Copper Kingdom (15 page)

‘It simply occurred to me that you might need a little support, seeing as this is your first time alone at the ticketings,' he said.

‘You are mistaken.' Sterling spoke a little more smoothly. ‘While my father was ill it naturally fell upon me to arrange the purchase of the ore, didn't you realise that?' If his tone implied criticism, Sterling thought, then so be it.

‘I suppose I didn't think,' James conceded and Sterling felt almost sorry for him.

‘As a partner, you are fully entitled to attend,' Sterling said. ‘But you mustn't feel duty bound. I have Ben to fall back on and I think even you must bow to his judgment.'

‘In that case, I shall leave everything to you.' James stepped back a pace. ‘I'm sorry you are rejecting my support, Sterling, for I believe there is more between our two families than mere business ties, but I will not presume to push myself where I'm clearly not wanted.'

As James left the room, Sterling felt only relief. He resented the implication that he could not be astute at buying simply because of his youth. Where was James Cardigan, or Dean Sutton come to that, all the long months of Father's illness when a little help would have been appreciated?

Ben appeared at Sterling's side with a list in his hand. ‘Look, sir, these are the asking prices, not much to choose between ores from Chile and those from South Africa.' He pursed his lips thoughtfully. ‘I'd plump for the Chile load if I were you.'

Sterling nodded. ‘I agree. Come on Ben, let's take our place. There are seats near the back – that way we can see who's buying what.'

The bidding was keen and Sterling found himself in the position of having to pay twenty guineas a ton for the crude ore.

‘At this rate we'll need to sell twice as many brewing vessels just to break even,' he said in a whisper to Ben. The old man nodded his head slowly.

‘I'm beginning to think you're right about the changes, sir,' he replied. ‘We'll need to look at byproducts of the copper such as zinc and spelter, no doubt about it.'

Sterling kept his own council. It was steel he was more interested in, the hard sheet metal that was far stronger than copper and for which there seemed to be an ever growing demand. Well he had taken a step in the right direction with the introduction of new furnaces, he mused, but that was not enough, he would need to expand in a big way, even if it meant mortgaging Plas Rhianfa to the hilt. It was nothing but a great white elephant anyway, a symbol of the once great Richardson empire. His new house was much more practical with its modest four bedrooms and a manageable acreage of land. If matters came to the worst, Mother and Rickie could always move in with him, though the prospect of such an eventuality was enough incentive to spur anyone on to success, he told himself ruefully.

By the time the auction was over, he felt cloistered and in need of liquid refreshment.

‘Take the rest of the day off, Ben,' he said evenly. ‘The works can do without us both for an afternoon.'

Ben looked disapprovingly at him, taking out his handkerchief as he always did when perplexed and dabbing at his waxed moustache with it.

‘If it's all the same to you, sir, I'll take the tram back up to Green Hill.' There was the merest trace of a smile in his pale eyes behind the glasses. ‘A much more enjoyable means of transport than the car if you don't mind me saying so.'

‘All right, Ben, please yourself.' Sterling left the crowded room which was still filled with the sound of many voices arguing loudly over the day's prices, and made his way through the heavily curtained and carpeted foyer with its plethora of potted plants. As he hurried up the stairs towards his room, the long corridor was empty and silent after the clamour below. He breathed a sigh of relief, taking his key out of his pocket, but to his surprise the door to his room stood open.

‘Bea.' Sterling could not keep the surprise from his voice. ‘What on earth are you doing here?' He moved into the room and closed the door, staring at her as though he'd never seen her before. She was seated in a chair near the window and had been presumably passing the time by watching the people on the pavement far below.

‘I've brought you some patterns.' She smiled shyly. ‘Look, isn't this material simply lovely? Just what you'll need for the curtains in the drawing room.'

‘Bea, do you know that your father is downstairs and half the town with him?' He shook his head in exasperation. ‘You were foolish to come here alone.'

