Paradise Park (38 page)

Eynon shook his head. ‘You know it didn't. I never knew what real happiness was until the day you married me.'

‘Well, then, let your daughter find happiness while she's young. Now, let's change the subject, shall we? How about this invitation to the opening ceremony of the Paradise Park Hotel? I'm sure you'd like to go. Weren't you interested in buying the place at one time?'

‘I was, but I'm not sure I want to go to the opening. Everyone will be gawping at us, talking behind their hands about my daughter running off with another man. I'm not sure I could put up with that.'

Llinos took his hand in hers. ‘You put up with it when I was disgraced, or have you forgotten that?'

‘That was different,' Eynon said.

‘How was it different? You loved me then, so you say, and you were still my friend. Gossip didn't turn you against me, did it?'

Eynon smiled. ‘All right, then, we'll go to the blasted ceremony, if that's what you really want.'

‘In that case,' Llinos said playfully, ‘you'd better take me to town to pick up my new hat and gown.'

Eynon stood up and took her into his arms. ‘You wicked woman, you know how to get round a man when it comes to spending his money.'

Llinos disengaged herself from his embrace. ‘Well, my secret's out, I married you for your money.'

Eynon picked up a cushion and made a pretence of throwing it at her. ‘Get out, woman, before I give you the good hiding you deserve.'

Llinos closed the door behind her and sighed. She'd persuaded Eynon to mingle with the Swansea gentry at the hotel ceremony but she knew it would be an ordeal for both of them. As Eynon had pointed out, folk would be pointing them out as the odd couple.

She could imagine what they would be saying: that she was no better than she should be and now her stepdaughter was going down the same road. Still, the gossips would have to be faced at some time, and tomorrow was as good a day as any.

As the day wore on, Rhiannon's concern for Mrs Paisley grew and by tea-time she knew the old lady was really ill. She sent Violet to fetch Dr Frost and was amazed when the girl came back almost at once, tears trembling on her lashes.

‘What on earth's wrong, Vi?' Rhiannon caught her arm. ‘Why isn't the doctor with you?'

‘He was so strange. He told me he had better things to do than run up to the Paradise Park every five minutes.'

Rhiannon frowned. ‘That doesn't sound like Dr Frost. Are you sure he wasn't sick himself?'

‘His face was like a thunder cloud when I told him he was needed here.'

Rhiannon wondered what on earth had come over him. Why was he acting so strangely?

‘All right, go and fetch another doctor, Vi, there's a good girl, and be quick about it.'

Rhiannon didn't have time to worry about Richard's strange behaviour because Mrs Paisley suddenly took a turn for the worse. Her breathing was laboured and her face was like parchment.

Rhiannon sat at her side, a bowl of cool rosewater on a table nearby. Every few minutes she dipped the cloth in the bowl and bathed Mrs Paisley's burning forehead. By the time Violet returned with the doctor, an old man with a white beard and a kindly look in his eyes, Mrs Paisley was asleep.

‘Her breathing's bad, Doctor,' Rhiannon said, ‘and she hasn't opened her eyes for over an hour.'

The doctor listened to the old woman's heart for what seemed a long time, then shook his head. Rhiannon knew what that meant and a great dread filled her. Mrs Paisley couldn't die, not now when they were so near their moment of triumph.

‘How long?' Rhiannon whispered.

The doctor snapped his bag shut. ‘There's no telling. It might be hours, might be days.'

Rhiannon made an effort to think straight. She must see that the doctor was paid for his services. She followed him from the room. ‘Your bill, Doctor, do you think you could send it up to me? I don't want to leave Mrs Paisley alone for too long.'

The old doctor nodded, and Rhiannon watched him go downstairs and through the door with a feeling of dread. She wanted to drag him back although she knew there was nothing he could do.

When Rhiannon returned to the room Mrs Paisley's eyes were open. The old woman held up her hand and Rhiannon took it. ‘You must promise me you'll go on with the Grand Opening, or I'll not rest easy.' It was an effort for her to talk: each word came out as a gasp.

‘I promise,' Rhiannon said, her voice full of tears.

Mrs Paisley patted her hand. ‘You're a good girl, the finest I've ever met.' She closed her eyes wearily. ‘You've been like the daughter I never had and I'm proud of you, girl, so proud.'

