Beggars and Choosers (17 page)

Hearing footsteps on the stairs a full hour before Owen's dinnertime, she jumped up, set the stew pan on the hob, and returned to her scrubbing. Owen had pointed out the marks to her that morning and complained the house was looking neglected under her care. He would be furious if he returned to find the floor still dirty, and his fury meant a beating with his belt ...

‘Sali,' Owen stood in front of her, his blood- and mud-stained boots planted firmly on the boards she had just scrubbed, ‘you have a visitor.'

She wiped her hands on her overall and rose. Mr Richards stood behind Owen, his opinion of his surroundings evident from his shocked expression, but he recovered sufficiently to remove his hat and offer her his hand.

‘Mrs Bull, I had hoped to see you sooner to congratulate you, but your husband said you were too busy to receive visitors.'

She checked her hands. They were chapped, bleeding and grimy from constant immersion in water, soda and chloride of lime, her nails were cracked and split, and her arms to her elbows were covered in a film of dirt. ‘My hands aren't clean, Mr Richards.' She went to the tin bowl on the stand and washed them. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?'

‘No, but thank you for asking, Mrs Bull.' He turned to Owen. ‘May I speak to Mrs Bull alone?'

‘Being a bachelor, you may not realise there is a sacred bond between husband and wife, Mr Richards.' Owen sat in the only easy chair. ‘My wife has no secrets from me.'

‘Please, won't you sit down?' Sali pulled two chairs out from the table. Mr Richards sat on one and looked expectantly at her. Steeling herself, she winced as the hard wooden seat pressed against her cuts and bruises.

He looked intently at her. ‘As your solicitor as well as legal guardian, Mrs Bull, I have to ask you if this marriage was of your own volition.'

Acutely conscious of Owen monitoring every word being said, she murmured, ‘Yes.'

‘You are aware of the dowry your father left you?'

‘Yes.'

‘Mr Bull has applied for it to be paid to him. I suggested that it should be used to set up a trust fund for you and any children of this marriage.'

‘A suggestion I am opposed to,' Owen interrupted. ‘I am head of this household and I handle my family's financial affairs.'

‘Are you happy with that arrangement, Mrs Bull?' Mr Richards probed gently.

Mr Richard's caring concern coming after a month of contempt, hostility and abuse from Owen was more than Sali could bear. She stifled a sob.

‘As you see, Mr Richards, my wife is incapable of conducting a normal conversation, let alone making a considered decision about her financial affairs.'

‘Your wife looks ill, Mr Bull,' Mr Richards commented tersely.

‘I agree, but without a maid to fuss over her, she has let herself go. Most days, I or my sister have to remind her to wash herself and comb her hair.'

Ashamed and embarrassed of her filthy state and unkempt hair, Sali tried to brush it away from her face with her fingers. ‘I am all right, really, Mr Richards,' she protested unconvincingly, terrified of what Owen might do to her after Mr Richards left, if she said anything else.

‘Are you?' Mr Richards gazed at their miserable surroundings.

She wondered if her Uncle Morgan had told Mr Richards why he'd married her off so suddenly. Surely it had to be blatantly apparent to everyone in Pontypridd by now. Bitterly ashamed of her state and her condition, unable to lie to a man she had known and respected all her life, she gazed down at her lap.

‘You assured me that once you had seen and talked to my wife, you would release her dowry. Well, you have seen her.' Owen left his chair, effectively putting an end to the visit.

‘You are determined to ignore my advice about setting up a trust fund, Mr Bull?' Mr Richards made one last attempt to persuade Owen to change his mind.

‘From my understanding, my wife's late father attached no conditions to the payment of the dowry.' Owen towered over the elderly man seated at his table.

Refusing to be intimidated, Mr Richards left the chair and faced Owen. ‘You may pick up the cheque from my office next week.'

‘I have already waited one month. It would suit me to receive it sooner.'

‘The late Mr Watkin Morgan invested the money in a high-interest fund that requires notice.'

‘There is interest to be paid?' Owen puckered his lips and his small, mean features disappeared into folds of fat.

‘None,' Mr Richards replied flatly. ‘The money in the investment account has been set aside to cover family trusts and dowries besides Mrs Bull's. The three thousand pounds is a single, once only payment, which is why I consider it vital you set up a trust fund.'

‘I will decide how best to support my wife, Mr Richards.'

