The Wild Seed (55 page)

‘What happened, Craig?’ Hari asked when at last she had managed to help him into the cart and had climbed up into the driving seat herself.

‘I’m not sure, not even now when I have had time to think it over. I heard a noise, like a shot and then the horse went wild; next thing I knew, I was flying through the air into the quarry.’

‘What were you doing there in the first place; looking for me, I suppose?’

‘Now, how did you know that, you witch?’

‘It was not witchcraft, Bethan Hopkins was sitting in our house when I got in. You must have seen her, she must have said something to worry you.’

Craig rubbed his eyes, ‘It’s coming back to me now, she came to tell me the same thing she told you, that she had rented the house. I thought she seemed sensible enough until she began to talk about you. She said that you had left Swansea hours ago, that there had been reports of footpads on the roads and why were you so late when she had an appointment with you at the house.’

‘She had no appointment with me.’ Hari did not choose to tell Craig how she and Bethan had rowed and wrestled like fishwives; no need to upset him, not when he was feeling bad enough already.

‘Here we are, our new home, at least for the present.’ Hari could sense Craig’s dismay when she drew the pony to a halt outside the house in Watkin Street. It looked dingier than ever, the upstairs windows uncurtained, the paintwork peeling and dull.

‘It won’t be for ever, love.’ She helped him down into the roadway and clung on to him, her eyes warm as they rested on him. ‘You can take that as a promise for I intend to make us rich again, however long it takes.’

He kissed her hair. ‘We are together and that is enough for me.’

As she helped Craig to walk along the dark passageway, Hari felt tears constrict her throat, the place smelt damp and she knew instinctively that they were alone in the house. There were no cheerful sounds from Catherine’s rooms, the house was dark and deserted and so alien that Hari did not think she could bear to live there. But she had to live there, had to make the best of it for Craig’s sake. He was sick, injured, he needed nursing. The last thing he needed was a snivelling wife.

Soon, he would regain his strength but until then, he could not work, not even at the offices of
The Swansea Times
. It was up to her to bring in the money or they would starve. For a moment, panic gripped her and then she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin high; she must not despair, she had skills, she had courage and somehow she would survive.

Liam Cullen put down his glass of ale, and looked around him. The small back room of the George was crowded, filled with the smell of pipe smoke and he wondered why he was there. Outside, it was cold, the wind driving the rain in rivulets along the gutters; at least in the George it was warm and dry. He heard a voice, suddenly raised, and his attention was caught.

‘Can’t stand that Bethan Hopkins no longer, mind. Glad to get away from that morgue of a place, I am. I hated it at Ty Craig and hated
her
, Mrs Hopkins, as well. Right cow, she is, frightened me to death with her funny ways.’

He peered round cautiously and saw a young girl, with mousy hair and a complexion to match, elbows on table, hair dishevelled. She was obviously well into her cups by the look of the bottles on the table. Opposite her sat a man, dour and thin, his hand trailing beneath the table to touch the girl’s leg. She seemed not to notice as she continued her complaints.

‘Once the master left again, I knew I couldn’t stay. Gone potty, she is, that Mrs Hopkins, talks to herself all the time, sees ghosts that are not there.’ She smiled. ‘The master now, Mr Hopkins, he’s lovely. I don’t blame him for getting out and taking up with that red-haired girl again, always had a soft spot for her, did Mr Hopkins.’

The pain was almost physical and Liam took a gulp of his drink, trying to dislodge the constriction in his throat. He thought of them together, Hopkins and Catherine, and he felt a knife turn in his gut. How he wanted her, he would have loved and revered her, put her on a pedestal. She could have borne him fine sons and daughters who would take over the farm. But it was no good thinking like that, Catherine was not in love with him, she would never be his, he might as well face it and go home to Ireland once and for all.

He rose abruptly and put down his glass. He would go to see Catherine one last time, say his goodbyes and then he would return to his lodgings and pack his few possessions. Tomorrow, he would sail for Ireland, try to find peace in the emerald hills and jewelled lakes of his homeland.

Some day, he might even forget Catherine, find another woman he could love. Somehow, he did not believe it. He walked out into the night and stared up for a moment at the clearing sky, the rain had stopped and the moon shone palely onto the wet streets. Liam breathed in the salt tang of the sea and knew he would miss Swansea, it had become part of him, in his blood, the way Catherine was.

