The Oyster Catchers (21 page)

Mrs Morris stared down at her patient and frowned. She moved to the door and through her mist of pain, Nina saw Joe standing outside, his face strained, harsh lines running from nose to mouth. His eyes met Nina’s and, for a moment, he smiled.

‘Hang on there,
cariad
,’ he said hoarsely, ‘everything is going to be all right.’ He turned away as Mrs Morris pushed the door shut and Nina felt suddenly bereft. She groaned low in her throat as the pain hurled her into a pit from which she felt she would never rise again.

‘The doctor is on his way,’ Mrs Morris sounded falsely cheerful. ‘He’ll give you something to ease the pain.’

She laid a sympathetic hand on Nina’s forehead and them, lifting the sheets from Nina’s tortured body, put into place a sheet of brown paper that crackled with a life of its own.

Nina was dimly aware of the doctor coming in, looking
down at her, talking, endlessly talking. Why didn’t he do something?

A spoon was pushed between her gritted teeth and Nina gulped at the bitter medicine, hoping it would bring her release from the agony that was wearing her down. She was a strong woman, God only knew how she’d managed alone all these years, bringing up her three girls and her son, but this awful torture, she could not bear it.

‘The mother or the child?’ the doctor was asking a question of someone unseen, the answer was unintelligible and then Nina felt herself falling into the welcome blackness of an abyss.

‘Two days!’ Eline said softly as she stared into the fire. ‘Two days I’ve been here waiting for what the good Lord only knows. I must be out of my mind.’

She had scrubbed and cleaned the small house from top to bottom, almost as though she could erase any presence of Nina Parks from her home. But Eline knew it wasn’t any longer her home and now never would be regardless of what she did.

She had seen a very little of Carys in those two days, although she had popped in for a few minutes to relate that the crew had all been safely brought ashore from the stricken ship at Port Eynon. She had been uneasy and had not stayed long and Eline had the definite feeling that Carys had been instructed by her husband not to get involved in her neighbour’s affairs.

At least Eline had learned that there had been no fatalities during the sea rescue though one or two men had been injured. No names had been mentioned and Eline had been afraid to leave Oystermouth until she knew if Joe was safe.

Eline had seen little of Will; it was as though both of them through a tacit, unspoken agreement had kept out of each other’s way.

Eline heard the loud ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece and the coals shifting in the grate and on impulse, she rose to her feet. She had remained here long enough, there had been no further news from Port Eynon, no one had come to the cottage to volunteer any information and it was almost as though she had ceased to exist.

She was busy taking off the sheets from the spare bed where she had slept the previous night when she heard the door open and the sound of voices downstairs.

Reluctantly, Eline went down to the kitchen in time to see Joe lower Nina into a chair. Beside her was her son and all three turned to look at Eline as she entered the room, her arms full of sheets.

Eline could not fail to see the way Joe’s face lit up for a moment before falling once again into lines of worry as he stared down at Nina.

It was Tom who spoke. ‘Have you come to claim what is yours, Eline?’ he said and there was something resembling sympathy in his eyes.

She shook her head. ‘No, but I wanted to be sure everything was all right …’ Her voice trailed away; it was clear that nothing was right. Nina’s face was almost yellow, her eyes shadowed by black circles, her skin hanging like discarded linen on the big bones of her face.

‘I’ve lost my baby,’ Nina said almost distantly and it was as though she didn’t recognize Eline. ‘It was coming too early, see, and breach birth and I was too old, too old to be carrying.’

‘It’s all right, Mam,’ Tom put his hand on her shoulder, ‘you must get strong now, we’ll build you up, you’ll see.’

For a moment, there was silence in the kitchen and Eline felt it was up to her to take the initiative.

‘I’ll just put these sheets in the bath out the back and then I’ll take my leave.’ She spoke as though she was a visitor, a cleaning woman perhaps, come to help out at
times of crisis. And that is just how she felt, removed from it all, from Joe’s pain and Nina’s weakness, and although she was sorry, she also was relieved. It felt as though somehow she had been freed from a heavy burden.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said softly, ‘I hope you’ll be well again soon, Mrs Parks.’ The title sounded foolish in the circumstances and yet Eline could not address the older woman as Nina, she never had and this didn’t seem a propitious moment for familiarity. She looked first at Joe who was staring down at his boots and then at Tom.

