Sea Mistress (50 page)

‘I'd like to talk to you in private,' Matthew said in a reasonable tone of voice which took the man by surprise.

‘On what subject, sir?' The editor moved uneasily from one foot to the other.

‘On the subject of some of the top merchants in the town being involved in illegal trade. I could go to one of your competitors with the story, of course.'

‘No need of that sir, come along to my office, I'm sure we can do business.'

With a feeling of triumph Matthew followed him along the corridor and into a plushly furnished office. He took the big chair set before the desk without waiting to be invited and after a moment's hesitation, the editor took the chair facing him. Matthew leaned forward. ‘I have dates and times and even the amounts of money made from these nefarious dealings, I have names, of course, and all this information is yours – for a consideration.'

‘Have you informed the police?' The editor asked smoothly and Matthew made a wry face.

‘Of course not.'

The editor rose indicating the interview was at an end. ‘I'm sorry, sir, without proof, real, rock-hard proof, I dare not print anything.'

Matthew wondered for a long moment if there was anything to be gained by smashing the man in the face. At last, he contented himself with overturning the desk so that the man leaped back against the wall in fear. ‘Sod you then! I'll go elsewhere,' he said furiously.

When he left the office of the
Gomerian
, Matthew turned into the doorway of the Swan and slumped down at one of the tables. He needed a drink, more than one drink if it came to that. He placed some money on the table and watched as the landlord came swiftly to his side. Money certainly got people's attention. Pity he didn't have more of it, Matthew thought sourly.

He didn't notice the tall, rangy man who came and sat a few tables away from him. In any case, if he had seen and recognized him, he wouldn't have cared. He took up his mug of ale and drank deeply and settled down for the evening.

Across the room, Mac was watching, he had been following Hewson for some time. He'd seen him go into the offices of the
Gomerian
and hoped that the editor had not been fool enough to pay any money over to the man.

Matthew was very drunk by the time he left the Swan and Mac was easily able to catch up with him. Mac was just behind Matthew when he slipped and fell into the gutter and quickly he moved to help him to his feet, dusting down his jacket in a helpful manner before leading him back towards the doorway of the Swan.

‘Let me treat you to another drink, old man,' Mac said smoothly, ‘it seems to me there's a lot you would like to get off your chest.'

Later, as Mac walked along the quiet roadways towards home, he was smiling his slow, triumphant smile; a smile which Arian would have recognized as a sign of Mac's satisfaction of a job well done.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

‘So what have you found out?' Arian was sitting at her desk staring up at Mac in anticipation. She could read him well, he was obviously pleased with himself. He stood, shuffling a sheaf of papers in his hands, his hat tilted back on his head, the usual cigar between his lips. He took off his hat and seated himself opposite Arian, she waited, hearing the muted sounds of activity from the large office beyond her door. ‘Mac, you are a devious old thing, we both know that. Now will you please talk to me?'

‘Marchant has been trading in opium which we knew. Mrs Marchant, it seems, managed to swap the loads so that the
Marie Clare
carried only legitimate cargo on Marchant's last trip. She held back the contraband until her husband agreed to her demands.'

‘I see. Very clever of her, so that's how Bridie got her inheritance back?'

‘Quite. In order to have the opium returned to him Marchant was forced to sign all his assets over to her.' Mac paused to light a cigar. ‘Marchant is probably being held prisoner by his contact, he might even be dead. Hewson was involved but only in a small way. He was given his marching orders, Marchant was not so lucky.'

‘Should we inform the authorities?' Arian asked hesitantly. Mac rose to his feet and placed his hat on his head. ‘It's the only thing we
can
do. We could print, of course but there is no real proof that Hewson is speaking the truth. If he is and the story breaks, it could be Marchant's death knell.' He sighed. ‘I'm off home, this is one problem only you can tackle. See you tomorrow.'