Rhiannon fought the tears that burnt in her eyes. ‘And you've been better than a mother to me. Don't leave me, please, don't leave me.'

Mrs Paisley gave a big sigh and then, as Rhiannon watched, the breath left her body.

Rhiannon didn't know how long she sat there holding the cold hand, refusing to believe Mrs Paisley was gone from her for ever. It was only when Mrs Jones came into the room and took Rhiannon in her arms that she began to cry great gulping sobs that hurt her chest.

‘There, there,' Mrs Jones said gently, ‘you did all you could, girl, no one could have done more. Come downstairs and let me make you a nice hot cup of tea. That will make you feel better.'

Rhiannon allowed herself to be led downstairs and into the warm kitchen, which was full of the smell of bread baking. The fire was blazing in the hearth but suddenly Rhiannon began to shiver. She knew in that moment that her life, without Mrs Paisley, was never going to be the same again.

BULL STARED AT
the invitation to the Grand Opening of the Paradise Park, not sure that it was wise for him to attend. It was Rhiannon's moment of triumph, setting the seal on her efforts to put her past behind her and be a respectable citizen of Swansea. She wouldn't want him there as a reminder of what she'd once been.

He sank into his chair, looked around the elegant room and pondered on his own rise from navvy to inspector and manager; his comfortable home had been made his by the goodwill of the engineers on the Swansea line, men who respected his knowledge of the Great Western Railway. It was a lovely home, yet without a loving wife to share it with him it seemed empty.

When he heard a knock on the front door he looked up in surprise. It was seldom that he had visitors: his only callers were the tradesmen selling bread or milk. After a few moments, the maid showed Seth Cullen into the room and he stood there, his hat in his hand, looking anxiously at Bull.

‘Good to see you, Seth, sit down.' Bull could hardly fail to see how Seth had changed over the years. He was no longer the wild-drinking, fast-living navvy he'd once been: now he was smartly dressed, his hair neatly combed and his one boot polished so that you could see your face in it.

‘I have to talk to you, Bull.' Seth rubbed his hands together. ‘It's about Rhiannon.'

Bull felt a dart of anxiety. ‘She isn't sick again, is she?'

Seth shook his head. ‘No, nothing like that. She's upset, though. Did you hear that old Mrs Paisley died yesterday?'

‘I didn't know, and I'm very sorry. She was a grand old lady and very fond of Rhiannon. Is that why you're here? Does Rhiannon want me to see to the burial arrangements for her?'

‘No, Rhiannon will do all that herself. No, I'm worried about the hotel's Grand Opening tonight. That's what I've come about.'

Bull was finding it hard to follow Seth's line of conversation. ‘Want a drink, Seth?'

‘Aye, a drop of whisky would go down well.'

Bull poured the drinks and handed a glass to Seth. ‘Now, what's this all about? Tell me slowly and clearly.'

‘Well, when the old lady was taken sick, Dr Frost wouldn't come and see to her, right nasty he was to one of the maids. I'm afraid he might cause trouble tonight just to shame Rhiannon.'

Bull was more confused than ever. ‘Why on earth would he do that? The man admires Rhiannon.'

‘Aye, well, that's just the trouble.' Seth looked uneasily into his glass. ‘I think I let the cat out of the bag – you know, about Rhiannon's past.'

Bull was beginning to see what Seth was getting at. ‘You told him Rhiannon was once a shanty-town woman?'

‘Aye, I did. Didn't mean no harm, mind, I thought everybody knew. I don't care about such things but the doctor is cut of a different cloth from you and me. He went as purple as a ripe plum when I told him and I thought he was going to burst.'

‘Well, that was silly of you, Seth, you should have kept your mouth shut – but perhaps it's just as well the truth came out sooner rather than later.'

‘It won't end there, though, Bull. I think the doctor is going to make a nuisance of himself. I heard him going on about it to some old geezer in the Beaufort Inn. He's a bitter man and he didn't like being made a fool of. Right peeved, he was, I can tell you.'

‘All right, Seth, leave it with me.' Bull got up from his chair. ‘You did the right thing coming to me, but keep quiet about it.'

‘Oh, don't you worry, I've learned my lesson and I won't say nothing to no one else.'

Bull followed him to the front door. ‘How are you and Sal getting on? I gather you're sweet on her.'

