Paradise Park (24 page)

At last, tired and sad, Rhiannon turned back. She felt bone weary, and there was little chance of finding Sal now.

Sal sat in the shabby room at the back of the Salubrious Inn and stared at the stranger, who was in a great haste to take off his clothes. She shifted uneasily in her chair, feeling cold in her chemise, which was none too clean. It was as if she was living in a nightmare that had taken her back in time to the bad days when she was a whore for any man who would pay her.

‘Come on, then, gel, what you doing just sitting there? Get your things off, let the dog see the bone.'

He stood over her and Sal could smell the beer on his breath. Her stomach heaved, as she slid the strap of her chemise off her shoulder. ‘No need to rush, mister, we got all night.'

‘You might have, but I got to get home to my missus so hurry yourself up, will you?'

‘But I thought I was getting a bed for the night out of this,' Sal said dismally. ‘You promised we'd stay here till morning.'

‘Never mind that, gel, I'm not made of money. It's a quick tumble for me and then I'm off home.'

Sal gathered her clothes together. ‘You said a night's bed and board.'

The man grabbed her thin arm. ‘I'm not letting you off that easily, my girl. I was expecting a good time and you're going to give it me.'

Sal remembered the humiliation she'd suffered, as well as the beatings, and at the hands of a man just like this. Well, she wasn't going to be a soft fool any longer. Her foot shot out and caught the man between the legs.

‘You whoring bitch!' He fell to the floor, his hands between his legs. ‘I'll kill you for this, you just watch me.'

Sal rushed down the stairs and out of the back door into the darkness, pulling on her clothes as she went. She ran blindly along the streets, not knowing where she was going but determined to put as much distance between the Salubrious Inn and herself as she could manage.

She headed into Potato Street and pulled up sharply as the tall figure of a man came towards her. She shrank back against the wall but he stopped close by and peered at her through the darkness. ‘Are you all right?' he said quietly. ‘Don't be afraid. I'm Seth Cullen and I've been working at the Paradise Park.'

Sal didn't move; she was frozen to the spot with fear. She swallowed hard and tried to talk but her voice wouldn't come.

‘I won't hurt you – it's just that you look like you need help.' He stepped closer. ‘Poor little thing, you're not much more than a child. What are you doing out here on your own?'

Sal forced herself to speak; ‘I'm looking for somewhere to stay the night. My dad's thrown me out and I got nowhere to go.' It was an outright lie but she could hardly tell the truth and land herself in more hot water.

‘Look, let me take you to the Paradise Park. It's gone all respectable now, with Bull Beynon's woman in charge. You must know Rhiannon. Everyone in Swansea's heard of her, a bad girl made good an' all that.'

‘Rhiannon's in the hotel?' Sal felt her heart lift with hope. ‘You are telling me the truth aren't you?'

‘I said you'd know her. Let me take you in and get her for you, I promise I'm not out to hurt you. I'll walk,' he smiled, and she saw the shine of his teeth, ‘or rather I'll
limp
in front of you.' He patted his leg. ‘It's false, see, accident on the railway.'

His words reassured Sal and, slowly, she followed him up the steps of the hotel and into the dimly lit foyer. ‘Rhiannon!' he shouted, at the top of his voice.

Abruptly a door opened, and Rhiannon was looking at Sal in disbelief.

‘Oh, Rhiannon, thank God I've found you!' Sal ran into her arms. ‘I can't do it any more – I can't give myself to any drunk for a few pence just to be thrown to one side like a stray animal. I'd rather starve to death!'

‘There's no need to starve, Sal.' Rhiannon held her close. ‘I've been looking for you all evening. I've got work for you here, honest work like we did up at Mrs Buchan's house. Mrs Jones is here too and it'll be like old times with the three of us together, you'll see.'

With Rhiannon's arms around her, Sal felt a deep sense of calm: she was going to be with her old friends and have a respectable job again. But for now the promise of a good meal and warm bed was enough happiness for anyone in one day.

LLINOS OPENED HER
eyes and stared at the long dress hanging on the wardrobe door. She admired how the light fell on the silk folds of the old-gold skirt and told herself that soon, the day after tomorrow, she would be wearing that dress and promising to be Mrs Eynon Morton-Edwards.