He began to walk, turning uphill in the direction of Watkin Street. The sooner he severed all links with Catherine and Swansea, the better. A clean knife wound, it would hurt like hell but it was by far the best way.

Catherine was sitting huddled close to a fire that was burning low in the grate, she looked up at him, her face pale in the lamplight and he saw that she had been crying. His heart melted and he made a move towards her and then caught himself up.

‘Liam!’ She tried to smile but failed miserably. He sank into a seat, keeping his distance and cleared his throat.

‘I’m going home to Ireland.’ There it was said. He saw her eyes, unfathomable in the darkness, looking into him. ‘It’s no use pretending to myself any more that you’ll marry me, is it?’

She shook her head slowly and the faint hope that had sprung within him died.

‘When will you leave?’ Her words were indistinct, he heard the hint of tears in her voice and he fought the urge to take her in his arms.

‘As soon as I can get a boat. I have to get back to the farm too; I’m needed there, can’t trust labourers to do the work properly without supervision. And there’s Patricia’s child to think of, I
have
to go home, Catherine.’

‘I know.’ She spoke softly. Her shoulders were slumped, she seemed lost and miserable. ‘Catherine, what’s wrong, what’s troubling you?’ Even as he asked the question, he cursed himself for not walking away.

‘I thought making a decision about my future would be so easy but now I’m not so sure, about Boyo, about anything.’

‘Have you told Hopkins how you feel?’ Liam was unable to repress the surge of triumph the thought evoked in him.

‘Not yet. His wife has told him she wants a divorce.’

‘Well then?’ Liam’s tone was sharper than he had intended. ‘Where’s the problem?’

‘Mrs Hopkins wants to have a meeting with us both, she wants to talk things over, she says.’

‘Oh, and when and where is this meeting?’ Liam asked flatly, as though the matter did not interest him at all.

‘It was to be at the Mackworth but now she says she is sick, indisposed, we must go up to Ty Craig and meet with her there.’ She paused and looked towards the dying embers of the fire. ‘I know it sounds silly but I’m frightened. I don’t know what I want any more. What if she has an attack of hysterics, I don’t think I could face that.’

‘Then don’t go. Sure, I’m surprised at Hopkins for agreeing to such madness, the woman is not sane, in her own house she will be free to rant and rage against you all she wants.’

‘It’s not Boyo’s fault, he was angry because I didn’t want to talk to his wife. We quarrelled about it, he’s gone, perhaps back to her, I don’t know. The strain of it all is too much, it will destroy anything we once had between us.’

‘Look, Cath, your future is doomed if you stay with Hopkins, you’ve had no luck since you took up with him, have you? You just think about it.’

It was unfair of him to pressurize her at this moment when she was so low but Liam felt a sense of dread at the thought of leaving her at the mercy of Hopkins and his strange wife.

‘What do you mean?’ She was on the defensive and that made him angry.

‘You broke your father’s heart by the affair, your mother’s too; and look at the string of ill luck you’ve had. He’s no good for you, Catherine, he’s weak, can’t you see that?’

‘I don’t understand what you are trying to say,’ Catherine’s eyes searched his.

‘I’m saying, think about others for a change. There’s not just you and Hopkins to consider in all this, other people have been dragged into the mess, too; me and my family, have you forgotten that? And Mrs Grenfell, she’s lost everything, her home her business and very nearly her husband. She’s now reduced to living in this slum. If you are not convinced by all that, what of Doreen, involved in murder! What more do you want to happen before you see sense?’

Catherine was white-faced. ‘I know you are right,’ her voice was small, distant, ‘but what can I do?’

‘So you’ll beard the lion in her den, walk into that creepy old house like a lamb to the slaughter? I never thought I’d say this but you are as big a fool as Hopkins.’

Liam rose from the chair so abruptly that it tipped over and crashed against the floor. Without waiting to straighten it, he strode to the door and let himself out without another word.