When Mac left the office Arian rubbed at her eyes wearily. She felt jaded and uncertain. Where was her enthusiasm for a story, why was she not prepared to take the matter to the limits, print the story and damn the consequences? Was it that the paper was no longer enough for her? She had believed it to be her whole life, she had even told Calvin so, or as good as. And yet without him she felt empty and hopeless. She was missing Calvin more than she had believed possible, she might as well admit it to herself if not to anyone else.

She rose impatiently and moved to the door, she had work to do. Bridie must be consulted, she must be told about her husband's predicament, given an opportunity to decide the best course of action.

Arian paused at the door of her office and squared her shoulders, she must face the crowded outer office with an air of calm composure. She was determined that to the world she would appear confident, in charge. She opened the door and stepped out into the noise and bustle and the smell of ink that was the life blood of
The Swansea Times
.

‘So the story of your past has had to wait then?' April picked a blade of grass and chewed at it thoughtfully. She looked at Boyo's downcast face and admitted to herself that secretly she was relieved that the day of judgement, as she had come to think of it, had been postponed. Well, I can understand why, Ellie was troubled, worried about her marriage. She will find out something as soon as she can, I know she will.'

‘Look, Boyo,' April spoke softly, ‘it doesn't matter to me who your parents are, I love you for yourself.' She blushed as she spoke and Boyo's face softened.

‘I know that and I'm proud of you.' He shrugged, ‘But I have to know, I just have to know who I really am.'

‘I realize it's no fun to be an orphan, Boyo, I've felt many times that I'm imposing on the O'Conners. Good as Fon and Jamie are to me, I'm not really one of them, it hurts sometimes.'

Boyo put his arm around her. ‘But you have a name of your own even if you don't choose to use it. You are a Thomas, you know who your mam was and you still have a brother living somewhere. I'm out in limbo, I can't seem to settle until I have an identity of my own.'

April changed the subject. ‘Have you heard the gossip that's going round about Mrs Marchant? Her husband missing and her living with a servant up in Clydach, or so they say. What do you make of that, isn't it a come down for a rich lady?'

Boyo shrugged, Well what's important is she doesn't think like that. Live and let live, I say.' He bent and kissed April's nose.

April drew away from him unwilling to let the subject drop. ‘Mrs Marchant was born rich, those sort seem to be able to do just what they like and get away with it, they flout the law in any way they choose.'

‘Do you know much about it then?' Boyo asked and April shook back a curl that had come loose from the ribbons. ‘The law, I mean.' His tone was teasing.

‘I read as much as I can about it, I suppose I could become more interested if I was given the chance.'

‘Why not take it up seriously then?' Boyo asked, ‘I mean why not do as Fon suggests and go to college?'

‘Don't you start that,' April said. ‘If I left Swansea, you'd have forgotten all about me by the time I came back. In any case, all I want now is to be your wife.'

‘What, Mrs Boyo?' he laughed. ‘See, I really will have to find out who my parents were, won't I?'

April rose to her feet and brushed the leaves from her skirt. She looked down across the town to where the sea curved against sands, pale gold in the late autumn sunshine. Suddenly she felt sad, it was the last glimmering of an Indian summer, it had been such a beautiful summer. She had fallen in love, found a soulmate, someone who loved her back. Now, it seemed it was over, all gone like the leaves that had fallen leaving the trees bare.

She shivered and turning to Boyo buried her head in his shoulder. ‘We will be together for always, won't we?' Her voice was muffled so that he had to put his head close to hers to hear what she was saying. She breathed in the clean scent of him and suddenly, she was afraid.

‘Come on, you're shivering, I'm going to take you home,' Boyo whispered against her hair. ‘I don't want my best girl catching a chill, do I?'

As they walked, hand in hand across the fields of Honey's Farm, April knew that she must enjoy every moment she had with Boyo. She hoped that soon he would learn who his parents were so there would be no barriers between them. Suddenly it seemed urgent as though time was slipping away from them.

But that was absurd, they were both so young, so healthy, so full of love and life. And yet the feeling persisted even as Boyo held her in his arms and kissed her and told her he would always love her.

