Sweet Rosie (27 page)

‘Believe it. Oh, Joe won’t desert me entirely, at least I don’t think so, we have a son and though Joe might walk out on me, he would never turn his back on his Lloyd.’

‘Well, whatever’s troubling him, let him work it out by himself. Sometimes pushing too hard has the opposite effect to the one you were hoping for.’

‘Everyone tells me that. But I hurt inside, Binnie, I hurt so much.’ Llinos stared at Binnie for a long moment as if he could provide the answers she was so desperate for. He shook his head sadly.

‘We each have to work out our own problems, Llinos,’ he said. ‘No-one’s life is free of pain.’

‘I know,’ Llinos said softly. She left the shed, with its smell of oxide and tallow, and crossed the yard to the house, a house empty of Joe, the man she loved. Suddenly there were tears in her eyes.

Binnie dipped another pot into the glaze, and watching the thick liquid running over every part of the pot brought a certain satisfaction. At least here in the shed he felt alive, as though somehow working at the pottery brought him closer to his life back home in America. And yet it was an illusion, an illusion that vanished the minute he stepped outside into the cool of the evening.

He missed the sunshine of America, the wild grasses that grew around his house, the smell of honeysuckle, the smell of baking and the singing of the maid at work in the kitchen. If he closed his eyes he could see it all, his home, his garden and the world beyond, the world of West Troy, the place he had grown to love, the place that now meant home. And most of all, he missed his wife and his sons.

Tonight, when he finished work, he would go back to the cheap lodging house, eat a meal of meat cuts and over-boiled potatoes. And then he would spend a lonely night sitting in his room, staring around him at the faded curtains and the worn carpet placed over a loose floorboard. Finally, he would crawl into bed, a cold, empty bed. He had left behind him a world of light and luxury and love and now he wondered if life was worth living at all.

‘Hey, why so glum!’ Watt Bevan touched him on the shoulder and Binnie looked up sharply. Watt was taller than him by several inches; the Watt Bevan who had been little more than a stripling when Binnie left for America was now a mature man.

On his brief visit to America Watt had seemed to be unsure of his future, undecided if he would stay in West Troy or return home to Swansea. It seemed he had made the right decision because now he looked happy and fulfilled.

‘Homesick, I guess,’ Binnie said, placing the last pot of the batch onto a stand ready to be taken to the kiln.

‘I suppose you’re not used to being on your own so much,’ Watt said. ‘So come and have supper with me and my girl Rosie tonight. Pearl, you remember Pearl, well she’s making one of her huge hotpots.’

Binnie toyed with the idea. Though his first instinct was to refuse the invitation, he decided anything was better than spending another night in his room staring at the four walls.

‘That’s good of you, Watt, I’ll be happy to accept your hospitality.’ He wiped his hands and arms on a rag dipped in turpentine. The gloss had run into the material of his shirt and he stared at it in an effort to force away the sense of despair that washed over him. He did not feel like socializing and yet what was the alternative?

‘Yeah, sure, tell me what time and I’ll be there.’ He made an effort to smile. ‘It will be good to eat supper among cheerful company.’

‘Come any time you like. At Pearl’s it’s open house, more like the feeding of the five thousand than anything else but at least you won’t be bored,’ Watt said. ‘I tell you what, I’ll pick you up at your lodgings and take you to Pearl’s house myself, otherwise you might change your mind.’ Watt frowned. ‘I know it’s hard for you coming back here like this. I could break John Pendennis’s neck for him, I never thought he would turn out to be such a bastard.’

The word made Binnie shudder, he could hear again the sound of Hortense’s voice as she accused him of fathering bastard sons on her. And she was right, God help him, she was right!

‘I’m grateful to you, Watt,’ he said, his voice thick. ‘Without this job and the kindness of my friends I don’t think I could survive.’

‘Look,’ Watt said, ‘why don’t you write a letter home?’ He paused. ‘By now, your wife will have cooled down, she will be missing you as much as you are missing her. At least give it a shot, isn’t it worth it?’

Watt was right it would be worth one more effort. Tonight, after supper with Watt, Binnie would go back to the lodging house. He would sit by the rickety table in his room and he would write to Hortense begging her to forgive him. His heart warmed with hope. He would ask her to take him back. He would tell her he would do anything so long as she gave him a second chance. As Watt pointed out, she might have had time to think things out by now.