Bea smiled up at him. ‘Don't be angry, I didn't come alone, Bertha is with me. But even a maid likes a little time off now and again, she's having tea with her sister who lives in one of the cottages on the dock, she's not a stone's throw away. In any event, who will know except us? And don't worry about Daddy, he left some time ago. I saw him striding along the street at a great pace.' She bent down and brought a bottle out of her bag.

‘This is for you.' She held it out to him smilingly, engagingly. ‘It's to celebrate your inheritance. I don't expect anyone else has thought of making a toast to your future success. I wish I'd thought of it last week when I came to measure the windows at your house but in any case the builders were much in evidence making a dreadful fuss and noise.' She looked round her. ‘This is much better.'

‘All right, Bea,' Sterling sighed, ‘it's a nice thought, but just one glassful and then you must be going. I don't want anyone gossiping about you.'

Bea's eyes were shining as she looked up at him. ‘It's very kind of you to worry about my reputation Sterling, but I'm a woman now, or haven't you noticed?'

She was wearing a soft silk blouse through which the swell of her breasts could clearly be seen. Sterling looked away sharply.

‘You certainly seem to have made yourself at home,' he said wryly, looking at her discarded coat and the large hat with numerous velvet bows decorating the crown. ‘I'll ring for some glasses and then we'll have that drink before I take you home.'

‘No need for glasses, I've brought my own.' Bea delved into her bag once more and busily unwrapped the glittering crystal goblets.

‘Here's to you and me, Sterling, may we both prosper.'

The wine was heady and potent and Bea seemed determined to keep refilling his glass. Sterling sat on the bed; he had eaten very little that morning and he began to feel lightheaded. Bea settled herself beside him, pouring yet more wine, her eyes dark and lustrous.

‘Hold on,' he protested, ‘or you'll have me falling asleep and then you'll have to go home alone and serve you right.' He smiled, softening his words.

‘Good isn't it?' Bea held her glass aloft, her cheeks flushed and her hair escaping from the confining pins. She looked desirable and slightly drunk and he found himself leaning forward to kiss her cheek. But she turned her face and his lips were upon hers and then he was holding her close, enjoying the resilience of her body against his own.

She seemed to be drawing him downwards upon the bed, her eyes wide, offering an invitation he could not resist. As he kissed her neck his hands were busy undoing the buttons of her blouse. Her skin was warm to the touch soft and fragrant, swamping his senses.

‘Bea,' his voice was thick and as if she knew he was about to say something she didn't wish to hear, she raised herself up and pressed her moist mouth against his. Her arms were clinging around his neck, her body arched and her eyes were closed. It was clear she wanted him and deftly he opened the hooks that held her skirts in place. Eagerly now, he undressed her and stood back staring down at her nakedness.

She was so beautiful that it took his breath away. Her breasts were full and firm, her waist small. Her hips rose invitingly and Sterling moved down upon her, though even with his senses reeling he was careful not to bruise her sweet white flesh. She moaned a little, whether in pleasure or pain he could not tell.

He held her close, thrusting with more vigour now while she clung to him, head flung back, mouth open and small gasps escaping her full lips. She was a woman ripe for love, he thought ruefully, and if he had not harvested her then another man would soon have done so.

They moved together in a sweet age-old rhythm, she was past pain now, he realised, and was fully aroused, a mature woman needing release from her frustrations just as he did. Gently he turned on his back, holding her above him and her hair cascaded over her face so that she looked like a wanton.

At last she cried out in ecstasy, her face contorted by passion. She slumped sweetly against him, her hands cupping his face, her eyes staring down into his.

‘I love you for that, Sterling,' she said, ‘for giving me the greatest gift I could have asked of you.'

Carefully he moved away from her, stunned that he'd taken her as though she were some little hoyden from the whorehouse on the Strand.

‘Bea,' he began but then she was behind him, her arms around his waist, her face pressed against his back.

‘Hush, please don't say anything and don't look round for I'm going to get dressed now.'

