Sweet Rosie (16 page)

In his youth he had been something of a weakling; he had been bullied and once even beaten half to death. Now as a man, he was determined to keep himself in good shape, facing the world with his head high. He was a good friend and perhaps she should take his advice. He had told her to let Joe be, allow him to find his own way through his problems.

She sighed heavily. She had better leave Joe alone; he would come when he was ready. But why did he blame her for the rift that had opened between them? She had done nothing wrong, she had only cared for her family and for her business, surely she did not have to apologize for that?

Joe went away on business trips and she made no complaint about his long absences. Joe was his own man, he had money from his father’s estate and need never work again but he could not be content with sitting around idling his life away in coffee houses and public inns. She respected Joe for that, why could he not respect her wish to work?

She shook off her feeling of gloom and went upstairs to Lloyd’s room. Her son was sitting on the bed, swinging his legs, his feet connecting with the legs of his bedside table. ‘Lloyd, please don’t be such a crosspatch.’ She sat on the bed beside him. ‘I miss Daddy, too, but he’ll come home when he’s good and ready.’ She smoothed back Lloyd’s hair. ‘You know he goes away on business quite a lot, you’ve never complained before.’

Lloyd looked at her. ‘You’ve sent him away!’ he said. ‘You don’t love my daddy any more.’

‘That’s not true, love.’ She drew him into her arms. ‘Look, your father and I had words. Everyone gets cross sometimes. I know I shouldn’t have come home without Daddy but grown ups are silly sometimes, just like children.’

‘I’m not silly,’ Lloyd said. He was so serious, so unlike his amiable self that Llinos held him away from her.

‘Lloyd, are you sick?’ He was paler than usual, his eyes smudged with shadows. She had been so wrapped up in her own unhappiness that she had not taken enough notice of her son. Was this the sort of behaviour Joe had been complaining about?

She put her hand on Lloyd’s forehead; it was hot and dry to touch. Could he be coming down with a fever? she wondered. It had not been long ago that whooping cough had swept through the town, the wet months of autumn turning into the cold of winter with little effect on the illness. Now, even with the coming of spring, there were still repercussions. Some of the children in the area had been left with a weak constitution after the epidemic.

‘Where’s Eira?’ Llinos moved to the door and called out across the landing for the governess. Eira had suffered from the whooping cough herself, so she would know if Lloyd was sickening for it.

Eira came at once. ‘What’s wrong, Mrs Mainwaring?’ she asked, her eyes going to the boy sitting on the bed. ‘Is Lloyd expecting a lesson? I thought he was finished for the day.’

‘I think he’s sickening for something,’ Llinos said. ‘Take a look at him. I think it might be safer to call a doctor, anyone so long as it’s not Dr Rogers.’ Llinos shuddered; she still had not forgotten the man’s coldness when her dear baby had died.

Eira felt Lloyd’s brow in much the same way as Llinos had done and then took some cold water from the basin on the table and patted it over the boy’s face.

‘I’d give him a drink of soothing cordial,’ she said. ‘See how he is in the morning.’ She shrugged. ‘With children, a hot brow and a sickly feeling can be gone in a matter of hours.’

‘You don’t think it’s the whooping cough?’ Llinos asked. Eira smiled, shaking her head.

‘If Lloyd had the whooping cough he’d be barking his head off by now. Don’t worry, Mrs Mainwaring, you’ll see, he’ll be fine in the morning.’

But Lloyd was not fine. Llinos, awake early as always, looked in on her son before going down to breakfast. Lloyd was asleep but it was not a natural sleep. His breathing was ragged, his face mottled. He was a very sick child indeed.

‘Joe! Where are you?’ Her voice was full of anguish and it seemed to echo in the silence of the bedroom. Once he would have sensed her need, come to her; what had happened to the closeness between them? How could one foolish argument lead to this separation? As Llinos held Lloyd’s hand, waiting for the doctor to call, she knew it was not as simple as that. The argument had just been the culmination of Joe’s frustration. He was a deeply troubled man and she had been too selfish to notice it.

When the doctor came, he seemed young and presentable. He examined Lloyd and prescribed an hourly purge of the bowels and suggested that a warm fire be lit in the bedroom. ‘It’s just a childhood fever, dear lady,’ he said. ‘Nothing to worry about.’

