The Oyster Catchers (9 page)

He shook her away from him and stormed to the door. ‘I’m going out on the water now and by the time I come back I want you to have thought matters over. You will not work and you will not dare to question me on what is my own business, is that clear?’

When he had gone, Eline sat down in a chair and, resting her elbows on the scrubbed table-top, covered her face with her hands.

After a moment, she heard the door creak open and Eline dashed away her tears with her fingers.

‘
Duw, cariad
, I couldn’t help but hear your Joe shouting, going mad he was, what’s wrong, lovely?’

Carys was looking well, her skin was glowing and there
was a light in her eyes, childbearing obviously suited her. Soon, she would no longer be required to pull out the row boats to the water’s edge, the one concession to Carys’s condition that her husband was prepared to make.

‘He’s angry because I wanted to work in the boot and shoe store,’ Eline said flatly, knowing that Carys would doubtless have heard every word she and Joe had spoken.

‘There, there, men are such fools,’ Carys comforted softly. She took a seat opposite Eline and reached out her plump fingers to pat Eline awkwardly on the shoulder. ‘He’ll have forgotten his anger when he comes back, you’ll see.’ Carys smiled. ‘If I know men, Joe will want to take you to bed and prove how good a husband he is, they always think that will solve any problems. Perhaps it will – for them,’ she added drily.

Eline suppressed a shudder; she didn’t want Joe to take her to bed. She had made a terrible mistake marrying him, she’d known that almost from the start, and yet it had taken the appearance of Will Davies to bring the fact home to her.

Perhaps she should leave him? But that was something unheard of, a woman didn’t leave her lawful husband. In any case, Joe wouldn’t let her go, he’d come after her wherever she went; he had waited seventeen years for her, he would never relinquish his hold on her not now, not ever.

‘What am I to do, Carys?’ Eline asked knowing that there was nothing she could do.

‘Stick to your guns,’ Carys said stoutly. ‘Make Joe let you work if it’s only on the oyster beds with us women.’ She smiled. ‘I don’t blame him stopping you working with William Davies, mind, he’s a handsome devil and would be a temptation to any woman.’

She banged her fist suddenly on the table. ‘But insist you do something, keep on at him, deny him his rights,
anything to get what you want, at least your days won’t be so long if you’re working the perches with us.’

She got to her feet and pushed the kettle on to the flames. ‘I’ll make us a nice cup of tea, shall I?’ she said softly. ‘And let me tell you, Eline, you are lucky to have tea in the house when it’s so costly, most of us are not spoiled the way Joe spoils you, so just count your blessings now and again.’

‘I know you’re right,’ Eline said, ‘but I had a good life on the farm, mind, we were not short of anything there.’ She paused, feeling disloyal to Joe. ‘And he did benefit from the sale of the farm, remember, I didn’t come to Joe empty handed.’

‘I suppose not,’ Carys conceded. ‘Still, there’s many a wife gets beaten and ill-treated, your only moan about Joe is that he’s too kind.’

‘I know,’ Eline said again, ‘but I’ll go mad if I stay here alone in the house any longer.’

‘Well, it’s up to you,’ Carys said, ‘no one but you can do anything about it, see?’

When she was alone, Eline stood for a long time, staring out across the roadway to where the beach sloped down to the sea. Joe and the other men would doubtless be out all night making the most of the oyster season which was almost over.

For the short summer months, the oysters would be allowed to breed undisturbed. The spat would grow and metamorphose into tiny oysters, bedding themselves on any empty shell so long as the surface was clean.

By September, the older oysters would be maturing enough to cull and those that were too small would be thrown back to the sea. The fishermen had strict codes of practice; knowing that the oysters were their livelihood, they respected the off-season and the skiffs would be laid up on shore ready for repairs and repainting. Then the men of the village would grow restless and would be in a bad humour, wanting to get back to the sea.

Eline made a sudden decision, she must see William, explain to him what had happened, apologize for not telling him she was married.

She closed her door behind her and made her way along the winding street that traced the edge of the shoreline. The sun was up and the water sparkled like a thousand fallen stars. The air was fresh, clean and salt scented and Eline suddenly realized that being here in Oystermouth was the next best thing to being on Honey’s Farm. If only, she thought ruefully, she was accepted by all the other villagers the way she was by Carys Morgan, life would be easier.