‘Aye, I mean to marry her one day. I don't care nothing about her past, that's dead and gone. I love the Sal she is now.' He looked up at Bull. ‘I'm not like that Dr Frost, no, sir.'

When Seth had gone Bull picked up the invitation. He would go to the hotel tonight, if only to see that there was no trouble. Carefully, he tucked the invitation into his pocket. He'd be damned if he'd let Frost ruin everything Rhiannon had worked for.

Rhiannon watched the preparations for the evening's event with a heavy heart. Mrs Paisley was lying in the chapel of rest and she should be here enjoying the moment for which they'd both worked so hard. Nevertheless she had promised to go ahead with the Grand Opening and she meant to keep her word.

In the kitchen, Mrs Jones was organizing everyone with the ease of long practice. The other cooks hired for the occasion were happy to take direction from her and even Violet and Hetty were working with a will.

‘Rhiannon, come and see what we've done so far.' Mrs Jones took her arm. ‘The ballroom looks a treat and I think you'll be pleased with it.'

Lining the walls of the large room were tables covered in pristine damask cloths, groaning under the weight of the feast. Great hams rested cheek by jowl with platters of venison and beef. A salmon with its head intact but the skin removed to reveal its pink flesh made a colourful display, and huge cheeses stood at each end of the tables.

Rhiannon walked around the room, admiring the dishes of pickled beetroot, thick chutney and a variety of sauces. ‘You've done us proud, Mrs Jones,' she said. ‘I'm only sorry that Mrs Paisley can't share it all with us.'

Mrs Jones gave her a hug. ‘Don't you fret. She's here in spirit, I'd stake my life on it.' She dabbed at her eyes with a large handkerchief. ‘Well, I can't stay here grizzling, I've got puddings to steam and custard to make.' She looked critically at Rhiannon. ‘Hadn't you better go and get ready? You look a sight, if you don't mind me saying so.'

Rhiannon looked at her crumpled skirt and touched her hair, which was hanging loose on her shoulders, and smiled. ‘You're right. I must look more like a shanty-town girl than a businesswoman.' She glanced up at the clock on the wall. ‘I'll go up to my room.'

‘Just one more thing,' Cook said. ‘I know tonight's going to be hard for you without Mrs Paisley here, but you have to put that out of your mind and try to smile.'

Rhiannon swallowed the lump in her throat, and made her way slowly from the ballroom and up the gracious stairs.

The lamps were lit in the foyer and candles shimmered in silver holders along the windowsills. Rhiannon looked around her approvingly, as she stood near the door prepared to welcome her guests.

The servants were ready with trays full of glasses of fine wine, and Rhiannon acknowledged that she had Mrs Jayne Buchan to thank for teaching her how to make a social evening a success. Jayne would not be attending the opening: she had caused a scandal by leaving her husband and running away with another man. But her father, Mr Morton-Edwards, was among the first to arrive with his new wife, and Rhiannon smiled in gratitude. ‘Thank you for coming, Mr and Mrs Morton-Edwards.' She resisted the urge to bob a curtsy, reminding herself she was no longer a servant but the proprietor of the Paradise Park Hotel. ‘I hope you both enjoy the evening.'

‘I'm sure we will, and may I say how splendid everything looks? You've worked wonders here, and I'm half sorry I didn't buy the place myself now.' He rested his hand on her shoulder. ‘Well done, Rhiannon, you should be proud of yourself.'

As the couple moved on to mingle with the other guests Rhiannon caught sight of Richard Frost who, strangely, seemed to be avoiding her eyes. She forgot about him then as she welcomed more guests.

When almost everyone had arrived Rhiannon stood near the door feeling alone and vulnerable. None of these people were her friends: her friends were the maids and Mrs Jones, all of whom had worked until they dropped to make the opening the success it was. She knew the people here were merely curious: all they wanted was a good night out with plenty of food and wine. If only Bull would come then perhaps she would feel better.

When she judged that most of the guests had arrived Rhiannon made her way to the dais at one end of the room and held up her hand. ‘I'm not going to make a long speech,' she said, ‘and I'm sure that will be a relief to you all.' Her words raised a few smiles and she began to relax. ‘I just want to welcome you all to the Paradise Park. This evening is just a sample of what guests here can expect.' She paused. ‘Good wine, superb food and warm, welcoming surroundings. Please pass the news on to your friends that the Paradise Park is now officially open for business.'