Llinos thanked him, her heart heavy. She knew enough from Joe’s teachings to realize what the doctor suggested would only make Lloyd worse.

When the doctor had gone, Llinos flung open the window to allow the fresh spring air into the room. She called Eira and told her to keep applying cold cloths to Lloyd’s face and body.

‘But, Mrs Mainwaring, the doctor said . . .’

‘I know what the doctor said but I don’t agree with him.’ She looked at Lloyd: his eyes were still closed and his face flushed. ‘Go back to your room, Eira,’ Llinos said. ‘I’ll stay with my son.’

The day dragged on endlessly. Llinos kept Lloyd as cool as possible, bathing his head and body. She felt anxious because he was not able to eat but, following Joe’s methods, she gave her son plenty of cool drinks.

Joe, why did her thoughts always come back to Joe? But she knew why, he was part of her, woven into the fabric of her being. She would always love him so why had she allowed a distance to grow between them? She closed her eyes and concentrated her mind towards him, begging him to come home. If there was a spark of the old Joe left in him, he would sense her need and come to her.

He did. It was evening when Llinos heard the rumble of wheels outside the house. She felt her heartbeat quicken, she knew without being told that Joe was home. She got to her feet as she heard his footsteps coming up the stairs, her hand pressed against her chest. And then he was there, taking her into his arms, holding her.

‘It’s Lloyd,’ she said against his chest, ‘he’s sick.’

‘I know but don’t worry, he’ll be all right.’ Joe released her and sat on the bed beside his son. He touched the boy’s face and neck and slid his lean golden hands over Lloyd’s body. At last he looked at his wife.

‘You have done a good job, our son is on the mend,’ Joe said. And all Llinos could think of was that Joe had heard her silent plea and he had come home.

CHAPTER NINE

‘Hortense, just let me speak to you, please!’ Binnie stood in the doorway of his house, staring at his wife’s set face. ‘Can’t I even explain how I loved you too much to tell you the truth? I was so scared of losing you. Can’t you even try to forgive me?’

Hortense stared back at the man she had believed in for so long, the man she’d thought of as her husband. The knot of pain and anger was still there as she thought of the way he had deceived her. How could he dismiss it so lightly? He had sired three children with her, knowing they were illegitimate; how dare he come here snivelling to be forgiven? But she would have to speak to him; there were matters to be resolved between them.

‘Come in,’ she said but there was no welcome in her voice. He followed her into the shade of the house, nodding to the maid, looking around him as though he wanted to drink in everything that he had lost because of his lies. Hortense would have waited for him; if only he had told her the truth, they could have found a solution. Now, all she could do was to try to minimize the damage to her children.

‘So far,’ she said coldly, ‘Daddy doesn’t know what’s going on here, all he knows is that we have had what he calls “a spat”!’ She frowned. ‘Some spat, Binnie,’ she said. ‘Do you know what you’ve done? You’ve ruined my life.’

‘Hortense, please, honey . . .’

‘Shut up!’ she said harshly. She closed the door. ‘Now listen to me, we are going up country, we are going to see a preacher and we’re going to be wed, properly.’ She held up her hand as he made a move towards her. ‘No! I don’t want you near me, Binnie, do you understand?’ She paused for breath, fighting back her tears.

‘I want my boys to have a legitimate father and that is the only reason I’m doing this. Once we’re wed, you can get out of my life for good, do you understand?’

‘I love you, Hortense,’ he said and he sounded desperate. ‘I’ve always loved you.’ He stood hands to his side; he seemed lost, defeated. Was that an act too?

‘I suppose you told your wife that, did you?’

He shuffled his feet and she stood waiting, not letting him off the hook. ‘Well?’

He sighed heavily. ‘It was a mistake.’ He shook his head. ‘I was young, I didn’t really think things through. As soon as I got married I knew it was the wrong thing for me to do. I knew even then it would never work.’

‘And what about the wife and child you deserted so callously?’ It hurt unbearably to think of Binnie, her man, in the arms of another woman. She could picture him in the church, making vows he never intended to keep. He opened his mouth to speak.

‘Don’t talk about the past!’ she said. ‘It was never my intention to let you make excuses. All I want is to put things right. To be a legal wife not a whore.’

