Sweet Rosie (43 page)

It hurt that Joe had not even come to Pearl’s funeral. It had been a dismal day with clouds racing over the graveyard. Neighbours who had loved Pearl and workers from the pottery crowded around the open grave throwing in flowers, shards of pottery and the dust from the clay. It was their way of sending Pearl to her eternal rest.

Watt touched her shoulder and she looked up, startled out of her thoughts. ‘Llinos, John Pendennis is here, he wants to talk to you.’

She nodded. ‘I’ll see him in a minute, Watt, just show him into the house, will you?’

‘Be careful,’ Watt said, ‘John makes trouble wherever he goes.’ He looked down at her, his eyes full of concern. ‘He says he has news for you, some story about Joe and the Indian girl.’

‘Just bear in mind,’ he continued, ‘you don’t have to believe a word he says. John always thinks of himself first, remember that.’ Llinos knew he had seen her face change from indifference to apprehension.

‘I’ll see him at once.’ She hurried up to the house and kicked off her dust-covered shoes at the door. Not waiting for her slippers, she rushed into the drawing room where John Pendennis was standing respectfully near the fireplace.

‘Sit down, John,’ she said quickly, clenching her hands together to stop them from shaking. ‘What do you know about my husband?’

‘I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, Mrs Mainwaring,’ John said gently, ‘but I stayed a while in the Mandan village.’

‘Yes?’

‘I found out that Joe, Mr Mainwaring, had been with this girl Sho Ka when he visited the Mandan tribe. It seems that among the Mandan people Joe and this Sho Ka are considered to be a married couple. They feast openly together, dance those strange Indian dances together, practically fornicating where they stand.’

‘Why are you telling me this?’ she asked coldly, hating him for rubbing salt into the wound.

‘I just thought you would like to know,’ John said. ‘I saw them on the dock when I landed, your husband and the Indian girl along with her baby were boarding one of the ships.’

Llinos sank into a chair. ‘Well, why are you here, John? It isn’t simply to tell me this, to hurt me, is that it?’

‘No, of course not,’ he said. ‘I never wanted to hurt you. Though when Binnie Dundee asked me to tell you about Joe, I felt he was right. He knows you better than I do and he thought you would prefer to know the truth.’

‘Binnie? What has he got to do with all this?’ Llinos rubbed her eyes; she wanted to crawl into bed, to close her eyes and never open them again. She thought of Joe with another child, a baby who would take Lloyd’s place in his heart. It made her so angry that she felt physically ill.

John swallowed hard. His shoulders slumped; he was trembling. ‘Binnie was good enough to go with me to the coast and see me safely aboard ship,’ he said in a low voice. ‘He thought you might give me a job. He wanted to help me in any way he could because I’d been through a bad time.’

He paused and rubbed his eyes tiredly. ‘My wife, Josephine, she miscarried our baby and it was all too much for her. I lost her too.’

He wiped his eyes impatiently before straightening his shoulders. ‘But you have problems of your own, you don’t need to hear mine. I’d better go and leave you in peace. In any case, I need to find work and somewhere to stay before nightfall.’

Llinos watched as John walked towards the door. He was very thin, he seemed a shadow of the man he used to be. And if Binnie had wanted to help him it was good enough for her. ‘Look, speak to Watt, I’m sure he will find you a job here.’ Llinos got to her feet, anxious to be alone.

‘I couldn’t take advantage of your generosity, not when I’ve brought you such unwelcome news,’ John said. ‘I’m sorry for you, really sorry. I know what it’s like to lose the one you love.’

John had not been an ideal employee in the past, indeed there was a time when Llinos felt relieved that he had gone to America, but now her heart went out to him. He had aged; his hair was prematurely tinged with grey, his eyes puffy and swollen. Perhaps bad luck followed him around like a curse.

‘Haven’t you found lodgings for tonight?’ she asked more kindly. By the look of the man he had suffered a great deal. He shook his head.

‘No but now I have the promise of work I’m sure I will have no difficulty finding somewhere.’

‘Look,’ Llinos said, ‘stay here, at least for tonight. You can sleep in one of the sheds, at least it will be warm and dry.’