‘If there’s anything I can do,’ she said, ‘just ask.’

As she moved to the door, Tom followed her and stood outside on the step, looking down at her. ‘Go to our Gwyneth, tell her Mam needs her.’ He was almost begging. ‘Mam’s nearly out of her mind with the pain of it all.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Eline said again though the word was futile, inadequate. ‘I’ll tell Gwyneth at once.’

Eline hurried along the street and paused for a moment outside Will’s shop. Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door and went inside and, as her eyes became accustomed to the gloom, she saw Will standing near the counter, staring at her with such a look of happiness that she felt the colour rise to her cheeks.

‘I must see Gwyneth,’ she explained quickly in case he misunderstood her presence in his shop. ‘Her mam is sick, she needs her to come at once.’

‘What is it?’ Gwyneth came out of the shadow of the shelves. ‘What’s this about my mam?’ She sounded suspicious almost as though she thought Eline was playing some trick on her. ‘I thought she was down at Port Eynon.’

‘She’s back,’ Eline said softly, ‘Joe and Tom are with her, she’s very ill, she needs you.’

Gwyneth looked from Eline to Will uncertainly as though she couldn’t make up her mind what to do.

‘She’s lost the baby,’ Eline said reluctantly, knowing that nothing else would convince Gwyneth that she was needed.

‘Oh, my God!’ Gwyneth said quietly, ‘poor Mam.’ She pulled on her shawl and moved quickly to the door.

‘I’m sorry, Mr Davies, I’ll have to go,’ she said breathlessly.

‘That’s all right,’ Will said, ‘I’ll come with you, see if there’s anything I can do to help.’ He turned to look at Eline, holding the door open as though bidding her goodbye. ‘I’m sorry, I have to go,’ he said quietly and she wondered if she had imagined the happiness in his eyes.

Eline looked up and, seeing Will’s polite expression, suddenly felt very tired. ‘That’s all right,’ she said, ‘I’m going now, my home is not in Oystermouth, perhaps it never was.’

As she walked away from the shop and towards the train terminus, Eline felt she never wanted to set foot in Oystermouth ever again.

Fon sat in the warmth of the garden that backed on to the whitewashed walls of Honey’s Farm. Above her head arched a trellis of roses and the heavy scents drifted towards her as she cradled the sleeping child on her knee. Patrick lay in the crook of her slim arms and there was a contented smile on the little boy’s face as his chubby fingers curled around Fon’s hand.

Fon smiled down at him; in the few weeks she had been here on Honey’s Farm, she had grown to love Patrick dearly. She spent most of her time with him except for the evenings when he was in bed and then she sat with Katherine and stitched the holes in Patrick’s linen.

Katherine had come to depend on Fon’s company until about nine o’clock, when she would settle down to sleep, issuing firm instruction that Fon was to help Jamie with the books for he could not be relied upon to balance the figures correctly or order fresh supplies.

A sudden heaviness came over Fon, like a shadow passing over the sunlit garden, and she shivered. She had come to love the time she spent with Jamie, that hour before sleep took her, the hour when the cattle had settled for the night and the farm was silent. Then they sat together in the lamp-lit kitchen, working over the books. On occasions, she felt that she and Jamie were meant to be together, to be close, but that was an area of her feelings that she must not, would not, explore.

Sometimes she almost thought that Katherine was pushing them together, encouraging some sort of
relationship between then, but that feeling must surely be attributed to Fon’s own fevered imagination.

She lifted up Patrick’s small body, heavy now in sleep, knowing she must put him in his bed where he would be more comfortable. She took her time over the task, enjoying the sound of soft, contented breathing and the feel of smooth baby skin against her cheek. When she’d settled him down, covering him with only the lightest of sheets, Fon made her way to Katherine’s bedroom.

‘Come in, there’s a good girl, I want to talk to you.’ Katherine looked paler than ever, even her hands on the bedclothes were as white as if they had never seen sunshine. Fon looked down at her own hands, they were golden with a sprinkling of freckles and she knew her face, too, would be freckled, something that she had always hated.

‘Would you like an iced drink?’ Fon asked quietly, still a little in awe of the woman in bed. Despite the fact that she was pale and suffering ill-health, Katherine had an indomitable spirit, a strength of will that Fon sometimes found intimidating.

‘Not now,’ Katherine said. ‘Come in and close the door, Fon, there’s a good girl. This is woman’s talk and I don’t want Jamie to hear.’