She made her way along the street, occasionally glancing behind her as though afraid she was being followed. Joe would be furious with her if he knew she was disobeying him. And yet he had not told her to keep away from the boot and shoe store, only that she shouldn’t work there.

Her heart was beating so hard as she paused outside the newly painted front of the shop that Eline felt everyone would hear it and stop to look at her. She bit her lip, wondering if she had the courage to actually enter the shop after the scene Joe had made. Lifting her chin, she made her way into the leather-scented interior.

‘Eline!’ William was standing before her, framed in the entrance, the sun highlighting the planes of his face, his dear face.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said simply. She stared at him then in dumb misery and when he reached out his hand and rested it on her shoulder, she wanted to crumple into his arms.

‘I should have told you about … Joe,’ she began but he shook his head.

‘Don’t say anything more, Eline.’ He drew her into the doorway. ‘I’ve learned the circumstances of your marriage. You were just a child left alone in the world,
what else could you do when protection was offered to you?’

The words were kind, forgiving, but a gulf was yawning between them and Eline could feel it as though it were tangible.

‘You’ve been talking about me?’ she asked in a small voice. He nodded.

‘I had to know all about you,’ he said, ‘I couldn’t help myself.’

‘But why?’ The words fell away as a woman appeared from the shadows behind Will.

‘Eline,’ Will said, his tone becoming brisk, ‘this is my new assistant.’ He smiled and drew the woman forward and with a sharp intake of breath, Eline looked into the beautiful, spiteful, dark eyes of Gwyneth Parks.

The sudden, unexpected easterly wind whipped up the waves sending flurries of spray to where the women worked, backs bent over the wooden-slatted trays of oysters.

‘
Duw
, I spects you’re sorry to be working now?’ Carys said, easing her back with plump fingers pressed into her spine.

Eline looked up at her, fighting the urge to cry and shook her head wordlessly. The cold wind, combined with the icy-cold water had frozen her fingers so that she could scarcely handle the oysters she was supposed to be washing free of sand and grime.

Eline glanced at the sack beside her and bit her lip; it was almost empty, the folds hanging limply over the sand. In contrast, Carys’s sack was bulging; satisfyingly full and her tray was almost clear.

Eline gasped as a jagged edge of a shell caught spitefully at her finger drawing blood. She straightened, tempted to give in and admit defeat, but she became aware of the other fishermen’s wives, watching her, judging her.

Why on earth, she wondered, had she nagged Joe into letting her work? It had taken days of constantly arguing with him until at last in exasperation he had agreed to a trial period when she would work the oysters with the other women.

Clouds formed overhead and Eline bent to her task once again. She saw Carys’s fingers nimble and swift in spite of the coldness of the day and envied the diminishing supply of oysters that still lay caked in wet sand on the tray.

One by one the women were finishing their work, tagging the full sacks with the name of their respective skiffs and dragging them up the beach out of the reach of the tide.

‘Come on,’ Carys said, throwing the last of her oysters into the sack and deftly tying up the neck with string, ‘I’ll give you a hand.’

‘Soft, isn’t she?’ The strident tone of Nina Parks stopped the straggling group of women in their tracks and they turned to look in curiosity at Eline, wondering how she would react to Nina’s words.

‘Taking away an honest woman’s work, you are, mind!’ Nina continued in a loud voice. ‘And anyone can see you are not up to it, been ruined like a child you have and now on a whim, you do me and mine out of work, proud of yourself, are you?’

‘Go away, Nina,’ Carys said evenly. ‘Joe is
Eline
’s husband, he can have who he likes working for him, mind.’

‘Shut your mouth, you.’ Nina put her hands on her hips. ‘And mind your own business, I’ve got no quarrel with you.’

‘No,’ Carys said, ‘you know better than to tangle with me, Nina Parks, I knows too much about you. You’d rather pick on a girl young enough to be your daughter, wouldn’t you?’

‘It’s all right,’ Eline interrupted, ‘I can speak for myself, Carys, but thanks anyway. Go on home, you’ve worked hard enough as it is in your condition.’

