Sweet Rosie (21 page)

CHAPTER TWELVE

Joe’s absences from home grew more frequent. Sometimes Llinos thought he had taken her cutting words at face value and moved in with the other woman. She had tried to appease him and, on his brief visits home, to talk to him but nothing Llinos said or did made any difference to the way he behaved.

Llinos spent more time at home, leaving the pottery in Watt’s capable hands but even that seemed pointless now. She missed her work. At least it had helped to fill the days that were becoming increasingly empty without Joe. Even Charlotte was running out of excuses for her brother.

The evenings had fallen into a pattern: with Lloyd in bed, Llinos would sit with Charlotte sewing or drawing, both of them making desultory conversation avoiding the topic that was uppermost in both their minds. Llinos found it a strange life for a woman used to working and to sharing her life with her husband.

It was when Charlotte found Llinos crying one evening that she broached the subject of Joe’s strange behaviour. Even then, her words were guarded.

‘Joe will be able to explain himself, just give him time.’ She rested her hand on Llinos’s shoulder. ‘I know it’s difficult for you to understand but Joe is not like other men.’

‘Not capable of being faithful to his wife, you mean?’ She stopped speaking abruptly, there was little point in upsetting Charlotte.

‘It can’t be another woman,’ Charlotte said but there was no conviction in her words. ‘Joe loves you, he loves his son, too. He’s never shown the slightest interest in anyone else. In any case, who could it be, ask yourself that?’

‘You must admit he’s changed, Charlotte,’ she said. ‘Ever since I lost the baby things have not been right between us. These days Joe seems a different man to the one I married.’ Llinos stared into the fire. ‘Do you think he blames me for the baby’s death, Charlotte?’

Charlotte coughed to hide the tears that were forming a knot in her throat. ‘It was a terrible thing you losing your little girl but I don’t see how Joe can blame you. He’s upset, he’s recently buried his mother and that coming on top of the loss of the baby must have affected him deeply. Perhaps we should make allowances for him, Llinos.’

Llinos put down her drawing pad and walked to the window. She parted the curtains and stared into the darkness of the night. The pottery towers loomed in ghostly silhouette against the moonlit sky. A soft rain had begun to fall and ran like tears along the window-panes.

‘Perhaps I’m not prepared to make allowances any longer,’ she said. ‘A woman needs the support of her husband when a tragedy happens. Joe has done just the opposite, he’s left me to wallow in despair alone.’

‘I don’t know.’ Charlotte looked desperately unhappy. ‘I just don’t know what to say to you. I don’t understand Joe any more than you do but he’s an honourable man, we both know that.’

‘Honourable or not, the next time he comes home I’ll make him talk, make him tell me what is going on. He’ll have to give me some straight answers or our marriage is finished.’

‘No!’ Charlotte said quickly. ‘Please don’t issue ultimatums to Joe, I don’t think he would take kindly to that.’

Llinos turned to look at her. ‘And I don’t take kindly to being a deserted wife!’ Her tone was sharp and she immediately regretted it. ‘Oh, Charlotte, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t take it out on you.’ She put her arms around the older woman. ‘Please take no notice of me. I’m a jealous, spiteful woman and right now I don’t like myself very much.’

‘Be careful.’ Charlotte held her hand. ‘Don’t push things too far with Joe, you might ruin what you have with him.’

Llinos returned to her chair. ‘At the moment, Charlotte, I have very little with him, surely you can see that?’

‘I know.’ Charlotte nodded. ‘Just be patient a little while longer, that’s all I’m saying.’ She got up with painful slowness, the wet weather was making her bone ache worse. ‘I’m going to my bed.’ She tried to smile and Llinos realized how fragile Charlotte really was.

‘I’ll come with you.’ She took her sister-in-law’s arm and helped her up the staircase towards the bedrooms.

Llinos was only half-asleep when she heard the bedroom door open. She was immediately alert, breathing in the familiar scent of Joe with a wash of longing. She tried to speak to him, to beg him to love her again but pride held her silent as he crossed the room, walking past the bed without pausing.

The door of the dressing room closed behind him and Llinos let out her breath. It was over; her marriage was dead and it was high time it was buried.

