Sweet Rosie (8 page)

‘All right.’ Llinos rose. ‘I think everyone’s finished now. Thank you, Rosie.’ She watched Pearl’s daughter neatly stacking dishes onto a tray. She was so pretty, not quite eighteen, small-boned with delicate colouring and features. She was very different from her mother. Pearl was big, robust, full of laughter. Rosie had a more serious side to her nature, a side that Llinos liked. Had her own daughter lived, she might have grown up to be just like Rosie.

‘I think I’ll go upstairs and read for a bit,’ Llinos said. ‘You’ll be all right, Charlotte?’

‘Of course I’ll be all right! What do you think I do all day while you’re at work? Go on with you, a rest will do you the world of good.’

Llinos kicked off her shoes and lay on the bed, the pillows propped beneath her head. She picked up a book but she could not concentrate on the words before her. She was worried about Lloyd and worried about Joe. Why did her life have to be so complicated?

She must have slept because she opened her eyes to the sound of someone knocking on the bedroom door.

‘Mrs Mainwaring, it’s me, Rosie.’ She looked round the door. ‘I’ve been sent to tell you that Eira’s back.’

Llinos sat up at once. ‘Where is Eira now?’

‘She’s upstairs. She was in the hall coughing her heart out and Mrs Marks sent her to bed.’

Llinos hurried down the stairs into the hall and Watt came to the door of the drawing room, Lloyd at his side.

‘He’s fine.’ Watt touched Llinos’s arm. ‘Look, don’t worry, there are a few chills and colds about now, Eira’s cough might be nothing.’

Llinos wished again that Joe would come home; if Lloyd should fall sick she would be unable to cope alone. She put her hand on her son’s shoulder. ‘Did you take goodies to Eira’s friends?’

‘Yes, Mamma,’ Lloyd said. ‘They were all sick though so we didn’t stay long.’

Llinos took a deep breath. ‘We’ll keep Eira in her room until we find out for sure what’s wrong with her.’ Her voice was calm, no-one would suspect her heart was beating swiftly with fear. ‘And Watt, get one of the doctors up here, I want Lloyd examined.’

Llinos led Lloyd into the drawing room. ‘Are you feeling all right, Lloyd? Is your chest hurting or anything?’

‘No, my chest doesn’t hurt, can I go and play?’

Charlotte had followed them into the room; she caught Llinos’s eye and nodded. ‘Let him be, no point in alarming him is there?’

The doctor arrived within half an hour. He was young, new to the area and Llinos had never met him before. She only hoped he was familiar with the sicknesses that could rage through a small town and decimate half the population in a matter of weeks.

‘I’m Peter Stafford.’ He handed his hat and coat to the maid. ‘Don’t be too concerned, Mrs Mainwaring, there may be a serious sickness around but you are well served here for food and clean water.’ He smiled deprecatingly. ‘Of course, older doctors would think that a nonsense but I feel that cleanliness makes people much healthier and so they are able to fight off the sickness with more vigour.’

‘Come into the drawing room, Dr Stafford,’ Llinos said. ‘Have you had much experience with this sort of illness?’

‘If you mean do I know the symptoms of whooping cough, the answer is yes. I think I know something about the cause of such epidemics as well.’

‘Oh?’ Llinos looked at him, giving him her full attention. ‘Then you must be a very clever young man.’

He half smiled and Llinos knew why; he was only a year or two younger than she was.

‘The difficulty is that people are still drinking water from the canal,’ he said, rolling up his sleeves. ‘The same canal water that men urinate in on their way home from the beer houses.’ He looked at her. ‘I am too much of a gentleman to describe all the other unclean things that are added daily to the canal. My point is that people gather at the canal. They wash themselves and their utensils in the same water. They huddle there cheek by jowl to wash clothing and to gossip and so the sickness passes from one to the other.’

‘Not Eira though,’ Llinos said thoughtfully. ‘Still, I see you might have a point.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Now, Doctor, I want everyone in the household checked starting with my son. Then I’d like Eira to be examined. After that perhaps you will see the rest of my staff?’

His eyebrows lifted. ‘And you?’

‘All in good time,’ Llinos said firmly.

‘You’ve set me quite a task, Mrs Mainwaring. Please be sure your maid follows me with a bowl of hot water to wash my hands.’