She sighed. ‘For now,’ she said, ‘you can sleep in the back bedroom. If you stay down at Mammy’s house folk will only talk.’

His face lit up but Hortense hardened her heart. ‘That does not mean you are coming home to live like before.’ She glared at him. ‘You are not getting into my bed!’ she said. ‘You don’t touch me, not ever again, understand?’

He was willing to agree to anything. Hortense felt a great sadness as she looked at him. She believed he loved her; she had felt his love wrap around her on nights that would have been cold and lonely without him. But to him she must have been a golden opportunity to live a life of ease. He had everything to gain, everything provided for him by his wife’s daddy. But she was not his wife, she reminded herself numbly.

‘In a few days you can go up river, find a preacher man who does not know me or my family.’ She swallowed hard. ‘It won’t heal things between you and me so don’t think that. Nothing alters the fact that you sired three bastards!’

Binnie was white-faced; he loved the boys, didn’t he? And yet he could leave his legitimate child, walk away from his daughter without compunction. He was weak, a man ruled by greed, and she hated him.

A week later they were married. When they returned home from the trip the family were gathered to have a party. Food was spread out on the pristine cloth in the dining room and her family were done up in their Sunday best ready to greet the couple who had gone away to patch up their quarrel. If only they knew.

Jo hugged her. ‘You’ve done the right thing,’ she whispered. Josephine was the only one of her family who knew the truth but how long before John Pendennis got himself drunk and told the whole neighbourhood?

There was a flurry of greetings, kisses and hugs, and Hortense felt as though she was acting a part, the part of a happy wife. What a farce it all was. Melia was sitting quietly in the corner and John was on the other side of the room, as far away from her as he could get.

The rat! Hortense thought. He had sown his wild oats with Melia, had betrayed his wife, and now he was acting as if nothing had happened. Why hadn’t Jo got shot of him?

‘I can’t,’ Jo said reading her thoughts. ‘I’m going to give him another chance.’

‘Why?’ Hortense asked, her voice low. Her parents were talking to Binnie, engrossed in conversation.

‘I’m pregnant,’ she said. ‘It’s what I’ve been longing for, you know that. Perhaps if we have a child together John will change.’

Hortense doubted it; being a father had made no difference to Binnie, none at all. But she smiled at her sister and squeezed her hand.

‘You’re right, hon, you stick it out. I’m sure John’s had such a fright that he won’t do anything like it again.’

Josephine smiled. ‘I’m sure he won’t,’ she said. ‘I’ve told him if he strays again I’ll cut his balls off!’

Hortense found herself smiling in spite of her misery. She hoped Jo could tame John, could stop him running round after women like a stray tomcat. But one thing that could be said in his favour, at least he had not committed bigamy. Men were men; look at her father. Perhaps she could have forgiven Binnie for a fling with another woman but his deceit went much deeper than that.

The boys were happy to see their mother and father together again. The younger ones came into the room and flung themselves at Binnie whooping with joy. Only Dan, the eldest, stood back, his expression guarded. He was a sober-minded boy, very adult for his age, and Hortense wondered how much of the situation Dan understood.

She ate very little of the party food and after a while she found the atmosphere stifling. She wandered out onto the porch and sank into the rocking chair. She felt like a very old woman, a woman whose life was over. She longed to cry but she had to keep up the pretence that she and Binnie were reconciled. She looked up when Mammy joined her.

‘You’re not a happy little girl, are you, hon?’ Mrs McCabe was not a woman easily fooled.

‘I’m all right, Mammy,’ Hortense said. ‘I suppose the honeymoon had to be over some time.’ She looked at her mother. ‘How did you feel the first time you knew about Daddy’s women?’

‘Ah, so that’s what this is all about, Binnie been sowing some wild oats, has he?’ She seemed quite relieved. ‘Well, we women don’t like it but they is men and men sometimes act like goats, you jest gotta get used to it.’

Hortense did not bother to correct her mother. ‘But, Mammy, how can you bear to think of Daddy sleeping in the arms of another woman, deceiving you an’ all?’

Her mother laughed. ‘He never deceived me, not for one little ole minute, hon! I knowed what he was up to from the word go.’