The Oyster Catchers (3 page)

‘I don’t know what I would have done without you, Hari,’ William said softly. ‘If you hadn’t taken me from that hovel that was my home I would probably be begging on the streets of Swansea today.’

‘I doubt it,’ Hari said drily and changed the subject. ‘From the way you speak about this customer’ – there was a teasing note in her voice now – ‘a certain light in your eyes, I’d say this “customer” was a very beautiful young woman.’

‘Right as always,’ William sighed. ‘I never could keep any secrets from you, could I?’

Hari reached out and took his hand. ‘Well, I should think not! Closer than brother and sister we’ve been to each other, Will.’

He gripped her hand. ‘I know I don’t often say it, but I’ve never ceased to be grateful for all you’ve done for me.’ He spoke softly.

She leaned over and kissed his cheek. ‘You have earned your success by your hard work and your talent and don’t you forget it,’ Hari said firmly. ‘I’m very proud of you, Will, and I know you’ll make a success of the shop at Oystermouth.’

William leaned back in his chair still holding Hari’s hand. ‘What shall I call the shop?’ he asked thoughtfully. ‘Shall I call Grenfell’s after you, Hari?’

She shook her head firmly. ‘No, the shop is yours as well as mine, we are partners, Will.’ She smiled. ‘What about
THE WILLIAM DAVIES BOOT AND SHOE STORE
?’

Will smiled. ‘That sounds very good,’ he said, excitement gripping him. ‘And one day, if I meet the right woman, perhaps I can change the name to
DAVIES AND SONS.’

Hari’s eyebrows rose. ‘I see, talking about offspring already then? This young woman you’ve met must be somebody very special.’

William sighed. ‘I really think she could be. I don’t know anything about her, I don’t even know her name and yet there was a closenesss between us, I can’t explain it, I felt I wanted to take her in my arms and hold her. It was as though she belonged to me.’ He laughed self-consciously. ‘Must be losing my mind, what do you think?’

‘I think you were a bit slow, Will, to tell you the truth. Why didn’t you find out more about this mysterious lady?’ Hari said gently and William knew she was concerned for him. ‘I mean you are so fluent with young
ladies usually, I can’t understand you not even learning her name.’

‘I know,’ Will confessed. ‘I don’t understand myself, but I didn’t want to frighten her off by being too forward. She’ll come to see me again, I know she will.’

Hari pushed away her plate. ‘Those oysters were delicious, I must put in my order with Mr Lewis and have some delivered to Summer Lodge today.’

Will knew that she was deliberately changing the subject. Hari was not one to pry, her great gift was in showing her interest without intruding.

She picked up her bag. ‘I’d better get back home, I’m not working today and I promised to take David to the park if the weather holds fine.’

David was Hari’s young son, a handsome boy, the image of his father with the same dark hair and strong features. No one could mistake David for anyone else’s child.

‘And I’d better get back to Oystermouth,’ he said, ‘I’ve some hiring to do.’

Eline bit her lip, the incoming tide was bringing with it fresh storms. The rain clouds were heavy in the sky and the whipping of spray against the rocks was an ominous sight to the women waiting on the beach for their menfolk to come home.

‘
Duw
, I hope Skipper George is bringing the boats in early’ – Carys Morgan stood beside Eline, her plump arms folded over the fringes of her shawl – ‘otherwise they’ll all be caught in the gale that’s coming. See the lowering clouds over the head? Always means a storm when the clouds gather above the rocks like that.’

Eline was used to looking for signs of weather changes, a storm could be just as bad on a farm as it was at sea. Lives could be wrecked, whole harvests lost but then she could not expect Carys to know that.

‘They’re coming in!’ The call came from one of the
women waiting higher up the beach. ‘I can see the sails just coming around the head now.’

Eline’s heart missed a beat, the Mixon Sands just beyond the head were notorious for the strong currents that had brought many a sailor to grief.

Carys seemed to read her mind. ‘Don’t worry,
merchi
, the men know these seas like the back of their hands, mind; you won’t catch the men of Oystermouth making any silly mistakes.’

But Carys was anxious in spite of her words; there was a feeling of tension about the way she tightened her arms over her plump breasts and her knuckles gleamed white as she clenched her hands into fists.

