ll walk with you.’ Bull Beynon was with her, his arms protectively round her waist. There was such a sweet innocence about the couple that Shanni felt even more ashamed of her own behaviour. She waited for them to catch up – she could hardly run away from them even though that was what she wanted to do.
‘What are you doing out alone at this time of night?’ Katie said.
‘I was in the office. I had some bookwork to finish,’ Shanni mumbled, envying Katie her uncomplicated life. The girl was radiant with the first flush of love, and Shanni felt sullied in comparison.
‘Well, Pedr should have come to fetch you, then. Bull met me from choir practice. He wouldn’t let me walk home alone. Still, you have us for company now.’
‘I’m all right,’ Shanni insisted. ‘Pedr is away, and I’m not afraid of the dark. I can walk back on my own.’
‘We won’t hear of it, will we, Bull?’ Katie slipped her arm through Shanni’s. ‘You must remember how I was accosted by the railway navvies. Do you want the same thing to happen to you?’
Suddenly Shanni felt weary: all she wanted was to get home and crawl into bed.
‘You’re very quiet,’ Katie said. ‘You’re missing your Pedr, aren’t you? I can tell by the expression on your face. You two are so happy together it’s a pleasure to be in your company.’
It was as if Katie was rubbing salt into her wounds but, of course, she had no idea of what had just happened. Shanni changed the subject. ‘How’s the work on the railway going, Bull? I hear there’s a bit of trouble on the tracks, is that right?’
‘Some people are objecting to the with of the gauge but Mr Brunel is a brilliant engineer and everything will be sorted out in time,’ Bull said.
‘And Bull has some wonderful news.’ Katie’s face was rosy with pride. ‘Go on, Bull, tell her.’
‘It’s just that when my stint on this job is done, and the line is open to Swansea, I’m going to train to be a manager.’
‘That’s wonderful, Bull,’ Shanni said, trying to sound enthusiastic. ‘You’re too good for navvying, I’d say.’
‘Well, nothing wrong with a bit of honest toil.’ Bull’s eyes gleamed in the moonlight. ‘But I’d rather toil with my brain than with brawn.’
The journey to Shanni’s house seemed interminable but at last it came into sight. ‘Here we are, then. You’ve seen me home safely now. Hadn’t you better be getting back to the Morton-Edwards place before you’re dismissed?’
Katie laughed. ‘Mr Morton-Edwards is a real gentleman to work for. In any case, he’s met Bull and he approves of our . . . our friendship.’
Shanni could not face Katie and Bull any longer. She wanted to get indoors and shut out the world. ‘Thanks for keeping me company, both of you.’ She forced a smile. ‘I’ll see you again soon, I’m sure.’
‘Shall we come in with you for a while?’
Shanni touched Katie’s arm. ‘Thank you but no. I’m not a little girl, I’m an old married woman, remember?’
She watched as Katie and Bull walked away arm in arm along the cobbled road. Then she went inside the warm darkness of the house she shared with Pedr, her haven, her home.
She lit the lamp and the light illuminated the room, throwing the shadowy corners into relief. The fire was almost out but with a little effort Shanni coaxed it back to life. Once the flames were licking up into the chimney, she put the kettle on to boil before dragging the tin bath in from the backyard.
The water just covered the ridged bottom of the tub but Shanni washed scrupulously, trying to flush away the scent of Dafydd that se
emed to cling to her. When she had finished she crouched before the fire and closed her eyes. ‘Dear Lord, forgive me for my sins because I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive myself.’ She sank back on her heels and tears filled her eyes. She had judged Llinos Mainwaring and found her lacking, but now she was as bad. For the first time she understood what Llinos must have gone through, especially when she knew she was having a child.
‘Oh, no!’ She put her hands over her face. What if she found herself with child over the next few weeks? She would not know who was the father.
She emptied the bathwater into the yard and looked up to see a cold moon glaring down at her. She felt that her guilt must be in her face as well as in her heart, that others would see it as plainly as she felt it. She closed the back door and turned wearily towards the stairs. She wanted to sleep, forget what she had done.
