Sweet Rosie (48 page)

‘Here!’ She smiled. ‘See if you like it.’

The gold watch slipped into his hand, rich and satisfyingly heavy. The ornate scrolling and the elegant face added to the charm of the piece. It reminded him of his father’s gold watch, the one he had sold because he needed the money. Well he would make sure he was never in need again.

‘If you are good, I might just buy you a good chain to go with it,’ Polly said, moving to the door.

‘Busy tonight?’ John asked, mellowed by the gift. ‘What a shame, I could have earned myself that chain right now.’

‘Patience, John, darling,’ she said. ‘I have to save something for poor old Jem, don’t I?’ She left the bedroom and John scrambled off the bed and pulled on his breeches.

‘What’s the hurry?’ he asked. She shook her head without answering and pulled open the front door. Outside the carriage waited, the driver asleep at the reins. Polly hesitated.

‘What is it, what’s wrong?’ John asked.

‘Bad news.’ She shrugged. ‘The paper will not use Lily’s drawing of Llinos Mainwaring. The editor thinks it could have legal implications.’

‘Hell and damnation!’ John felt frustration well up within him. The euphoric effects of the alcohol and Polly’s eager response to his lovemaking were wearing off. Now all he felt was tired and disheartened.

‘All is not lost, my darling,’ Polly said. ‘Just tell Mrs Mainwaring that the editor is holding back for a day or two. Use the brains God gave you, John Pendennis.’

She was right. Polly was not as flighty as some might think. Behind those eyes that flirted outrageously with any man she met, Polly had a good mind. Perhaps when Jem Boucher gave up the ghost, Polly would move John into her house on a more permanent basis.

He might even marry her. The fact that he was married to Josephine McCabe did not come into the matter. Jo was in America a mighty ocean separated them. No-one in the whole of Britain knew that she was even alive. In any case, if Binnie Dundee could get away with bigamy surely John Pendennis could do the same?

‘What are you thinking about, John?’ Polly said curiously. John smiled.

‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’

‘Come on, tell me!’ Polly clung to his arm and John took her face in his hands.

‘I was thinking that you and I make a good team, my love,’ he said. ‘One day, I might even do you the honour of marrying you.’

‘Oh really?’ Polly pushed him away. ‘Don’t count your chickens, my boy. Even if I was free, I wouldn’t marry you.’ She flounced off towards the carriage. ‘I like a stallion in my bed but not at my dining table,’ she said, turning to look over her shoulder.

‘The next man I marry will be rich and young then I won’t need anyone else to keep me happy.’

‘Don’t fool yourself, Polly!’ John called. ‘You are the sort of woman who will always need more than one man.’

She waved her hand as the carriage jerked into motion and John returned indoors. He sat looking at the watch for a long time. So Polly wanted a rich man, did she? Well he would be rich one day. He smiled. And the first step towards his goal was to get control of the Mainwaring Pottery. And get it he would, by whatever means he could.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Lily was upset. ‘Why didn’t the paper take my picture of that stuck-up Llinos Mainwaring?’ she said acidly.

Polly stared at her, eyebrows raised. ‘You know why,’ she said gently. ‘It was too controversial!’ She laughed. ‘But it was an excellent likeness, Lily, you are clever!’

Lily was not mollified by Polly’s praise. She had hoped for a good sum of money and a chance to get back at Llinos at the same time. Llinos thought she was a cut above the people she employed to run the pottery but Lily remembered the days when Llinos had no money. When the few people remaining at the pottery had worked their fingers to the bone to help the business survive. Lily herself had worked for just her bed and board, using her painting skills on crass earthenware products.

She realized now that she had been wasting her talents all along. Now that she had seen her work in print, had received money for her drawings, she knew she could have done better than stay in a smelly paint shed.

‘There’s nothing stopping you sending your picture to another paper, though,’ Polly said.

‘What do you mean?’

Polly sighed. ‘You’ll never make a businesswoman. Good thing you’ve got me to look after you.’ She bent over the drawing.

‘Look, why not take out the sign that says “Debtors’ Prison” and just show the old castle? We all know people who can’t pay their way get put in jail there, don’t we?’

‘But I liked the sign, it made the point so clearly that Llinos Mainwaring is in trouble,’ Lily said.