‘Of course they’ll be all right,’ Eline agreed uncertainly. ‘It doesn’t do to worry.’ She repeated Carys’s words but there was a feeling of emptiness within her as she saw the pitifully frail boats battling against the rising tide.

The boats seemed to be huddled together as if for support but, as the first ones rounded the head, the women sent up a cheer.

‘There we are,’ Carys said triumphantly, ‘once in the shelter of the bay the waters are calmer, the men will be safe now, please God.’

The
Emmeline
was one of the first boats to come in to anchor near the shore and Eline pushed the row boat quickly into the waves, preparing to greet her husband.

Inexperienced as she was, it was hard negotiating the stormy seas. She attempted to row but it seemed she was forced back on to the sand, her puny efforts to ride the waves thwarted at every dip of her oars.

Nina Parks appeared as though from nowhere and practically ordered Eline to leave the boat. Defeated, Eline complied and watched Nina steadily draw away from her towards the skiffs.

From where she stood, the spray cold in her face, Eline could see that Joe was not attempting to transfer the
catch to the small boat. He climbed from the
Emmeline
and took the oars and with strong strokes pulled for the shore.

‘Good trip?’ Eline shouted above the wind, ignoring Nina.

‘Good enough.’ Joe leaped on to the beach and pulled on the line, drawing the boat on to the sand. The women came forward to help.

‘Catch worth going out for Joe,
bach
?’ Carys called to him and Joe glanced over his shoulder as he secured the boat.

‘Aye, fair enough day’s work, mind, but I’m glad to be home. There’ll be the very devil of a storm tonight if I’m any judge.’

Even as he spoke it began to rain, huge torrents that washed down from the skies in a relentless sheet. The men and women laboured together to secure the small boats and when finally Eline led the way into the warmth of her kitchen, she was soaked to the skin.

‘Get those wet things off,’ Joe said, brushing the rain from her eyes with the pads of his thumbs. ‘You look like a little girl there with your hair hanging loose down your back.’

Eline smiled. ‘I don’t care what I look like, not going to a grand ball or anything, am I?’ She pushed the pot of stew on to the edge of the fire and hung her shawl over the peg on the door where it dripped rain that formed a shiny pool on the grey flagstones of the floor.

‘I’m going to wash myself down at the pump in the yard,’ Joe said. ‘You see to yourself, love.’

Eline hurried upstairs and quickly undressed: her clothes dropped into a heap on the wooden boards which she kicked aside distastefully. There would be some hard work to do tomorrow, washing the stubborn sand from her petticoats.

As she reached out for a towel, Joe entered the bedroom. He was stripped to the waist, a tall, muscular
man, a handsome man. He stood looking at her, his dark hair plastered against his forehead.

‘
Duw
, there’s lovely you are, Eline.’ He came to her and took her in his arms, rubbing his hands against her spine. ‘So pretty and frail, sometimes I can’t believe my luck that you are really my wife.’

He kissed her neck. ‘I waited so long for you, my love, so very long.’ He kissed her mouth and held her close to him.

Eline pushed him away. ‘Get dressed, Joe, or you’ll be catching your death of cold,’ she said, her heart thumping. She did not want Joe to make love to her, not now when she’d met the most wonderful man in all the world. It would be a betrayal. And yet wasn’t that nonsense? Didn’t she belong to Joe in every way? What right had she to refuse her husband?

His breathing became more ragged. Still holding her with one hand, he drew off his trews, dropping them alongside her clothes on the floor.

‘My lovely, lovely girl.’ He whispered the words in her ear as if they might be overheard. ‘I want you so much, I’ll always want you, my sweet Emmeline.’

He drew her down on to the bed and covered her with his body. ‘Say you love me, just a little.’ He rose above her, staring down at her as though he could read into her very soul.

‘You are my husband, Joe,’ Eline said desperately, ‘of course I love you.’ And it was true, she did love Joe, in a way. But it was not the way a woman loves her man, there was no passion in her love for him, no excitement. And perhaps her love was really gratitude for all he had done for her.

He touched her breasts with the tips of his fingers. ‘So lovely,’ he breathed. Eline closed her eyes as his mouth came down hot on her throat. Joe was crushing her to him, forcing a response from her in spite of herself. He was a strong, virile man and his appetites were great
and, she told herself sternly, if she didn’t please him then there were other women in the village who would be only too happy to take her place.