The bed was cold without Pedr’s reassuring body beside her, and she knew now how much she loved her husband. She had loved him all along.
‘Oh, Pedr, my love, what have I done to you?’ Deep, painful sobs racked her body. She wanted Pedr to take her in his arms and tell her he loved her. She wanted to put back the clock to change all that had happened tonight. Lying there in the darkness she wondered if she would ever feel clean again.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
‘Now, Dafydd, I will not accept a refusal from you this time. You are coming to see Papa with me and no excuses.’
Dafydd sighed. His wife could be such a child sometimes – she thought she only had to say the word and he would agree to everything she suggested. Still, it was about time he made an effort to get on with Eynon. ‘Very well, I’ll come with you, but if your father starts to look down his nose at me I’ll just walk out.’
‘I’ve talked to Papa and he will be pleasant, so you must be too.’ Jayne smiled coyly. ‘I told him that his grandchildren would not take kindly to a rift between the two of you.’
She had Dafydd’s full attention now. ‘Jayne, are you trying to tell me you are with child?’ His spirits lifted. A son would make his marriage almost happy.
‘No, silly!’ Jayne shook her head, and curls bobbed around her face. ‘We haven’t been in bed together since I last saw my . . .’ She looked at him from under her lashes. ‘But I will leave my bedroom door open for you tonight, shall I?’
‘Yes, of course, darling.’ He kissed her cheek, wishing he could summon some enthusiasm but he found Jayne a bore in bed. She acted like an immature girl, lying quiescent beneath him. Even Shanni Morgan had shown more imagination.
At the thought of Shanni, Dafydd pulled himself up short. He should be ashamed of himself. He had taken advantage of the girl’s infatuation with him. He had no excuse. She was a married woman in love with her husband, and he had been wrong to coax her into betraying her vows.
‘Pay attention, Dafydd, I’m asking your opinion.’
‘What were you saying?’
‘I want you to help me decide what clothes to take over to Papa’s house.’
‘How long are we staying there, for goodness’ sake?’ Dafydd spoke impatiently.
‘We’ll be having tea and I’ll need a day-time gown for that, and then I will have to dress for dinner because Papa is inviting guests. I can’t let you down, Dafydd – what would people think if Dafydd Buchan’s wife was improperly dressed?’
Dafydd did not give a damn what people thought – he had never pandered to public opinion and had no intention of starting now. Still, the proprieties were important to his wife and he forced himself to give her his attention.
‘I like you in all your gowns, Jayne. I know you have impeccable taste so I’ll leave the matter in your hands.’ He paused. ‘I particularly like you in blue, though. It complements your fair complexion.’
He had said the right thing. Jayne dimpled at him, her eyes shining, and suddenly he felt guilty. It took so little effort to make his wife happy so why didn’t he try a little harder? Once he had been caring, considerate of the feelings of others, but as he had grown older he had become more cynical. Just look at the way he’d used Shanni to relieve his boredom.
But life had dealt him some hard knocks: the one woman he wanted was out of his reach, and he could not even acknowledge his young son. He cursed Joe Mainwaring. The man had taken Llinos back but now he had gone off to America, expecting Llinos to live like a nun, a prisoner in her own house.
‘You’ve gone all quiet on me again, Dafydd,’ Jayne said. ‘Is there something on your mind?’
He shook his head. ‘I was wondering how I could get my hands on some railway shares. I wish I’d bought them when I had the chance.’
The look on his wife’s face was a little smug. ‘What?’ he asked. ‘Have you heard anything about the shares – anyone selling out, perhaps?’
‘No, nothing like that. Now, come along, Dafydd, go and get ready or we’ll be late for tea with Papa.’
Perhaps he had underestimated Jayne, Dafydd thought. She was up to something, but what was it?’
‘All right, I’ll be an obedient husband and do as you say.’ He took her in his arms. ‘And I shall look forward to seeing your bedroom door open tonight.’ He kissed her hair. If there was a time to learn any of Jayne’s secrets it would be after love-making. She always seemed quiet, almost subservient, then.
Jayne snuggled into his shoulder and Dafydd felt a rare moment of tenderness for his bride, which pleased him because one day, Jayne, scatterbrained Jayne, would be the mother of his children.