Lily stared out of the window into the small garden of the house in Pleasant Row and watched the rain running down the window-panes. She was grateful to Watt Bevan; he had been kind to her. She knew he did not forgive her for her past mistakes but nevertheless he had found her work at one of the nice houses in Pleasant Row off Broad Street. Lily sniffed; working as maid to the bank manager’s wife was not much suited to her talents but Watt had put in a word for her at the Tawe Pottery and as soon as a vacancy occurred she would be employed there as a painter.

Lily did not like Mrs Sparks; she found her to be a difficult mistress, a woman with a very high opinion of herself. She was expecting a baby and anyone would think no woman had ever carried a child before.

Lily wanted nothing more than to shake the dust of the Sparks’s household off her feet but for now she needed a roof over her head and regular food to put in her stomach. All things considered, coming to Pleasant Row had proved a good move especially as her small store of money was running out.

She had become weary of sharing a damp room with Betty in the run-down lodging house on the edge of town. Betty had cried as Lily packed her small bag and, just for a moment, Lily had felt a pang of guilt at the thought of leaving her there. But still she could not hold herself responsible for the girl; Betty had to make her own way in life.

Lily thought of her bedroom in the Sparks’s house, it was sparsely furnished but at least it was warm and dry and the air did not stink of stale urine and men.

‘Lily, wake up, girl!’ Cook was holding out a basket towards her. ‘You’re supposed to be going shopping down the market, why are you standing there like you was made of stone?’

Lily felt like telling Cook what she could do with her shopping basket but thought better of it. Mrs Johns could make her life difficult if she had a mind to. Lily took the basket and moved to the door just as the bell in the scullery rang out the strident summons. She looked back and hesitated and the bell rang again.

‘Better answer it, girl,’ Mrs Johns called, her voice sharp. ‘Mrs Sparks don’t like to be kept waiting.’

Cook had told Lily how Alice Sparks had come down in the world, pushed into a loveless marriage by a father who could not handle her wild ways. Well, Mrs high-and-mighty Sparks was not a toff now, she was just the wife of a very ordinary man who owned nothing but a position in the bank.

With a sigh, Lily slipped off her coat and walked through the passage to the sitting room. The house was not very big, not much better than Lily’s own marital home had been but that did not stop Mrs Sparks putting on airs and graces.

‘Lily.’ Mrs Sparks sounded petulant. Her condition was not yet showing, her waist as slim as Lily’s, but she was acting as though she was the most delicate of invalids. ‘Bring a footstool for me, there’s a good girl.’

Lily hid her irritation; the woman had called her back for a trivial task that she could easily have done herself. It was Lily’s afternoon off and she still had the shopping to do before she was free to please herself. How she hated the job of waiting on such a spoiled brat of a woman.

‘Lily,’ Alice Sparks said, ‘tell me, why do you look so sad and weary all the time, have you had a difficult life?’ She did not wait for a reply. ‘You’re a widow I understand?’

‘Yes.’ Lily was surprised; Mrs Sparks had not taken much interest in her personal life in the few weeks she had worked there.

‘Yes, Mrs Sparks, sadly, I am a widow.’

‘Well, then, didn’t your husband leave you provided for?’

Lily shook her head. ‘No. He thought he had,’ she said, coming quickly to the defence of her late husband. ‘Then a long lost relative turned up, a male relative.’

‘Oh, dear, did he turn you out?’

‘I left of my own accord.’ Lily forgot her usual reserve in her anger. ‘He wanted me to behave like a whore!’

‘Oh dear!’ Mrs Sparks appeared shocked and yet there was a strange sparkle in her eyes almost as if she found it all too amusing for words.

‘I don’t think James intended to make money out of me,’ Lily said, but, on reflection, that was just what James
had
intended. Lily was to sleep with men for money, to prostitute herself for James’s benefit. There was a bitter taste of anger in her mouth.

‘Men are mean and cruel, they don’t know the meaning of love. They think you are just there to satisfy their wicked lust,’ she said bitterly.

‘Oh, I don’t think you are being fair, Lily,’ Alice protested. ‘I’m sure the gentleman intended to treat you with respect.’