‘I know it’s all very clever but it’s too daring as it is, love. Do as I say and I bet you will get some rich pickings for it from a big Cardiff paper without them worrying about being sued. At least it’s worth a try and you’d get more money that way and your fame would spread.’

‘Do you think so?’ Lily was quite flattered. Polly usually knew what she was talking about. Sometimes it irked her that Polly, who made her living by stealing from casual lovers, had risen high enough to be accepted in polite society. Polly certainly had the brains to make the most of herself.

‘Nothing to lose, is there?’ Polly looked around the room. ‘Nice place this. Matt takes good care of you, mind.’ She rose to study a richly coloured painting on the wall. ‘This is really good,’ she said. ‘I bet it’s worth a fortune.’

‘No, I think it’s a copy of one of the old masters,’ Lily said. ‘Matthew brought it from his house, he said it would please me.’ And it did. It was a painting of a woodland scene with the trees disappearing ghost-like into the distance. It always gave Lily a sense of freedom, of the open air.

‘It’s not a copy, you idiot!’ Polly said. ‘It’s the real thing, you ask Matthew. Gawd! If ever you was ditched you could sell the painting and live on the profits for the rest of your natural.’

Polly reverted to her street language, something she always did when she was excited. ‘Look, Lily, why don’t you do a copy of this and put it in the frame, Matthew would never know the difference. You could get yourself a nice little nest-egg with the proceeds.’

Lily looked at her open-mouthed. ‘I couldn’t do that!’ she said.

‘Why not? You’re clever enough.’

‘No, I don’t think I am.’ Lily stared at the painting; she had stared at it for long hours on the nights Matthew did not come to see her. She almost knew the contours of the land, the feathery leaves of the trees off by heart.

‘Just have a go in a small way at first,’ Polly said. ‘Draw a bit of it, a tree or a hill or something, you know better than me, you are the artist.’

It was an idea worth considering. Lily put her head on one side and studied the painting. She might just try her hand at copying the scene. She was not at all convinced she was up to the task but at least it would be something to do when the evenings stretched endlessly before her.

Lily hated to be alone; she even preferred to put up with Matthew’s advances rather than sleep in the big house all by herself. Though, to be fair to him, Matthew managed to see her most days. She realized quite suddenly that she liked Matthew more than a little. She had come to depend on him, to want him to hold her. She would never like the intimacy between a man and a woman but at least with Matthew it was gentle and he treated her as though he really cared for her.

‘How’s Jem?’ Lily said, aware that Polly was watching her. Polly had a nasty habit of reading Lily’s mind.

‘He’s well enough for an old codger!’ Polly laughed. ‘Up to his usual bedtime tricks. It’s a wonder the man don’t wear himself out.’ She twisted the gold band on her finger. ‘I’ll miss him when he goes, mind.’

‘Goes?’ Lily said.

‘Pops his clogs, silly! He’s not a young stripling any more, is he?’

Lily thought about it. Jem was even older than Matthew who was in his fiftieth year. ‘How old is he? Jem I mean?’

‘I dunno, about sixty, I can’t really tell.’ She smiled broadly. ‘To him I’m a young spring chicken fit enough for bedroom capers, that’s all he cares about.’

She sighed. ‘Talking of Jem, I’d better go. We’ve got some boring people coming to supper tonight.’ She minced across the room. ‘The Honourable Mr Tassle Jones-Price and his grumpy old wife.’ Polly smirked. ‘If only the old cow knew that The Honourable isn’t so honourable, she’d have a fit!’

Polly was incorrigible. ‘You’ve not played up to him, have you? Not with Jem in the house.’

‘Jem laughs about it,’ Polly said. ‘He thinks it great fun that the old buffer tries it on with me.’

Lily shook her head; she would never understand why Polly and Jem stayed together. Perhaps it was because they both behaved like children at times. Jem was a good businessman and Polly had a wise head on her shoulders but over matters of the bedchamber they could both be so silly.

‘Heard the gossip about Alice Sparks?’ Polly said casually. Lily was irritated.

‘You know I never hear any gossip,’ she said. ‘The only scandal I get to know about is what you tell me.’ Trust Polly to drop something juicy into the conversation just as she was leaving.