At Glyn Hir the building work was finished. A fresh stack of oak-bark plates stood in the yard and the distinctive smell of soaking leather permeated the air.

Ellie, standing outside in the garden, smiled, it seemed Boyo had taken her at her word, got on with the job and started production immediately. Some of the old leather had been salvaged from the fire but that would soon be used up. It would take three years before the new leather would be ready to sell and until then, she would need to buy in stocks from another tannery simply to keep her regular customers supplied. There would be little profit in it but there was the goodwill of the people with whom she did business to consider.

She went indoors, looked around at the big rambling house that had been her home for five years and knew the time had come to move out. As soon as she could, she would rent a place near the sea until Dan had finished college and then she would go with him to wherever his job led him.

She heard sounds from the kitchen, heard the rise and fall of voices and knew exactly where she would find Martha and Rosie. A cheerful fire roared in the grate and Ellie made straight for it, holding her hands out to the blaze. She looked up to see Rosie and Martha watching her.

‘Soon, ladies, I'm going to start looking for somewhere to live,' she said quietly. ‘I can't stay here for ever more, can I?'

‘I couldn't bear to be parted from you now,' Martha said quickly. ‘
Duw
, what would I do on my own?'

Rosie sighed. ‘I don't know how long it will be before I get married but until then, I'll gladly work for you, wherever you go.'

Martha looked round her, ‘What will you do with this place, Ellie, will you sell it?'

Ellie shook her head. ‘I'll let Boyo live here for as long as he wants to, he's going to be in charge of the tannery anyway so he might as well be on the spot.'

‘That's kind of you, Ellie, very thoughtful, I know Boyo has been working like a Trojan here, getting the place shipshape again.' Martha patted her skirts as though Boyo's head was resting in her lap. ‘Harry and Luke are back in work too, they haven't deserted us for another job. Good men you have there, mind.'

‘I know,' Ellie looked at Rosie. ‘Bring my coat, there's a love.'

‘Going out again?' Martha asked, her eyebrows raised.

‘Afraid so, I have to see Bernard Telforth on business.'

‘There's mysterious,' Martha said, ‘are you going to tell us about it?

‘You'll know, all in good time.' Ellie took her coat from Rosie. ‘I won't be long, keep the fire going in the parlour, it gets so chilly in the evenings.'

Later, as she entered the lobby of Mr Telforth's offices, Ellie wondered what she would learn from him. The old man welcomed her warmly, ‘Sit down, my dear, I hope you are keeping well?'

She took the seat he indicated and leaned forward, her hands clasped together. ‘I need to discuss something with you, Mr Telforth, I'm not sure if you can help or not.'

He looked at her strangely. ‘I think I know what this is about,' he took a file of papers from his drawer, ‘it's Boyo, isn't it, you want to know his real name?'

‘How did you know?' Ellie asked.

‘It was bound to come up sooner or later. Once the boy started asking questions, you would be the first to offer help.' He flipped open the file and glanced down at the information inside. ‘Hopkins, that's his name.'

‘Hopkins?' Ellie said, her throat suddenly dry, ‘how can that be?'

‘Patience, my dear.' Bernard Telforth looked at her over his glasses. ‘You'll have to prepare yourself for a shock.' He paused and then, as though encouraged by her silence, he continued. ‘Jubilee had an affair, a very brief affair many years ago before his unfortunate sickness. The woman left town and in due course gave birth to Jubilee's daughter.' He took a deep breath. ‘The woman contacted me and though I recognized her, I chose to discount her story, she died shortly afterwards.' He looked at Ellie as though trying to assess her feelings. ‘Her daughter, Marian, lived for a long time in Cardiff with an aunt who knew nothing about the child's father.'

‘But how . . . ?' Ellie broke off mid-sentence as Mr Telforth held up his hand.

‘History has a way of repeating itself, the daughter Marian, in the fullness of time also bore an illegitimate child – the one we know as Boyo.'

‘I still don't understand,' Ellie said, ‘I can't believe Jubilee would have left any kin of his to be brought up in a workhouse.'