Supper at Pearl’s house was a noisy affair. The younger children quarrelled over where they would sit at the big scrubbed table. Pearl, who appeared paler and thinner than Binnie remembered, cuffed one of the more boisterous boys and pushed him aside to make room for the large pot she was putting in the middle of the table.

‘Nice to see you looking so well, Binnie lad,’ she said. ‘That man there,’ she nodded to Willie who was plucking the strings of his fiddle, ‘that’s Willie Sharp, say hello then, Willie, where are your manners?’

Willie nodded politely and Binnie smiled to himself, trust Pearl to find another man to love her.

‘Now, you children,’ Pearl’s voice boomed out, ‘let the visitors help themselves first, do you hear?’ Pearl smiled at Binnie, ‘Go on, lad, get some food while it’s hot.’

Watt was helping Pearl’s daughter bring in plates piled with bread. The smell was mouthwatering and Binnie began to feel a little better, here he was among old friends. He saw Rosie sit beside Watt and gaze up at him with naked love in her eyes. A lump came to Binnie’s throat, his own Hortense had looked at him in much the same way, once.

He managed to eat his meal and even to make a few pleasantries about the food but he came alive when one of the younger boys asked him about America.

‘It’s a vast country,’ Binnie said. ‘The sun seems to always be shining and even when it rains, the rain is soft and fragrant. The grasses grow tall and, in the summer, a riot of flowers grow wild and strong with no help from anything but nature.’

‘Is it the land of milk and honey it’s supposed to be then?’ Pearl asked. Binnie looked at her; she was older now but she had the same bright look in her eyes, the same verve for life that had picked her out from the crowd working at the pottery in the old days.

‘All I can say is that I love it there,’ Binnie spoke quietly.

‘Why don’t you go back there, then?’ one of the boys asked innocently. Binnie stared at him and then began to smile.

‘I just might do that, son,’ he said. ‘Now how about another helping of that delicious hotpot, Pearl?’

That night, he sat in his room and stared out of the window. To hell with writing letters! He would take the chance and go back to America and even if Hortense wanted nothing to do with him, he would be near his sons, see them growing up, and make his home in the adopted country that he had grown to love.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Rosie sat patiently at the kitchen table as her mother wound a coronet of paper flowers in her hair. It was her wedding day and Rosie could hardly believe it. She stared into the speckled mirror, seeing her pale face, eyes wide with anticipation, and gave an involuntary smile. She knew she looked her best. Watt would be proud of her.

‘Keep still, love!’ Pearl teased Rosie’s fair hair into tendrils around her cheeks and stood back to admire her handiwork. ‘Is this lovely girl my little Rosie then?’ Pearl wiped her eyes. ‘
Duw
, there’s beautiful you look.’ She bent over her daughter and kissed her cheek. ‘That Watt Bevan is a lucky man and I only hope he realizes it!’

‘I’m lucky too, Mam,’ Rosie said gently. ‘Watt is very handsome, he could have any woman he likes.’

‘Well, he likes you, so there!’ Pearl rubbed her chest with her hand, as though attempting to rub away the pain. ‘You sure you want me at the church and me in my condition? I might spoil things by coughing all over the place.’

Rosie turned to look up at her mother. ‘Of course I want you there, Mam!’ she said indignantly. ‘It wouldn’t be a wedding without you and the boys around me.’ She pulled at one of her curls.

‘Watt will have Llinos Mainwaring and all the folks from the pottery on his side of the church.’ She smiled happily. ‘And Binnie Dundee is standing up for him as groomsman even though he’s leaving for the docks straight after the wedding.’

‘Ah,’ Pearl said, looking shamefaced. ‘And you only got me and the boys. Mind, you do need a man to give you away, don’t you?’ She did not meet her daughter’s eyes.

‘Well, it’s not all that important is it, Mam? One of the boys can do it, can’t they?’ She looked at her brothers neatly dressed in their Sunday clothes, boots polished, hair slicked down with water and smiled. ‘Dom is a big boy now, at fifteen he’s taller than most men twice his age.’

Dom stared down at his boots. ‘I don’t want to stand up in no church, it’s bad enough going there when it’s not even Sunday.’

‘Well, love.’ Pearl hesitated. ‘I’ve asked Willie Sharp to do it. I hope you don’t mind love but he’s been a good friend to me.’