Puzzled, Fon moved towards the bed and sat on the edge of the armchair, hands clasped in her lap. ‘What is it, Katherine, are you feeling bad?’

Katherine sighed. ‘No worse than usual but I have to confide in you, Fon, and I think that now the time is right.’

Fon was suddenly cold in spite of the sun slanting over the gardens outside and the soft breeze bringing the scent of the roses into the room.

Katherine smiled. ‘Don’t look so frightened, love, it’s all right, it really is, I’ve had a long time to prepare for what I have to face.’

She sat up a little straighter and suddenly Fon noticed
how hollow Katherine’s cheeks had become in the last few weeks.

‘You do want to stay on here, don’t you?’ she asked intently. ‘I can see you love my son and Patrick loves you, but are you sure there’s no follower who will come and sweep you off your feet?’

‘No,’ Fon said in bewilderment, ‘there’s no one. And yes, I do want to stay on here, I couldn’t think of any other life, not now.’

Katherine sighed as though content. ‘I have only a very short time left.’ Katherine spoke so matter of factly that Fon wasn’t quite sure she understood her correctly.

‘What do you mean?’ Fon knew she must sound foolish but a feeling of dread was beginning to develop within her.

‘Look, Fon, don’t waste time feeling sorry for me, I’m leaving this life, but I have no regrets.’ She rushed on before Fon could think of anything to say.

‘My only concerns were my son and my husband and this is why I tried a great many girls before I took you on. You will be a wonderful mother to my little Patrick.’ Katherine’s voice faltered but only for an instant. ‘And as for Jamie, so long as you help him with the books and the stocks he will be all right, too.’ She smiled softly. ‘He’s a good man is Jamie, just needs a little leading, that’s all.’

Fon found her voice at last. ‘Katherine, how do you know? I mean the doctors, surely they can …?’

‘There’s nothing to be done,’ Katherine said positively, ‘it’s a condition of the blood, incurable.’

She smiled. ‘Will you promise me, Fon, that you will stay here for as long as you are needed?’

‘Yes, of course I will.’ Fon felt tears mist her eyes at the courage of the woman in bed who could face death and think only of her husband and child.

Katherine handed her an envelope sealed shut. ‘I want you to open it … afterwards, is that clear?’

Fon nodded. ‘How long?’ she asked tentatively and Katherine shook her head.

‘I don’t know.’ There was real regret in her voice. ‘It’s too hard to predict but I hope I live to see Christmas once more.’

Fon rose to her feet and Katherine looked up at her. ‘Now how about that iced drink?’ she said in that matter-of-fact way of hers and Fon knew the conversation would not be referred to again.

‘I’ll fetch it straight away,’ she said taking her cue from Katherine, ‘and then shall I get on with sewing up Jamie’s working trousers? He’s torn the hem again.’

‘Good idea,’ Katherine said and sighing wearily, she fell back against her pillows. ‘Bring the sewing in here,’ she said, ‘I could do with some company.’

Fon lay awake that night staring up at the moon-splashed ceiling. In the corner near the open window a spider’s web shimmered like gossimer, as light and insubstantial as Katherine’s hold on life, Fon thought painfully. She wanted to cry for the bravery of the woman she had known for only a few weeks, but the tears seemed to have formed a hard lump in her throat and it was a long time before she slept.

She woke late the next morning and washed in the cold water in the basin in her room and dressed hurriedly before tiptoeing into Patrick’s room. ‘Bless us!’ Fon said in relief, ‘he’s still asleep.’

She hurried downstairs to the kitchen knowing that Jamie would want his breakfast but, to her surprise, Jamie was already up and was making a pot of tea. At the table sat a young man, his unruly hair falling over his forehead and with a dart of apprehension, Fon looked into the face of her brother.

‘Tom!’ Fon kissed her brother’s cheek. ‘Is anything wrong at home?’ She poured a cup of tea for herself and held it between her fingers, feeling suddenly cold and strangely insecure. She hoped he hadn’t come
with bad news, she didn’t think she could take any more.

‘It’s Mam,’ Tom said, ‘she’s lost the baby. I think she’s going out of her mind with it all. I came to ask you to come home and look after her.’

Fon sank into a chair and sipped her tea, giving herself time to think. ‘Is Mam in any danger?’ she asked anxiously.