‘None of us knows what lies ahead, Mr Bull.'

‘How is my aunt?' Sali enquired, desperate for news but even more concerned that Mr Richards didn't provoke Owen any more than he already had.

‘Of course, you wouldn't know, Mrs Bull.' He smiled at her. ‘She is out of her coma. Her speech is affected and she has limited movement in her right arm, but the doctor is cautiously optimistic that she will make progress. She will never be quite the same as before, but he is confident of a partial recovery. She would be delighted to receive a visit from you.'

‘My wife does not go out into society, Mr Richards.'

‘Surely a visit by your wife to her aunt cannot be classed as going out into society, Mr Bull?'

‘Given my wife's circumstances, it is out of the question,' Owen snapped.

‘Please, Mr Richards,' Sali begged, ‘tell Aunt Edyth that I was asking after her and give my love.'

‘I will.' Mr Richards took his hat from the table and placed it on his head. ‘As Mrs Bull's guardian, may I call on her, again, Mr Bull?'

‘My wife is of age, and no longer requires a guardian to oversee her affairs, so any visit would be inappropriate, Mr Richards. As you see, her circumstances have changed. We live very quietly and simply.'

‘If you ever need anything, anything at all, Mrs Bull, you know where to find me.' Mr Richards took her hand into both of his and shook it warmly.

‘Goodbye, Mr Richards, and thank you for bringing me news of my aunt.' Sali sank to her knees as Owen closed the door behind him and Mr Richards. Picking up the scrubbing brush, she set about the stain again, in the hope that Owen wouldn't return for another hour, by which time she might have lifted the smears from the unvarnished wood.

‘Sali?'

She turned to see Owen standing behind her.

‘Whose house is this?'

‘Yours, Owen.' Her hands shook and her heart beat faster.

‘Then why did you offer Mr Richards tea?'

‘I didn't think ...' She fell silent.

‘You didn't think! You never think!' He slammed his fist on the kitchen table, sending the cutlery rattling in the drawer. ‘I take you into my home. I give you and the bastard you are carrying a roof over your heads. I feed and clothe you. I give you my name and hold myself up to ridicule by conferring respectability where there should be only scorn and disgust. I allow you to live with my brother and my sister, exposing them to your corrupt and sinful ways and how do you repay me?' Red-faced, livid, he glared at her. She knew he expected an answer but all she could do was hang her head. ‘Into the bedroom.'

Tears rolled down her cheeks and she hung back.

‘Even now, when I am trying to teach you the error of your ways, you dare to disobey me. Into the bedroom,' he repeated.

She led the way; he walked in behind her and closed the door. ‘You know what to do.'

Eyes downcast she removed her drawers and knelt on the bed. He threw back her smock and petticoats, exposing her buttocks. Then he unbuckled his belt.

Afterwards, when he was buttoning his trousers, he asked, ‘What is a wife's first duty?'

‘Obedience,' she muttered, choking back her sobs.

‘May God forgive you for your denial of his ways and lead you back to the paths of righteousness. Tonight you will pray, naked and on your knees for one hour. Perhaps that will teach you the humility you so sorely need.'

‘Thank you for coming to see me, Mrs Williams. I appreciate it couldn't have been easy for you to get away. Please sit down.' Edyth James indicated the easy chair set across the hearth from her own in her drawing room. ‘Will you ask the maid to bring us some tea please, Jenkins?'

Ill-at-ease at being treated as a visitor by one of the gentry, Mari sat awkwardly and looked shyly across at Edyth. The old woman's skin was so pale it was translucent and every vein could be seen beneath its parchment surface. Thin to the point of skeletal, she half-sat, half-lay, against the pillows propped against the backrest of her chair. Her feet were propped on a stool, her legs covered by a plaid travelling rug, but despite her fragility, there was strength and resolution in the way she held herself and a determined sparkle in her deep blue eyes. Mari suddenly understood why Sali loved her so much. A woman who had the courage to fight a stroke wouldn't baulk at defending someone she loved, even if it meant crossing Morgan Davies.

‘How are you, Mrs James?' Mari enquired, as a parlour maid wheeled a tea trolley on to the hearthrug between them.

‘Fighting,' Edyth answered dryly. ‘Not fighting fit yet, but battling to get there. Leave us please, Davies,' Edyth ordered the girl. ‘Mrs Williams will serve me.'

The girl curtsied and closed the door behind her.