Llinos was not as surprised as the doctor clearly expected her to be. ‘My husband is scrupulously clean; he too believes in the power of soap and water.’

‘Your husband is an American Indian gentleman I understand?’

‘That is correct,’ Llinos said dryly. It was clear that the doctor had been well informed about Llinos and her marriage to a foreigner.

‘May I?’ He examined Lloyd’s chest, peered into his mouth. ‘His throat seems a little red but that’s nothing to worry about at this stage.’ After a few moments, he straightened and smiled at Llinos.

‘I think you have a fine healthy son here. Nothing much the matter with him.’ Llinos sighed in relief. ‘Now, let us look at all the other occupants of Pottery House, shall we?’

Peter Stafford proved to be methodical and thorough. His examinations took the best part of the day.

‘I think you are all fit and healthy,’ he said. ‘All except Miss Eira. I think I had better take a look at her again before I leave.’

Eira’s condition had deteriorated over the past few hours, that much was clear even to Llinos’s untrained eye.

The doctor washed his hands and took so long about it that Llinos knew something was very wrong. Once outside the door, she looked the doctor in the eye.

‘Is it the whooping cough?’

‘I am afraid it is,’ he said. ‘I can only advise that you keep her isolated, give her plenty of water to drink, boiled water, if you please. She is a strong girl, she will probably get over this, given a week or so.’

‘Do you think anyone else is going to get sick, Doctor?’

‘I don’t know.’ He followed her downstairs, doing up his shirtsleeves. ‘But I will call again tomorrow and check you all again.’ At the door, he turned to her. ‘Remember, people do survive these sicknesses.’

She watched him walk to his horse and carriage before returning to the drawing room. If only Joe was here, he would cure Eira for certain. He knew more about medicine than any trained doctor.

Watt was waiting for her near the drawing room door: ‘I’ll look after Eira for you, Llinos,’ he said, ‘I’m a big strong man and I’ve never had a day’s sickness in my life.’

‘I don’t know, Watt.’ Llinos rubbed her eyes. ‘No, that’s not going to work, I need you in the pottery. We must bring in a nurse.’ She looked up at Watt. ‘Any suggestions?’

‘Mother Peters would do it.’

‘Oh Watt, she’s so old now she can hardly walk.’

‘Nonsense! In any case, she wouldn’t have to walk far, she could sleep in my room. I can sleep on the sofa downstairs, I’ve done it before.’

‘All right.’ Llinos rubbed her eyes; she had no better suggestion. ‘Go ask her then, see how she feels about it.’

When Watt left, Llinos stared out of the window, her mind full of doubts and fears. From the music room, she could hear Lloyd’s stumbling fingers on the pianoforte; his tutor must be giving him a music lesson. It all seemed so normal, surely there was nothing really to worry about?

She tried to calm herself but everything seemed to be piling up on top of her. She must not panic; she must deal with this sickness calmly and sensibly. But was she strong enough to handle it alone?

For a moment she allowed herself to wallow in self-pity. Her life had never been easy, not since the day her father had left Swansea and joined the fight against Bonaparte. Llinos had been left to run the pottery practically single-handedly but she had been strong then. She had been able to deal with all the extra problems of business, the accounts, ordering stock, everything. She had saved the pottery then but where was her strength now?

She returned to her bedroom and sat near the window, staring out at the windswept garden. If only he could walk into the room right now she would have courage to face anything, but the room remained silent.

The sickness spread and, within two weeks, the pottery was running on half strength. Even Pearl, big healthy Pearl, had gone down with the whooping cough. But Llinos was grateful that Eira was on the mend. It seemed the young woman had only a mild dose of the illness and had managed to overcome the worst of it.

So far the rest of the household was unaffected. Lloyd had remained healthy and so had she. Llinos thanked God every day for that. She even prayed to Joe’s Great Spirit, feeling she was hedging her bets in a most unworthy way. But she felt that whatever, whoever was out there, they were looking down at her kindly, keeping her little family safe.

She was back at work now, needed in the pottery because of the people off ill. She was looking through Joe’s patterns for the firebird china when Watt barged into the small office. Llinos knew at once that something was badly wrong. She rose to her feet, the patterns fanning out on the floor where she dropped them. ‘What is it, what’s wrong?’