‘I wouldn’t like to impose,’ John said. ‘It won’t take me long to go around Swansea asking for lodgings, don’t you worry about me.’

‘It’s all right,’ Llinos said. ‘Stay until you find somewhere decent to live, you’re welcome.’

‘That’s very kind of you, Mrs Mainwaring,’ he said. ‘I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be treated so generously. But, really, I would rather find lodgings in one of the inns nearby. I don’t want to impose on your hospitality. Still, I thank you for your kindness from the bottom of my heart.’

‘Very well.’ Llinos rang the bell for the maid. ‘Show Mr Pendennis to the door.’ She spoke calmly though it took all her reserves of self-control not to scream and cry and curse her husband’s name.

As the door closed behind John, Llinos stared down at her hands, at the ring Joe had placed on her finger, a gold band that she believed tied them together for life. How wrong she had been. It seemed that a few words spoken many years ago over a couple of children living in a Mandan village were more binding than any civilized marriage service conducted in a house of God.

She felt the bitterness of tears burn her eyes. How could Joe say he loved her and then give his love to Sho Ka? Was he simply a good liar? She could picture them on the docks, embracing each other, cooing over the new baby. Joe would be looking down at the Indian girl with the tenderness he had once shown his wife. His hands would touch her hair, her cheek.

‘Stop it!’ Llinos put her hands to her face. She could not bear to think of them together. She would never forgive Joe for the way he had treated her, never. Nothing on this earth would put right the wrong he had done her. Then why did her body ache for him? Why did her mind and spirit feel so lost without him?

Llinos sighed; she must pull herself together. The only one she was hurting by brooding on Joe’s betrayal was herself. In the morning she would speak to Watt, tell him that she had promised John a job. He would not like it one bit; he would frown his disapproval but then that was just too bad. She was the owner of the pottery and the days were long gone when she took directions from any man. From now on, men would have no place in her life, she would have to learn to be independent, to assert herself. She had managed alone before, she would do it again.

Unconsciously she squared her shoulders. She would start with Edward Sparks, she would put the small man in his place, tell him some home truths about his mishandling of her affairs and then she would transfer her account to another bank. If she was destined to live alone then she would make the best of it. One thing she was sure of, she would never trust a man again.

John lay back on the bed in the cosy attic room and stared up at the ceiling. It seemed that once again he had fallen on his feet, he had a roof over his head and he had the promise of a job. He glanced across to where his bag stood on the floor. Inside was most of the money he had taken from Dan McCabe and it was a goodly sum. John supposed he would need to visit a bank as soon as possible, open an account.

He wondered if he would be lucky enough to find a bank manager who would be sympathetic to his needs. Preferably someone not too concerned with the rules. That way, a little money could be made to increase dramatically. Well tomorrow he would go into town, talk to people and see what he could learn. In the meantime, he would enjoy the comfort of a bed that did not move in time to the ocean waves. He closed his eyes and slept.

In the morning, John began to look for proper lodgings. He wanted somewhere cheap and clean where he could impose upon the lady of the house to attend to his laundry. He spent some time in some of the inns on the way into the Stryd Fawr, the High Street where one of the largest banks was situated.

He did not learn a great deal about any of the bank managers and he was coming to the conclusion that they were all as honest as the day was long. It did nothing for his spirits but the beer helped a little. Still, he needed to keep a cool head if he wanted to do business with anyone.

He was leaving the Britannica Inn when he saw a young lady bustling along the pavement towards him, her arms full of packages. She was richly dressed and carried herself like a lady. This impression was confirmed when he saw that she was heading towards a gleaming coach bearing a coat of arms on the door.

The lady dropped one of her packages and John leapt forward to pick it up, doffing his hat politely.

‘Thank you, that’s so kind of you.’ She looked up into his eyes and her expression was that of a harlot not a lady. John read lust there and his pulse quickened. She looked familiar, had he met her before? Or did all whores look the same?

‘I couldn’t see such a beautiful young woman in distress, could I?’ He watched her carefully as she looked towards the carriage, had he misread the warmth in her eyes?

‘Could I escort you somewhere?’ he asked politely. This would be the test, no respectable woman would agree to trust a man to whom she had not been introduced. She fluttered her eyelashes at him. He had not been mistaken.