Her features softened. Dear Eynon, he was so excited, just like a child waiting for a birthday gift. She fell back against the pillows and stared at the ceiling, wondering how it would feel to leave the pottery house. She would no longer look out of the windows and see the bottle kilns shimmering in the morning mists, or hear the apprentices calling to each other as they carried the pots to be fired. And, worst of all, she wouldn't have the close companionship of her dear partner Watt, who had always been like a brother to her. She would miss it all, there was no doubt of that, but she needed to start again, to live in a house where every corner did not resonate with the shadow of her husband, Joe. In Eynon's fine house overlooking the sea, she could make new memories in place of the old ones.

Llinos ate a leisurely breakfast of toast and honey, and later did her rounds of the pottery sheds, telling herself that she could come back here any time if she missed the old place. Eynon had suggested putting the pottery up for sale but Llinos balked at the idea: she preferred to leave Watt in charge of everything. He would manage without her: since Joe had died she had left most of the business to him anyway.

Llinos sighed. Marriage to Eynon meant giving up more than the pottery: it meant giving up her personal freedom too and now, with the wedding day drawing near, she wasn't sure she was ready for it.

She made her way into the painting shed and watched as one of the decorators worked on a transfer pattern, filling in the colours by hand with great delicacy.

‘Morning, Llinos, you're looking happy. Thinking about your husband-to-be, are you?'

Llinos turned to see Watt standing over her. His hands were streaked with paint and there was a dab of colour on his cheek. She drew him towards the door. ‘I think I'm getting cold feet,' she said, her voice low. ‘Will I like being a wife again, after all this time?'

‘Wedding nerves,' Watt said. ‘Everyone gets them, Llinos, or was your first wedding so long ago you've forgotten that?'

‘Hey, cheeky!' Llinos slapped his arm playfully. ‘I'm not that ancient!' She sobered. ‘Oh, Watt, am I doing the right thing?'

‘Of course you are, Llinos. You've known Eynon since you were both children.' He smiled. ‘You know you love him and it's obvious to everyone, even me, and I'm pretty dense when it comes to feelings – or I was once.'

‘You've always given me the right advice when I needed it.'

‘And I'm giving you good advice now, Llinos. Marry Eynon, put all your doubts to one side. I think this marriage will be the making of you.'

‘All right. I'll pretend I'm a young girl again, marrying my first love. It's a bit of a stretch for an old lady but if I try hard enough I might just succeed.'

‘Rubbish! Anyway, you're as beautiful now as you were when I first set eyes on you.' Watt smiled down at her. ‘I was nine and you were about sixteen. I thought you were beauty, spirit and intelligence rolled into one. Had I been born in more privileged circumstances I'd have wanted you for my own.'

‘Oh, Watt, you've never said anything like that before.'

‘Well, I'm older and I know that in Rosie I've got the best wife any man could want, but now I can express my appreciation of you as I never did when I was young. I suppose I understand the world a little better. That's what getting on in years does for you.'

‘Oh, Watt,' Llinos kissed his cheek, ‘I don't know what I'd have done without you all these years. You've been my right-hand man always.'

Watt laughed. ‘Except when I was off on my travels, but I was always glad to come home.'

‘And I was always glad to see you. Now, enough of that, I'd better get indoors and sort out some more patterns. After today it will be your job to make up fresh designs. We need to be a bit more modem now to keep up with other potteries.'

‘I hear you, boss.' Watt smiled.

Llinos gave him a playful slap and left him to get on with his work. As she walked slowly back to the house she was feeling more at ease with herself: as Watt had pointed out, it was natural to feel nervous at the thought of being married again, especially at her age. Still, she would make Eynon a good wife and they would share their last years together and be happy.

Bull Beynon walked into the shed where one of the engines of the Great Western Railway stood idle. The inspection was to be carried out by Mr Steel, an engineer who was more experienced than himself.