Reluctantly, her arms closed around his broad shoulders. She gasped as he thrust against her, he was gripping her breasts so hard that his fingers, she knew, would bruise her pale skin. But he was lost now on a rising tide of passion, his eyes were closed, his breathing laboured. ‘Emmeline!’ he gasped and then it was over.

He rolled away and rested on his back, his broad chest rising and falling until gradually, his breathing became normal.

‘I love you, Eline.’ He reverted to the diminutive form of her name now that his passion was over. ‘You are mine now and for always and I’d kill any man who tried to take you away from me.’ He spoke with matter-of-fact calm and suddenly Eline felt a chill.

‘No one is going to take me away from you,’ she said quickly. She turned her face to the wall and there were tears in her eyes.

Eline scrubbed at the grey flags of the floor with an almost angry vigour; Joe walked sand and mud into the small kitchen with little thought for the work he was giving her.

She straightened, easing her back, aware that her knees were hurting from the cold hardness of the flags. And Eline recognized the need to punish herself for harbouring unworthy thoughts about the young man who had come to Oystermouth so recently.

William Davies had been on her mind constantly since the moment she had first met him; she even dreamed about him at night, erotic, passionate dreams that brought a flush to her cheeks when she remembered them in the morning.

She had caught sight of him from a distance several times. It was unavoidable that she should see him, Oystermouth being such a small village, but she had deliberately kept away from the boot and shoe shop that was now open for business and from all accounts doing very well. She knew that her feelings for the handsome young gentleman were misplaced, dangerous even. She belonged to Joe, she continually reminded herself, he was the man who had loved her ever since she was a child.

Eline rose to her feet. The floor was glistening with wetness, the flags given a transient sheen that would disappear as the floor dried to a dull, lifeless grey.

‘
Bore da
.’ The voice seemed to come out of the blue, startling her. ‘Good heavens, Eline, you’re looking like a thunder cloud, anything the matter?’

Eline turned, recognizing the squat shape of Carys Morgan outlined in the doorway where she stood squarely, blocking out the light.

‘Come in, Carys,’ Eline said quickly. ‘Nothing’s the matter, I just hate the way I have to scrub this floor to keep it clean after Joe’s boots been on it.’

Carys sighed. ‘All fishermen’s wives have that trouble,
cariad
, you’re not alone, mind.’ Carys tiptoed over the wet floor to sprawl into the rocking-chair that creaked a protest under her weight.

‘I know,’ Eline said, suppressing her irritation as she carried the bucket to the door and tipped it into the street, watching the water wash down the pavement and into the cobbled roadway.

‘Look,’ Carys’s voice carried to where Eline was staring dreamily along the roadway in the direction of William Davies’s Boot and Shoe Store. ‘I’m going to the market in Swansea this morning, what about coming with me?’

Eline turned eagerly. ‘Oh, could I?’ she said quickly, anything to get away from the boredom of the endless round of housework.

‘Would I be asking if I didn’t mean it?’ Carys said reasonably. ‘I want to do a bit of shopping in the market and if you could sell the oysters for me for an hour or so I’d be able to get it all done.’

Eline felt a qualm of dismay. ‘But I don’t know anything about selling oysters,’ she said quickly.

‘What’s to know?’ Carys asked, her dark eyebrows raised. ‘You sits there with the sacks of shellfish and folk come up to you and buy some, nothing to it.’

Carys eyed Eline’s slight figure. ‘You won’t be much use unloading the oysters from the cart, it’s true, but then I’m used to doing that on my own anyway.’ Carys put her head on one side. ‘Don’t mind a good walk, do you? Swansea’s about five miles away, mind.’

‘I’m used to walking,’ Eline said defensively. ‘When I
lived on the farm I walked more than five miles every day.’

‘That’s settled then. Get your shawl and don’t wear anything tidy, mind, your clothes will smell of oysters by the end of the day.’

Eline wrapped a fresh, clean, white apron around her waist and took her old knitted shawl from the back of the door. She stood for a moment looking round her uncertainly.

‘If the skiffs come back early, Joe will wonder where I am,’ she said biting her lip. Carys tugged her towards the doorway.

‘Don’t worry about Joe,’ she said reassuringly, ‘I told my Sam before they sailed that I was going to ask you to come to Swansea with me, him and Joe will have chewed over the fat by now, they know everything that we women get up to, don’t you worry.’