‘It’s Maura, I’ve got to go to her, Llinos.’ He held up his hand as Llinos made a move towards him. ‘No! Please, Llinos, stay away, I don’t want you catching anything from me.’ He shrugged. ‘I should have known better, I’ve been going from this house to the Morton-Edwards’s place not realizing I might carry the sickness with me.’

‘Oh, Watt,’ Llinos said, ‘you can’t blame yourself. As Dr Stafford said, none of us knows very much about how this sickness is spread.’

‘You don’t feel I’m deserting you?’

‘You go and look after Maura and go with my blessing. Is Eynon all right?’

‘He’s fine. He’s had Maura taken to his holiday cottage down by the sea. He feels the clean air will be good for her.’ He paused. ‘He’s also worried that Jayne might get the whooping cough and I don’t blame him.’

‘Are we very selfish people, Watt?’ Llinos asked wistfully. ‘Worrying about our own, not caring too much so long as they are protected?’

‘Now that Maura is sick, I know just how you feel,’ he said despondently. ‘I would do anything to save her from suffering.’

‘Look, Watt, take anything you need from the house. I wish I could do more.’

‘Eynon is very good,’ Watt said. ‘He’s having the doctor call on Maura every day; he’s brought in a nurse who is used to dealing with this sort of thing.’ He hesitated. ‘If only Joe was here, he’d save Maura’s life, I know he would.’

Llinos felt her eyes mist with tears. ‘I wish he was home too.’

Llinos watched from the window as Watt walked towards the stables. He was her right arm; he knew the pottery and loved it as much as she did. How was she going to manage without him? She looked at her reflection in the glass of the window. She would manage, she would just have to.

‘Joe,’ she whispered, her breath misting the glass, ‘if ever I needed you, it’s now.’

‘They’re dying like flies and there’s nothing I can do but offer them the last rites.’ Father Martin was seated in Eynon’s house staring dejectedly at the rich carpet under his feet.

Eynon touched his friend’s arm. ‘Look, Martin, you are doing everything you can. Stay a while, share some food and wine with me, it will make you feel better.’

Martin shook his head. ‘I’m a vicar of this parish, I have a job to do and it’s not about me feeling better.’ He looked up briefly. ‘If only our old vicar was still alive, he would tell me the things I should be saying, the words of comfort folk expect from a man of the cloth. I’m useless at it, Eynon.’

‘No you are not!’ Eynon said. ‘I hear all around me of your courage, the way you go into houses where most of the family has died of the sickness. You are a man, Martin, not a god, you can only do your best and that is what you are doing.’

‘Do you think so?’ Martin looked at him hopefully. ‘Do you really think I’m acquitting myself well?’

‘I most certainly do. Now come on, have something to eat, I insist.’

‘I dare not,’ Martin said flatly. ‘I have closed the eyes of the dead and I will not risk Jayne’s health by sitting at the same table as her.’ He smiled with a semblance of his old warmth. Even now he looked like an overgrown baby. His cheeks were pink and unlined; his hands dimpled like those of a child. It was only the lines around his eyes that gave away the strain he was under.

‘I know what you could do, though,’ he said, ‘you could bring some food and wine out into the conservatory; it’s too cold for a child at this time of year.’

‘Good idea!’ Eynon said. ‘I’ll do that.’

It was in a companionable silence that they ate their meal of cold ham and cheese and fresh baked bread warm from the oven. The butter had been churned early in the morning and drops of water slid from the yellow mound like tiny tears.

‘Lovely salt butter,’ Martin said appreciatively. ‘But then, I always did enjoy your hospitality, Eynon.’ He paused, a mouthful of bread lodged in the side of his cheek making him look even plumper. ‘You are a good friend, Eynon, the best friend any man could want. If anything should happen to me, well, I just want you to know that I appreciate your loyalty and your support all these years.’

Eynon stared at him. ‘You are not going to leave me your worldly wealth then?’ he joked. ‘Listen to me, Martin, you are not going to die of the whooping cough, I won’t have it!’

‘I think it’s up to Him.’ Martin pointed at the clouds. ‘The man upstairs decides when it’s time for me to go.’

Eynon rested his hand on Martin’s arm. ‘Right then, if we’re going to be maudlin, I’ll tell you that you are the closest thing to a brother any man could have. I won’t do without you, you must survive, do you understand?’

Martin nodded and the two men sat in silence for a while. Martin ate no more of the crusty bread and the salt butter of which he was so fond. At last, he rose to his feet.