‘Have you seen Sali?' Edyth asked, as soon as they were alone.

‘I have tried, but Mr Bull keeps her in the house. Tomas and I have called in the shop several times, but if Mr Bull sees us he asks us to leave, and he has instructed his brother and sister not to allow anyone upstairs. Unfortunately, we have no excuse to go to Mill Street other than to visit Sali, since Mr Morgan has taken on the responsibility of dealing with the tradesmen and ordering in the household goods.'

‘Hasn't Morgan Davies anything better to do than play housekeeper to Danygraig House?' Edyth enquired acidly.

Mari would have loved to have commented, but remembering her position, refrained. ‘I tried to give Mr Bull's sister a letter for Miss Sali but she wouldn't take it.'

‘Has anyone seen Sali?' Edyth looked impatiently at Mari. ‘I know it's not done for a housekeeper to criticise those regarded by some as her betters, but you have my word that nothing you say within these walls will go any further. This is Sali we are talking about, Mrs Williams. And I know that you are as fond of her as I am.'

‘She couldn't be more precious to me if she was my own flesh and blood,' Mari burst out fervently. ‘And when I think of the way Mr Morgan spirited her out of the house and married her off to that butcher, I could strangle him with my bare hands.'

‘If only Sali had come here,' Edyth murmured disconsolately.

‘None of us thought you were going to recover,' Mari observed bluntly.

‘Has anyone seen Sali since Mr Richards visited her last October?' Edyth pressed.

‘Master Geraint, Master Gareth and Miss Llinos wanted to see her when they came home at Christmas. Mr Morgan wouldn't hear of it and forbid them to go near Mill Street, but Miss Sali did send them a letter on Christmas Day. No presents, just a letter. Master Geraint knew how worried I was about her so he showed it to me. It was her writing all right, I'd recognise it anywhere, but it didn't sound a bit like her and at the bottom of the page there was just one line – “Remember me to the servants.” Not a word about Tomas or me, just that.'

‘What is the gossip in the town?' Edyth looked Mari in the eye. ‘Come on, Mrs Williams, I know Pontypridd, there is bound to be some and if you don't tell me, no one else will. Mr Richards was dreadfully upset when he saw Sali, but he has had no success in trying to see her since. Morgan refuses to visit me and won't allow Sali's brothers or sister here either. That only leaves you and Tomas.' Edyth sank back on to her pillows. ‘Forgive me if I'm asking too much, I know you risked your job to come here. It couldn't have been easy for you to get away this evening and I am grateful.'

‘Even I am entitled to a night off every fortnight, Mrs James, although to be honest I wouldn't have risked it if Mr Morgan was in town.'

‘He's away?' Edyth enquired.

‘In Cardiff at a Methodist conference.' Mari poured two cups of tea. ‘You take milk and sugar, don't you, Mrs James?'

‘Two sugars, please.'

Mari handed her a cup of tea, took one of the crumpets and set it on a plate.

‘My appetite isn't what it used to be, but don't let that stop you from eating,' Edyth demurred.

‘It doesn't seem right to eat in front of you, Mrs James.'

‘Please, you do me an honour by being my guest, Mrs Williams. I am not short of visitors but I have no one, apart from Mr Richards, with whom I can discuss Sali.'

‘I've heard that Miss Sali and Mr Bull's sister live in fear of him and it's common knowledge that he bullies his half-witted brother unmercifully because everyone who goes to Penuel Chapel has seen him doing it.'

‘Who told you that Mr Bull's sister and Sali are afraid of him, Mrs Williams?'

Mari hesitated before blurting, ‘Mrs Hughes, the tanner's wife who lives next door to Mr Bull's shop.'

‘She has seen Sali?'

‘In the yard, but not to talk to. She told me she looks very poor in all ways and Mr Bull works her half to death. He makes no allowances for her ...' Mari paused, ‘condition.'

‘Could she talk to Sali?'

‘Mr Bull doesn't allow anyone to go near Sali except his brother and sister. But Mrs Hughes does talk to Mr Bull's sister, Rhian, sometimes. I tried giving Mrs Hughes a letter and money to pass on to Miss Sali but she wouldn't take it, no more than Mr Bull's sister would. She said Owen Bull watches every single thing that goes in and out of that house like a cat at a mouse hole and if he suspected someone was passing on any extras to his sister or Sali, it would ... it would ...'