Rosie shrugged. ‘More than a friend, Mam. Well, I’m happy about it if you are.’

‘Are you sure, love?’ Pearl sounded wistful. ‘I know Willie is really proud that I asked him but if you prefer . . .’

Rosie smiled suddenly. What did it matter? ‘Willie shall give me away, it’s settled.’ What did any of the wedding arrangements really matter? She was going to be Mrs Watt Bevan, she would have a gold ring on her finger and a man to love and cherish her. Nothing was going to spoil her wedding day.

‘Thank you for everything, Mam,’ she said warmly. ‘You and Willie have done a lovely job of the bedroom, what with the windows painted and the pots of poppies all over the place.’ She blushed at the thought of the bed, made up ready for the night with clean sheets and the best patchwork quilt.

What would it be like having a man make love to you? She dared not ask her mother in case Pearl boxed her around the ears for her forwardness.

Pearl seemed to sense something of what she was thinking. She rested her hand on Rosie’s shoulder and leaned forward to whisper to her. ‘Nothing to fright you, having a man, mind.’ She smiled and patted her stomach. ‘Otherwise I wouldn’t have got so many babies would I?’

She sighed softly. ‘Though there’s nothing like your first love, nothing on earth or in heaven. I loved your father until the day he died.’ She wiped her eyes. ‘I’m just all tearful because you’re getting married, love. Take no notice of me.’ She dabbed at her cheeks with a scrap of linen.

‘Now, what was I saying? Oh yes you just let Watt take the lead, he’ll know what to do and you’ll just enjoy being the wife of a good man.’

Rosie’s colour was high, her mother’s talk was embarrassing her, so were the feelings rushing through her. She felt damp with desire for Watt’s touch. He had kissed her, of course, held her hand and when, last night, before saying goodnight, he held her in his arms, she had felt him hard against her and knew he desired her too.

‘I’ll be all right, Mam,’ she said shyly. ‘I know Watt will take care of everything.’

In the silence that followed Rosie heard the rumble of wheels on the cobbled street and her heartbeats quickened.

‘The horse and trap’s here,’ Pearl said, the excitement evident in her voice. ‘Come on then, you lot, outside with you, we’d better not keep the groom waiting.’

Rosie, seated in the front seat of the flower-bedecked cart, drawn by two horses, felt the sun on her face and smiled at the neighbours clustered around the doorways of their houses. Greenhill might not be a posh place to live but Rosie would not change the warmth and kindness of the people who lived there for anything.

She was glad Watt was going to make his home there, at least for the time being. Later, once Mam was well again and was settled back in work, Rosie could think about a place of her own, somewhere nearby so Rosie could keep an eye on Mam and the boys.

Pearl was wearing a full-skirted dress, her Sunday best. Over it, she had thrown a fine lace shawl so that her too-thin body was concealed as much as possible from prying eyes.

The church was bathed in sunlight, the cross over the door gleaming like gold. Father Martin stood ready to greet them and his gaze rested for a moment on Pearl’s white face before giving his attention to Rosie.

‘You sure about this, Rosie?’ he asked in his jocular way. Rosie liked Father Martin. He was pink and plump with kind eyes and a soft voice. He never judged people the way some men of the cloth did.

‘I’m sure, Father,’ she said smiling. ‘Sure as I’ll ever be.’

‘Right then, let’s get on with the show.’

Watt looked very tall as he stood waiting for her with Binnie Dundee at his side. Rosie could see the sadness in Binnie’s eyes. He must be remembering his own wedding and the woman he had left behind in America.

Watt smiled down at her and held out his hand to take hers and everything else went from her mind except the man she was about to marry. His fingers closed around hers and any flutter of nerves she felt vanished as love for him flowed through her.

She had meant to enjoy every minute of the ceremony but she hardly heard the words that joined her in matrimony to Watt Bevan. And then he was putting the ring on her finger, bending forward to kiss her lips in a brief salute.

‘Hello, husband,’ she whispered. The organ music swelled and tears came to Rosie’s eyes but they were tears of happiness. People kissed her and hugged her and heaped flower petals and salt and rice on her, congratulating her and wishing her a long and happy marriage. It all passed in a haze and before she knew it she was seated beside Watt on the cart heading back towards Greenhill.