By the time Bertha came knocking at the door of the hotel room Bea was seated demurely in a chair near the window. Her hair was the perfection of tidiness but in her eyes there was a light that no one, least of all the perceptive Bertha, could miss.

Bea kissed Sterling's cheek with mock innocence. ‘I may be allowed that much, mightn't I?' she asked archly. ‘After all, we are almost like brother and sister. Please don't come downstairs, Bertha and I will take the tram home.'

When he was alone, Sterling sat staring at the empty wine bottle and wondered why the events of the last hour had left him feeling vaguely dissatisfied. He was almost inclined to call off the arrangement they had made to meet again and yet he needed a woman as did any fullblooded man and Bea was beautiful as well as passionate.

He moved to the window and stared out into the waning afternoon sun lying in great pools on the yard below. It was about time he was moving for there was still a great deal of work for him to do before nightfall.

March came into Sweyn's Eye with scarcely any lessening of the bitter cold weather and Mali shivered as she looked up at the greyness of the early morning sky which seemed to hang low over the Canal Street Laundry. At her side, Katie was sleepy and uncommunicative, holding her shawl around her head and shoulders with hands that were blue with the cold.

‘How's William?' Mali asked and the words came out on small puffs of freezing air. Katie showed some animation for the first time since they'd left Copperman's Row.

‘He's hale and hearty, so he is, fine buck of a man as I'm always tellin' you.'

Mali thrust her hands deep into her pockets and stared down at her black shiny boots, wondering if she would ever have a young buck come courting her. Katie coughed a little.

‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph but it's cold, I'll be that glad when the spring weather comes in. And how's your dad doin' at the copper? Will tells me they all have ter work so much harder now that young Mr Richardson is the boss, a real slave driver he is, so it seems.'

‘I'm sure that's not true,' Mali said quickly and at her side Katie gave a sniff that sounded more than a little derisory.

‘I was forgettin' he's your idol Mali Llewelyn, and him so far above you as God himself.'

‘Hush,' Mali said quickly; she did not like to hear Katie uttering blasphemy, somehow it unsettled her. In any event Sterling Richardson did not think himself far above her, he had given her his friendship, talked to her as though she was his equal, and she would not listen to a word against him.

‘Dad's still meeting that woman,' she said, deliberately changing the subject. ‘I keep smelling her scent on his clothes. There's dull men can be some times.'

‘Seen him with her the other night so I did,' Katie replied. ‘She clings to his arm as if she's in danger of falling down drunk in the roadway and that tatty fur thing around her neck makes me go cold all over so it does. Taken off some poor creature who never did any harm to no one and those dead eyes looking up at ye so forlorn.'

Mali laughed. ‘Those are not real eyes, Katie, don't be silly. They're only glass.'

‘I don't care a fig leaf about that, all I know is that once that was a fox and now it's dead and hung round her neck. No wonder she ‘as to wear scent.'

They quickened their pace as the gates of the Canal Street Laundry came into sight.

‘Look sharp, Mali.' Aggie stood alongside the entrance, her cap squashed firmly onto her thinning grey hair. ‘Get boilers lit and no letting them go out today, is it?'

It irked Mali that she had never been allowed to forget her one mistake. Without replying to the old woman, she turned to Katie. ‘I'll see you at grub time.'

‘Sure and so you will.' Katie ran lightly up the narrow staircase and Mali moved towards the doors of the boiler house only to find Big Mary barring her way.

‘Not in there
merchi
, not this morning. Doris dropped her babba some weeks back and is fit as a flea again and now she wants her old job back, which is only right and proper, mind.'

Mali looked at her in consternation. ‘But what about me?' she asked, fearful of being dismissed.

Big Mary smiled. ‘The way I look at it is this, you've proved you've got guts and that you're not afeared of hard work. You've got a bit up here, too.' She tapped her head. ‘I'm bringing you up to the packing room – which is a privilege mind, so take care you earn it.'

Mali felt relief and a mingling of pride and triumph. She had done her job as stoker on the fires and done it so well that she was to be rewarded.