Copper Kingdom (26 page)

Sam looked at him gravely. ‘Now Davie, I'm always being accused of putting my oar in where it shouldn't be but speak my mind I must. That Rosa is a flossy and has been since she was about twelve years old. Not her fault mind, her mam dying when she was little more than a babba, but for all that she's had more pokes than a worn-out archery target. Leopards don't change their spots, Davie, so for Gawd's sake look round, find a respectable woman, someone from the chapel so that you'll be well looked after in your old age.'

Davie had not moved a muscle all the while Sam had been speaking but when he looked up his eyes were cold. ‘About one thing, you're right, Sam, you shouldn't put your oar in where it's not wanted. Now leave me alone for there's my girl now and I don't want her upset, right?'

He put his arm around Rosa and she looked fine and pretty in her soft cotton blouse and dark skirt. She had done her hair up and if you didn't know of her past, Davie thought, you wouldn't pick her out from any other woman in a crowd. Except of course that chapel women did not go into public bars.

As Davie looked down into her eyes, he wondered if he would ever actually get around to marrying her, that he wanted her in his bed was positive enough and he was tired of her going on at him, wanting to be installed in the little cottage in Copperman's Row.

It was for Mali's sake that he hesitated, he did not wish to hurt his daughter for he knew that her memories of her Mam must be very precious and it was too soon to be asking for her approval of Rosa.

‘You're looking very handsome tonight, Davie.' As she snuggled up against him, Rosa smiled enticingly and he felt her hand touch his crotch for a brief instant. Even though such actions excited him, inwardly he disapproved of them for they were not ladylike and gave him pause to remember what her life had been like before he had come into it.

‘Behave yourself, there's a good girl,' he said sternly. He moved away from her a little and she pouted up at him.

‘You're in a bad mood with Little Rosa, what have I done now? You're always picking fault lately Davie, not growing tired of me are you?'

His face softened. ‘No girl, I'm not tired of you and if I was you'd be out on your ear right this minute, back to walking the streets. No, worried about Mali I am, she's been seen with the boss again, down at the cemetery, and I'm wondering what game they are playing.'

Rosa laughed low. ‘It's the oldest game in the world, Davie my fine boyo and don't you play it yourself often enough? It seems your girl is not much different to me for all that she turns her nose up whenever she sees me.'

‘Don't talk so daft.' Davie was stung by Rosa's words. Mali was a good girl, and though he was angry with her for being silly and giving folks room to talk, he did not believe for one moment that she would do anything bad.

‘You must learn to button that loose mouth of yours woman,' he said harshly. ‘It's no wonder some husbands used to bridle the tongues of their womenfolk.' He took her arm roughly.

‘Come on, we're getting out of here, I'm bone weary. I want to get home.' He led her through the doors of Maggie Dicks and out into the darkness, and a brooding sullenness had suddenly taken possession of him.

‘I'm sorry Davie,' Rosa whimpered as his grip on her arm tightened. ‘I didn't want to make you mad. Come on, give Rosa a kiss, a bit of lovin' always makes you feel better.' She pressed herself against him and in spite of himself Davie responded.

‘Come on then girl,' he said in a sudden mood of defiance. ‘Take you home I will and to hell with what other people say.'

Sterling closed the book with a snap of finality. It had been a long day and he had been in the office since early morning. He stretched his arms above his head and yawned, feeling that in spite of his weariness his energy had been well spent.

It had become clear to him as the spring had turned slowly into summer that Alwyn Travers had no intention of repaying the loan made by Sterling's father. Perhaps the man did not realise that records would be kept, he might even think that with the death of Arthur Richardson he was freed from any obligations, but he was soon to learn different.

Sterling had consulted with the firm's solicitors and they agreed that Alwyn Travers must be given one opportunity to make good his arrears on the mine and if he would not or could not meet the demand then he would be forced to vacate the property forthwith.