‘I was just on my way home but I have a raging thirst and could do with a drink of tea,’ she said gushingly.

‘It would be a delight to accompany you, Mrs . . .?’

‘Polly Boucher but you can call me Polly,’ she simpered. ‘I’ll just put my parcels into the carriage and we can go into one of the tea rooms around here if you like.’

‘I would like. Very much,’ John said easily. He watched as the driver took the parcels from Polly and doffed his cap as she gave him instructions to wait. She came bouncing back to John. Her eyes were gleaming like those of a cat. She was a strange mixture, part lady part whore, and the combination excited him.

He took her into the Castle Hotel and ordered tea. They sat there in silence for a few minutes and then Polly leaned closer to him.

‘I must tell you all about Swansea,’ she said. ‘And the so-called élite of the town.’ She had a ready fund of gossip and John listened intrigued. She talked about Eynon Morton-Edwards and his affair with the wife of a bank manager. John smiled at her, encouraging her to go on and she did so, her tongue sharp, her observations even sharper.

‘The twins Alice Sparks is carrying, everyone says it’s Eynon who is the father.’ She dimpled. ‘I can well believe it, Mr Sparks looks too effete to produce anything more than a bank draft.’

John leaned across the table allowing his hand to touch hers. Polly did not draw away. ‘Ah, you mentioned banks and as it happens I’m looking for somewhere to put my money,’ he said. ‘I take it you would not recommend I put my trust in Mr Sparks then?’

‘Too royal!’ Polly said robustly. For a moment she almost sounded as common as a street girl, then she put her head on one side and smiled at him. ‘You put your trust in my husband. Jem Boucher is a good businessman and has made a rich living for us both.’

She was once again the lady, well spoken if a little too outspoken. She interested him. ‘You are a fascinating lady, you know,’ he said softly. ‘If you weren’t married, I think I could fall for you hook, line and sinker!’

‘Oh go away with you, sir.’ She looked down, pretending a shyness she clearly did not feel. ‘I expect you say that to any lady you chance to take tea with.’

‘Well not exactly, I don’t know many ladies in Swansea, I have only just returned from the Americas.’

‘Oh?’ Her eyes were large. ‘I hear everyone in America is very wealthy, is that so?’

‘It is in my case.’ John was exaggerating; he had only the money he had taken from McCabe and, though that was more than John had ever owned in his life, without proper care it would not last him long.

‘And you have no wife in America?’ Polly asked.

John shook his head. ‘I did have but I lost her.’ He looked as downcast as he could manage. ‘In any case, the marriage was an unhappy one. There were no children, nothing to keep me in America and so I returned to British shores.’

‘Ah, marriage, it is not always what we think it to be,’ Polly said. ‘Though my husband is good to me, he is old and lacks physical prowess, if you know what I mean.’ She lowered her lashes but John read her well. If he played his cards right, he would soon have Mrs Polly Boucher between the sheets. Being a paramour to a wealthy woman was a much better prospect than working in the pottery under the surly eye of Watt Bevan.

It was John who brought the interlude to an end. ‘I had better return you to your carriage.’ He paused and smiled in what he hoped was a rueful manner. ‘And, alas, to the arms of your husband.’

Polly seemed taken aback by his decision to leave. She pouted for a moment and then rose to her feet with a flourish.

‘You must come to visit us.’ She was the haughty lady now. ‘We are living in the house once owned by the Morton-Edwards family, do you know it?’

Did he know it? He could scarcely miss what was one of the most elegant houses in the whole town of Swansea. ‘I’m sure I could find it.’ He leaned forward. ‘I have every incentive to do so when there is so much at stake.’ She could take that any way she chose. She smiled.

‘Are you being naughty, sir?’

‘I would love to be naughty with you, Polly.’ He kissed her fingers, allowing his mouth to travel to her wrist where a gleaming bracelet hung. He made a quick appraisal. It was made up of at least twelve carats’ worth of diamonds, she must be very rich indeed.

‘Polly,’ his voice took on a sense of urgency, ‘please let me see you again, very soon.’

‘Tonight?’ she said. He looked at her sharply. She rested her free hand against his shirt-front. He congratulated himself on wearing his best linen, bought for him by Josephine.