Catherine hurried to follow him, to call him back but he was storming along the road without a backward glance. ‘Liam! Come back, I need you!’ But he was gone out of sight, out of her life. What had she done? She felt she had lost the best friend she had ever had. Boyo Hopkins had given her passion, he had aroused the woman in her, brought her fulfilment, but he had never been a friend, he had not brought her happiness. It was Liam who had been there when she needed support.

She returned to the silent house, too weary and sick even to cry.

‘It’s so wonderful, I want to go down on my knees and thank God for answering my prayers.’ Hari rose from the chair near the table where she had been sorting her mail, she glanced towards Craig, her eyes alight. He was reclining against the pillows, a copy of
The Swansea Times
in his hands. The morning light warmed the shabby furnishings, highlighting the grey in Craig’s hair. The rooms were as comfortable as Hari could make them but the smell of cats still lingered in spite of all her efforts.

‘Stop looking so smug and tell me what the unrestrained joy I see on your face is all about,’ Craig said.

‘Look,’ Hari moved towards the bed, ‘it’s from Clark’s in Somerset.’ She sat on the edge of the bed. ‘You know I wrote to the family a few weeks ago telling them of my situation and asking for their help and advice? Well, I have their answer.’

‘And? You tantalizing woman!’

‘And they are going to fund the business for a year to see if I can save it. Mr Clark Senior is warm in his praise for the way I have always conducted my business with him.’ She smiled. ‘He remembers my cheek in asking for a despatch of boots and shoes on the understanding that I make payment at a later date and admires me for my courage and enterprise.’

‘So this means a new start, another shot at success,’ Craig said, his eyes warm with pride as they rested on her. ‘I knew that you, with your indomitable spirit and your ingenious mind, would find a way out of our troubles.’

He waved his hand to encompass the shabby room. ‘It broke my heart to see you brought to this after all your years of hard work. I haven’t been much help either, have I?’

She took his hand and held it to her cheek. ‘Craig, I couldn’t have done any of it without you.

‘Another tiling, we won’t lose Summer Lodge, not now. We have only signed a short lease, soon Bethan Hopkins will have to get out of there. She might not be aware of that but she soon will be.’

‘Hey, how much money do you think the Clarks are going to advance you?’ Craig’s voice held a note of caution.

‘Enough,’ Hari said. ‘It makes better sense to utilize Summer Lodge than to try to rent and equip new premises. Until we can return we’ll have to manage to work from here, of course.’

Craig nodded. ‘I see the sense in that, yes. You are quite a wise old thing aren’t you?’

Hari tapped his hand. ‘Not so much of the “old” if you don’t mind. This morning, I am eighteen again, just starting out on a new business enterprise and with the man I love at my side; what more could I want?’

Even as she leaned forward to kiss her husband’s lips, Hari felt a shudder of fear as she thought of Bethan Hopkins, still out there, like a malevolent spirit just waiting for Hari to fall again.

‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have quarrelled with you, certainly not over Bethan and her foolish ideas.’ Boyo made a move towards her and then hesitated, aware of Catherine’s attitude of reserve.

‘What I’m trying to say is, if you think it’s the right thing to do then we’ll go up to Ty Craig, have this sorted out with Bethan once and for all.’ Catherine saw the distaste in his eyes as he looked around the dingy rooms.

‘In the meantime, you are to move your stuff out of here, I won’t see you starving and freezing in this hole any longer, not when I’ve money enough to make you comfortable.’

‘Let’s leave things as they are until we’ve spoken to your wife.’ There was an uneasy note in Catherine’s voice, Boyo’s eyes were shrewd as they rested upon her.

‘You are as reluctant to see her as I am, aren’t you?’ He regarded her steadily. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be there with you every moment, I won’t leave your side, I promise.’

‘I know. It’s very silly of me but something Liam said …’

‘Liam, he’s been here?’ Boyo heard the sharpness in his voice and immediately regretted it.

Catherine’s chin lifted. ‘Yes, he’s been here, to say goodbye, he’s going back to Ireland.’

‘I see,’ Boyo’s relief was evident in the easing of the tension around his eyes, ‘but what has he been saying to make you so uneasy?’

‘Oh, it’s nothing,’ Catherine waved the question aside, ‘it’s all too silly for words.’ How could she tell Boyo that she did not really know what she wanted any more? She was no longer sure of what her feelings for him or for Liam were.