It was silent in the office, for Ben had long since left for home. His eyes had held an almost grudging glow of respect as he'd paused at the door to say good night.

‘I think you will do very well in this business, Mr Richardson.' He had been polishing his glasses in the way he always did when he was embarrassed. ‘You have a hard core of steel that was regrettably missing in your father, God rest his soul.'

Sterling had smiled ruefully. ‘It looks as though I must be hard, Ben,' he'd replied, ‘for everyone is depending on me for a living, from my mother to my young brother, not to mention my two partners.'

And it was true, Sterling thought ruefully, everyone seemed ready to criticise him but not one came up with any constructive alternatives.

He rose to his feet now and shrugged himself into his coat, it had been a warm day, hazy with heat, and even among the slag heaps flowers flourished, bleached white by the metal deposits in the ground, with bees droning through the petals looking for nectar.

It had been a day to make Sterling restless and even though his mind had been occupied with matters of business, there had been moments when he had thought deeply about Mali Llewelyn. He admitted to himself that she had almost become an obsession for he had tried to forget her sweetness and the softness of her lips and the scent of her long dark hair and yet her image had continued to haunt him. He knew that he would seek her out again for his feelings were more compelling than any common-sense arguments that he put forward for his own inspection.

He locked up the office and moved into the softness of the evening, pausing for a moment, not wishing to return to the loneliness of his hotel room. Impatiently, he started up the Ascot, feeling it throbbing into life as he sat in the driving seat. He nodded abruptly to the man on the gate and drove out into the mean streets that surrounded the works.

On an impulse, he parked the automobile at the corner near the Mexico Fountain and walked slowly along Copperman's Row. It was twilight now and so no one noticed him pausing outside the door of Mali's home.

He glanced through the lace-curtained window and saw a slender figure moving about within the soft glow of the gas light. He tapped the glass and a startled face turned towards him.

‘Sterling, what are you doing here?' Mali was at the door in an instant. She seemed distracted as she brushed back the hair that was hanging loose around her waist with trembling fingers. He touched it almost wonderingly and with a quick look along the row, Mali stepped outside and caught his arm, hurrying him away along Market Street and towards the canal.

‘My father is angry with me for making a show of myself,' she said breathlessly, ‘he musn't see us together or there'll be a hiding for me instead of words.' She seemed to realise then that she was clinging to his arm and she drew away self-consciously.

‘Sterling, there's nothing for us to say to each other.' She leaned against the wall that ran along the roadway and stared down into the dark waters of the canal. Sterling reached for her and drew her close and she rested her head on his shoulder as though she was very tired.

‘I thought you said you loved me,' he whispered softly, his mouth against the warmth of her neck. She moved away and her eyes were unreadable in the darkness but he could imagine them, vivid green and luminous, eyes that looked right through a man. A feeling of power was rising within him, there were no barriers he could not overcome, he wanted Mali Llewelyn, he might even be falling a little in love with her. He would possess her, he must rid himself of the fever that plagued him.

‘Mali,' he spoke urgently, ‘I need you, you must surely know that?' She moved like a startled faun within the circle of his arms, as though preparing for flight. He held her close, kissing her soft mouth passionately, oblivious to everything but his own desires.

Sterling sat at the dining table, holding a glass of wine and watching his mother, who seemed to be almost coquettish the way she fluttered her fan and giggled every now and then as though his remarks were the cleverest thing she'd heard in a long while. They had eaten their meal slowly and all the while, Sterling watched his mother carefully, wondering what was on her mind. Suddenly, Victoria leaned forward and rested her elbows on the table.

‘Now, Sterling, I think I'd better tell you why I've invited you here this evening, I'm sure you must be wondering about the way I've been gossiping nonstop. Well, it's sheer nerves. You may not know it but you are a very disconcerting person on times, even though you are my son.'

Sterling smiled at her indulgently. His mother was making a big issue of something that was doubtless quite unimportant; she had probably overspent and her allowance was running out.