Llinos looked out of the carriage window at the mellow old house belonging to Eynon Morton-Edwards. They had been friends for as long as she could remember and in many ways she loved him, but it was only because of their friendship that she had agreed to join Eynon and his guests at the lavish dinner party this evening.
She felt a tinge of unease in knowing that Dafydd would be there, but it was inevitable that they would continue to meet for he was Eynon’s son-in-law. How comfortable life would be if she could just shut herself away from the world.
As she alighted from her carriage, she saw Father Martin, as plump and angelic as always, standing in the doorway of the large house. ‘I just pipped you to the post, Llinos, my dear.’ He took her hand and kissed it. ‘I must say you look charming as ever. I shall insist that I sit next to you when we eat, and any morsel you leave I shall gobble up. You know what an appetite I have.’
Llinos admired Martin. He might be a clergyman but he was never judgemental: he took people as they were, sins and all.
‘Why are you so kind to me, an outcast among the gentry of Swansea?’ she asked quietly.
‘Well, my dear, if Jesus Christ could make a friend of Mary Magdalene then I can certainly be friends with a lady who has made a few mistakes in life, can’t I?’
Together they went indoors to where two maids were waiting to take their coats. A babble of voices from the drawing room told them of the earlier arrival of other guests, and Llinos froze. Martin put his hand under her elbow and propelled her into the room. The assembled company fell silent, but Eynon broke the spell. He moved towards her, eyes shining with pleasure. ‘Welcome, to two of my favourite people. Come and sit down – we were just going to listen to Jayne play the pianoforte.’
Llinos felt eyes resting on her as she took a seat on the sofa beside one of Eynon’s guests. The man moved closer to her, and Llinos knew what he was thinking: that she was a woman without scruples, an easy target for his dishonourable intentions. She was pleased when Martin squeezed between them, forcing him to move away.
She looked up to see that Dafydd was watching her. He nodded briefly as his eyes met hers, and she pretended not to notice his gesture of recognition.
Jayne seated herself at the pianoforte and as her fingers ran lightly along the keys the soft, haunting strains of Beethoven’s ‘Moonlight Sonata’ filled the room.
Llinos glanced at Dafydd and saw, with a pang of pain, that he was watching his wife as though amazed. Jayne’s fingers flew acros
s the keys, now softly and then more boldly, as she played an expressive passage. She really was talented.
When Jayne finished the sonata Dafydd began the clapping and Llinos bit her lip, feeling the sting of jealousy as she dutifully joined in with the applause.
Eynon went to his daughter and kissed her cheek. ‘You see what a talented daughter I have?’ His face showed his pride in Jayne’s accomplishment. ‘We are to go into dinner now but I will try to persuade Jayne to favour us with some more of her playing later.’
Llinos had been seated next to Eynon and Martin was at her other side. His eyes were already resting on the laden table. ‘This looks good enough to eat!’ he quipped. ‘But, first, let us pray.’
As he said grace Llinos closed her eyes, wishing herself a million miles away. She was getting too old for all this emotion.
Having said grace, Martin was the first to pick up his napkin. His eyes gleamed with unashamed relish as the mutton soup was served, steaming hot and rich with meat and vegetables. ‘Delicious. Do try to eat some, Llinos, it will do you good.’ Then he leaned closer and whispered, ‘You must keep up your strength, my dear Llinos. Don’t let the glares of the old biddies here spoil your appetite.’
Llinos dipped her spoon dutifully into her dish and began to eat. Martin was right: going hungry would not solve anything. Yet she had little appetite: she could not forget that seated opposite her was the man who had been her lover, had fathered her son, and was now with his wife, apparently besotted with her.
She saw Eynon watching her, and when he caught her eye he smiled encouragingly. Eynon and Martin were true friends, and she must learn not to care about the spiteful gossip of other people who meant nothing to her.
‘Martin,’ Eynon said, ‘have you heard that the railway is on course to come into Swansea next summer?’
‘I have indeed.’ Martin popped a slice of pork into his mouth and began to chew industriously. Food was far more important to Father Martin than railways.