‘Morning, Beynon. You've kept the rolling-stock in good condition, I'm glad to say, although in this weather it's difficult to inspect anything properly. Your reputation precedes you – we all know you treat this railway of yours as if it was your own child.'

‘Morning to you, Mr Steel. I'm glad we meet with your approval.' Bull spoke easily: he was always at home with other men who loved the railway. ‘What's this talk about bringing in the narrow gauge, though? Is there any substance in the rumour?'

Mr Steel scratched his beard. ‘Aye, there's talk, but that's all it is right now. I can't see the broad gauge being replaced for years yet.'

‘So, you think it will come one day?' Bull thrust his hands in his pockets. ‘It would be a mistake. The wheels of an engine running on a narrow-gauge track won't be as stable as they are on the broad gauge.'

Mr Steel sighed heavily. ‘We know that, Beynon, but the powers-that-be have different ideas. Anyway, my job's done for now. Let's go and have a beer in one of your excellent taverns, shall we?'

Bull led the way out of the shed and indicated the Terminus Inn, a short distance from the yard. The men fell into step and Bull mused on what Steel had told him. Why, he wondered, did folk have to interfere with something that was working perfectly well? Brunel had invented the broad gauge and he was a man who knew what he was doing.

The public bar was almost empty, though a haze of smoke drifted in the air and the smell of stale tobacco permeated the room. ‘I'll sit by the fire, Beynon, and you call the landlord over. We'll have a good draught of ale to oil our wheels.' He laughed at his own joke, and as soon as he sat down he refilled his pipe, pushing the tobacco into the bowl with practised fingers.

Bull called the landlord, then sat on the old wooden settle beside Steel. ‘It's a filthy day and the rain's getting worse.' Bull frowned. Katie had gone into town this morning with the baby. He hoped she would cut short her shopping trip and take a cab home.

‘Well, at least we're in by the fire, Beynon. No need for us to prolong the inspection, not with a man like you in charge.'

The landlord brought the drinks, which saved Bull making a reply; praise always embarrassed him. The beer was dark and bitter, just as he liked it, and he drank with relish.

‘I've been asked to speak to you this morning, Beynon,' Steel said, wiping the white froth of the beer from his moustache.

Bull looked at him, trying to read his expression, but the man's head was lowered and it was difficult to guess what he was thinking. ‘Speak to me about what?' he prompted.

‘How would you like to be a magistrate at the Sessions, Beynon? Swansea needs men of character like you to sit on the bench.'

Bull was taken by surprise. This was not what he had expected. He rubbed his chin, giving himself time to think. ‘What would it entail?' He didn't want to be involved in anything that took him away from his work on the railway.

‘Well, you'd be expected to make decisions that are fair and just. It's no easy thing to commit a man to prison. It wouldn't take up all your time – you would still have your job on the railway. As you get older, though, you might find it easier to be a judge than a railwayman.'

Bull couldn't see that time ever coming, but he needed to give the matter serious consideration. He would speak to Katie and see what she thought of the idea of her husband sitting in judgement on those less fortunate than himself. ‘I'm very flattered but I'd like time to think about it,' Bull said slowly. ‘I love my work on the railway and I never did see myself ever going for something like this.'

‘It would be a great step up for you and, as I said, we need men of your sort.'

The two men drank in silence. After a time Steel put down his tankard. ‘I'd better be going. I've got a report to write and that's a job I hate.' He stood up and laid his hand on Bull's shoulder. ‘Don't move, you just sit here and finish your drink, then go home and talk to your wife. Bull,' he lowered his voice, ‘I want you to take the job – it's an honour you deserve.'

Bull sat for a long time staring into the fire. He knew that Steel was right: being elected a magistrate was a mark of honour the town bestowed on a man who was seen to be honest and true. Usually men of education and high birth formed the judiciary, and Bull had come from the working people of the town. Still, he would wait to see what Katie had to say about it. She was a fount of common sense and would tell him exactly what she thought. He finished his beer and got to his feet.

At the door of the inn, he collided with a woman. He held her away from him in embarrassment. ‘I'm so sorry,' he said.

‘Bull! Watch where you're going – you nearly knocked me off my feet. I'm quite shaken up.'