‘The twins she had were not her old man’s kids at all.’ She chuckled. ‘There’s talk that Eynon Morton-Edwards was the father, the two were having an affair after all.’ She leaned forward confidentially. ‘Not that those babies were even in one piece when that butcher Dr Rogers got ’em out. Poor little mites!’ She sighed. ‘But their hair was like spun gold so I heard.’

‘Who told you?’ Lily asked, her eyes wide.

‘I talked to the nurse who came in after the delivery. Terrible time the Sparks woman had. I don’t like her nor that fool of a husband of hers but I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy.’

Lily shuddered; she would never long for a baby, never. It was all too sordid for words.

‘Does her husband suspect anything?’

‘You bet!’ Polly laughed. ‘Alice’s up and gone, supposedly to holiday with that rich father of hers but I reckon her old man chucked her out. Scream, innit?’

‘I don’t suppose Alice Sparks thinks it’s funny. Still, she deserves it, she was never nice to me.’

Lily saw Polly to the door, reluctant for her to go. ‘Can’t you stay for a bit longer?’ she asked but Polly was already climbing into her carriage.

Now she would be alone for hours. Matthew was attending a business meeting tonight, something to do with the bank in town. Lily had heard a whisper that something was going on.

It seemed that the local auditors were not happy about the bank’s affairs and that London auditors were being called in to investigate matters. She had not listened very hard when Matthew had talked to her about it; it was not that interesting.

She watched as Polly’s carriage rolled away, envying her. Polly had everything, a good husband, respectability and wealth. But then since Matthew had come into her life Lily had not done badly herself. The fact that she was sometimes lonely was nothing to worry about. She had her work, her painting and Polly was right, she might just as well do her best to capitalize on it. Slowly, she closed the door and went inside to light a few more candles.

‘You don’t know where Alice Sparks is then?’ Llinos was seated opposite Eynon in the plush tea rooms of the Neath Hotel. Outside, she could see the waves washing over the beach, rushing forwards and retreating, sucking shells back with the pull of the tide. Won’t you try to find out?’

‘I’m not really interested. Well, would you be?’ Eynon said. He sighed heavily. ‘She’s made her choice, gone away without letting me know where. I feel I’ve done my best for her, I’ve helped her financially and,’ he paused, ‘well, all that’s water under the bridge now.’ He smiled. ‘I’m free to find someone else, aren’t I?’

Llinos smiled wanly. ‘You would like me to think you are hard but I know different. You are upset that Alice lost the twins, aren’t you?’

Eynon shook his head without answering and Llinos did not pursue the point.

‘I had a letter from Mr Sparks asking to postpone our meeting,’ she said. ‘He hinted there was trouble of a domestic kind. I knew exactly what he meant of course and I couldn’t help feeling sorry for him.’

‘I wouldn’t trust that man further than I could throw him,’ Eynon said. ‘Why you still bank with him I just don’t know. We’ve all warned you, Llinos, and you’ve been too apathetic to do anything about it.’

Llinos was silent; these words were harsh ones coming from her best friend. She had rowed with Watt over what he saw as yet another delaying tactic by Edward Sparks and she did not want to argue with Eynon as well.

The trouble was she knew they were both giving her good advice, advice she should have heeded long ago. She had a bundle of bills in her desk that she should be attending to right away. But she felt tired and too dispirited to care about anything.

‘I know, Watt keeps on at me about it.’ Llinos bit her lip. ‘I meant to close the account but, well, things happened and I put it off.’

‘Look, don’t worry,’ Eynon said. ‘When the London auditors have done their work I’ll step in and guide you through everything, how’s that?’

‘Yes, thank you, Eynon but I’m tired of the whole business. Let’s talk about something else, shall we?’

‘Like what?’ He reached out and took her hand. ‘I’m concerned about you, Llinos. I want to take care of you. More so now that Joe seems to have gone and abandoned you.’

She knew he was talking sense but hearing him put Joe’s betrayal into words was painful. She felt tears well up in her eyes and she stared unseeingly at the brown china teapot. She would not cry. She would not let Eynon know how distressed she was. She still had some shred of pride left.

‘He’s happy with his Indian girl.’ She had to force herself to speak. ‘He’s probably followed her to America by now. He’s left me for good, I know that.’