‘I’ll stay, if it’s all right by you,’ Carys said and Nina Parks walked past her and stared right into Eline’s face.

‘You are taking the bread and butter out of my mouth and you with a man to keep you,’ she said loudly enough for the curious women on the beach to hear.

Eline was suddenly angry. This was the woman who had spitefully told Joe about her job in the boot and shoe shop, no doubt encouraging her daughter to take up the
vacancy. Nina had always hated Eline and now she wanted to humiliate her before her neighbours.

Eline forgot the cold, forgot how her back ached and stood up, facing the older woman.

‘And that’s what you resent, isn’t it?’ Eline said equally loudly. ‘I’ve got a man to keep me and you want that man, don’t you, Mrs Parks?’

‘Who do you think you are accusing me of the lord knows what?’ Nina was blustering and Eline moved a step closer to her.

‘I tell you what I’m accusing you of,’ Eline was past discretion now, anger poured through her like wine, anger and frustration and some other emotion she didn’t quite understand. ‘I’m accusing you of lusting after my husband,’ she said, ‘of trying to take Joe away from me.’ Eline flung back the hair that had fallen over her face. ‘Well, you might get him into your bed now and then when he fancies pleasuring himself with an older woman, but I’ve got his ring on my finger and don’t you forget it.’

Eline stopped speaking, appalled at the cruelty of her words. Nina had turned pale, her eyes glittered with anger and pain, and Eline knew that the woman had been badly hurt.

Nina leaned forward, her head jutting, her skin seemingly stretched tightly across her cheek-bones.

‘Well, I had him first, Miss High and Mighty,’ Nina said angrily, ‘
and
I’ve given him a son. That’s something you’ll never do by the look of you.’

Nina turned and walked through the ragged crowd of silent women, her head high, her shoulders stiff and Eline took a deep breath, trying to regain control.

‘Go on home,’ Eline said, shakily, staring at the village women, ‘the show is over.’

In small, whispering groups, the women turned and left the beach and Eline stared blindly at the oysters piled up on the tray before her. So Joe had fathered Nina
Parks’s son, had he? Anger and outrage poured through her; everyone must have known about it, everyone but Joe’s own wife.

Eline stared down at the mud-caked oysters and she gritted her teeth. She would not be beaten, she would finish her task however long it took her; if Nina Parks could do it, then so could she.

It was almost dark by the time the last of the oysters had been washed. Wearily, Eline tied the top and sank to her knees in the wet sand. She rubbed at her eyes and they ached as though coated in grit.

After a moment, Eline got to her feet. It was time she dragged the sack to a higher part of the beach for the tide was coming in fast. But it was so heavy, weighed down by the plethora of oysters, it had become entrenched in the softness of the sand. Try as she might, Eline couldn’t move it more than a few inches.

The waves were lapping spitefully round her feet now and desperately, Eline looked around for someone to help her. The beach was deserted, the sand stretching vast and empty towards Swansea where the lights of the town were beginning to come on like faint stars in the growing dark.

Eline tugged at the sack and some of the oysters spilled from its now-gaping mouth to disappear beneath the water. She felt the tears of mortification wet on her cheeks, but she still clung to the sack although the tide was sucking her in deeper, washing around her knees and she felt a sense of hopelessness rise within her.

Her hands were icy cold, they gripped the rough sacking so tightly that Eline felt she could never release her hold even if she wanted to. Eline flung back her head and cried out loud in her despair, ‘Help me! Someone, help me!’

She hauled at the sack, perhaps the incoming sea would help lighten the load so that Eline could make it to higher ground. She paused, head sinking low as she
stared in anger at the washing waves that threatened her. She was useless, Joe would be better off without her. Perhaps she should just let the sea take her.

Eline was so numb that she was unaware of a tall figure running along the sand towards her, urgently calling her name. She was ready to sink beneath the waves, she would not relinquish the oysters she’d slaved over for hours, they would not be given back to the sea.

Strong hands were dragging her backwards then and even though the water sucked at her, dragging her down, she was lifted upwards out of the coldness.

Numbly she saw that it was Will Davies holding her and wearily, she rested her head against his shoulder. It was so good to be in his arms, so right.

‘The oysters,’ she said and her voice was cracking with weariness.