Lily was about to speak but stopped herself abruptly. There was no sense in letting her tongue run away with her. ‘Well, I felt I had no choice but to leave,’ she said, her head down.

‘Isn’t that always the way?’ Alice said dryly. ‘We women always bear the brunt of a man’s foolish actions.’

Lily imagined Mrs Sparks was talking about her delicate condition. Still, in Lily’s eyes Mrs Sparks was a pampered rich woman with too much time on her hands.

‘Sometimes I think I hate my husband.’ Mrs Sparks’s tone was bitter and Lily was shocked; Mrs Sparks should know better than talking like that about the man who provided her with a home and respectability. Lily longed to be out of the house, to be free for an hour or so. She had agreed to meet Betty; they were going for a rare treat of coffee at one of the houses near the seashore.

‘I don’t suppose your husband left you any inheritance at all then, did he?’

Lily thought of the dwindling store of money she had stolen from James and his companions. ‘I do have a little money,’ she said proudly.

‘Then you should allow my husband to invest it for you,’ Alice said. ‘Perhaps in some worthy charity. I confess to being a little bored with Mr Sparks but, as a bank manager, he has his uses.’ She laughed and Lily thought again how like a cat she looked with her tiny pointed teeth and her green eyes.

‘Think about it, Lily, your little bit of money, wisely invested, could make you rich. Now run along, I need to rest.’

Lily was late for her meeting and Betty was already seated in the window of the coffee house, waiting anxiously for her to appear. Betty’s broad face broke into a smile when she caught sight of Lily and she warmed to her. Betty was not so bad, a little dull perhaps but she had a good heart. Lily took off her gloves and sat down opposite Betty, leaning forward across the white cloth on the table.

‘Wait until you hear what I’ve got to tell you!’ she said in a sibilant whisper. ‘I don’t think that Mrs Sparks is the lady she makes herself out to be! She told me she hates her husband.’

Betty shrugged. ‘Nothing new in that, love, it’s what most women feel.’

Lily was disappointed, she thought Betty would be interested in a little malicious gossiping but Betty was already looking at the bill of fare, her eyes glowing in anticipation of a fresh hot cake and a mug of coffee.

Alice had been toying with Lily; the girl was so gullible that she had been an easy target. She had been married once but had found the experience most distasteful. Silly girl, she did not know what she was missing.

Still, it would be useful if Lily were to hand over her money. The last thing Alice would do was to give it to Edward. She wanted to amass a store of funds so that she could be independent of her husband. If she waited for Edward to provide the luxuries of life she would wait a long time.

Eynon Morton-Edwards need not think he had got off lightly either; he must be made to pay for his fun. He had got her pregnant and whether he liked it or not she needed help from him. The trick was to find an excuse to get out to see him. Edward thought a woman’s place was in the home, especially a woman in her condition.

When Edward returned home that night, he slumped into his chair and, at once, Alice brought him a drink of porter. He looked at her in surprise. She rarely stirred out of her chair, usually waiting for Edward to ring for the maid.

‘I’m a little restless, darling,’ she said. ‘I think I need something to fill my time.’ She saw him look at her with suspicion; Edward was beginning to know her. ‘Perhaps I could do some charity work. It would at least get me out of the house and I might make some influential friends into the bargain.’

She saw him frown as if considering the matter; his thought processes were so slow she could almost see the wheels turning inside his head. He rubbed his chin and looked at her.

‘What sort of charity work did you have in mind? Nothing too heavy, I hope, not with you in such a delicate condition.’ He could not conceal his pride; he thought his inept fumblings had got her pregnant, the fool.

‘Well, what about a charity for destitute women?’ She stared at him impatiently. ‘That should make me some friends.’

He digested her words. She felt like kicking him: was making a decision so difficult for him? Heaven help his customers.

‘All right in theory but such things cost money and I am in no position to fund a venture of that sort.’

‘Oh I would not expect you to, Edward. No, the idea is to bring money in, not hand it out. I mean to approach prominent citizens of the town and involve them in the work. With my family connections, I’m sure I could fund the whole thing most adequately with donations from the rich. Think how good it would look for you, it would surely advance your position in the bank. The rich men who get girls into trouble will pay handsomely to have them taken off their hands.’