‘All right, let's hear what you have to say and I promise to listen patiently whatever it is.'

Victoria was suddenly serious. She closed her fan with a snap and sat up straight in her chair and all at once she seemed young and vulnerable.

‘James wishes to come courting me.' Her cheeks were flushed and her eyelids half closed and there was an air of waiting as though she expected an outburst from Sterling.

‘I know it's rather soon after your dear father, after Arthur passed away but for the present the relationship between James and me will remain secret. I don't know if you'll approve or not, Sterling, I hope you will, but even if you don't it makes no difference. I am lonely and I feel I need some happiness from life.'

Sterling was stunned by her words. He remained silent, trying to combat his rising anger. ‘When has all this been going on?' He could hear the edge to his voice and saw Victoria look up at him defiantly. He watched as she opened and closed her fan and knew that she was more nervous than she appeared.

‘Nothing has been “going on”,' she said angrily. ‘James has come to call as a friend of the family, a good friend as he's been for years as well you know. It's simply that we both feel we have much to give each other, is that wrong?'

Sterling rose from his chair and moved across to the window, staring out into the grounds.

‘I don't like James Cardigan, Mother, I never have,' he said abruptly. ‘But it's your life and I can't very well tell you how to lead it.'

‘No you can not.' Victoria rose and threw down a napkin, ‘and as for not liking James, you have never given him a chance, how can you possibly claim to know what he's like?'

‘And where do you intend to make your home, Mother?' He ignored her question and put one of his own. ‘Not at Plas Rhianfa, I hope.' He turned to face her and he could see that she was very angry indeed, her face was flushed and her eyes sparkled with tears.

‘If I wish to live here when I'm married, then I will.' She spoke stormily. ‘This house may be part of your inheritance, Sterling, but I'm your mother and am entitled to live out my life here.'

He gave a short laugh. ‘You may not have the opportunity because the place is mortgaged to the hilt. It's a great barn of a house in any case and I may sell it even if the business improves.'

‘Oh, do what you like,' Victoria snapped back, ‘I'm just not going to speak to you any further. Good night.'

She strode across the room, her head high, her elegant silk skirt swirling round her feet.

As the door slammed behind his mother, Sterling rubbed his face tiredly. Why had he not handled the situation with more tact? Who was he to condemn his mother for her choice of marriage partner?

‘Good God, what was all that shouting about?' Rickie entered the room and stood staring at Sterling with such hostility in his set face that immediately there was an atmosphere of tension between the brothers.

‘None of your business,' Sterling said sharply and Rickie came further into the room, his lips set in a straight, thin line.

‘Nothing is ever any of my business according to you, is it? But this time you've succeeded in upsetting Mother as well.' He sat down at the dining table, his arms stretched out before him, and Sterling noted that his brother, who was always willing to do battle with words, was taking care that his physical attitudes did not provoke violence. ‘What's wrong with you?' Rickie demanded. ‘You're power crazed. Taking over the company has gone right to your head.' He glanced up sharply.

‘And while you're here perhaps you could answer some questions for me.' He leaned back in his chair, hands thrust into his pockets, another unconscious attitude of self defence, Sterling mused.

‘Why are you persecuting the Travers family? First you sack Glanmor without any warning and then if that wasn't enough, you send his brother notice that you intend to foreclose on the mortgage. Don't you realise that Alwyn has a wife and child to take care of?'

‘And since when have you been so concerned with the plight of others?' Sterling demanded. ‘If you think I'm going to give you explanations you can go to hell!'

‘Oh, all very gentlemanly and articulate,' Rickie jeered, ‘resorting to expletives now are we?'

‘We haven't all had the benefit of a college education as you have,' Sterling replied. ‘And if you don't shut your mouth, you'll find my fist filling it.' He clenched his hands, moving forward a pace, but as Rickie jerked backwards in his chair, Sterling's anger suddenly faded.