Copper Kingdom (20 page)

‘Watch the silly sheeps if that's what yo' want,' Katie said. ‘I'm going to look at the penny stall, see what I can win for myself.'

Mali stared down at the dusty ground beneath her feet. Her boots, shining when she'd left home, were dull and dowdy, looking as though she had been walking for hours in them. The hem of her skirt seemed to have become entwined in a bramble branch.

‘Can I help?' The voice that spoke close to her ear as she bent to pull at the brambles was resonant with suppressed laughter. Mali felt the colour sweep into her face as she looked up to see Sterling Richardson leaning over her.

His fingers were deft and strong and soon she was free and he was smiling down at her, his hair gleaming in the sunlight.

He seemed god-like to Mali in that instant, so tall and so strong and masculine that she felt amost in awe of him.

He began to walk along the field towards the avenue of trees that bordered the recreation ground and paused for a moment to look back at her. ‘Coming?' he asked lightly, as though he did not mind whether she did or not, and Mali found herself hurrying to catch up with him.

She was aware of her new skirt whispering around her feet and of the warm breeze fanning her hot cheeks. The sky overhead seemed a more brilliant blue than she'd ever known it to be and the few clouds were so white and fluffy that they might have been made from cotton wool.

They walked in silence and Mali could not help feeling tonguetied and gauche. She glanced up at Sterling's tallness and her heart missed a beat as she noticed the way his hair curled golden and crisp on the whiteness of his collar.

Turning, he met her eyes, and she felt as though she was drowning in deep violet seas. She looked away quickly, hoping he could not hear the way her heart was thudding in her breast. Why could she think of nothing to say to him? She should be laughing and happy, able to enchant him with stories of the laundry. But then, she imagined he was used to the ways of ladies of quality who spoke finely and confidently, as he did, and would find such conversation dull.

‘You are very silent,' he said glancing down at her. ‘And why are you here at the fair dressed in all your glory instead of working at the laundry?'

‘Mr Waddington has given us the day off,' Mali said, not looking at Sterling. She felt he was amusing himself at her expense and pride rose thick and hard in her throat.

‘Very good of Mr Waddington,' he said at last, ‘but then he doesn't have to worry about furnaces going out. They are a little different to wash-house boilers, you know, Mali.'

As before, the sound of her name on his lips had the power to thrill her. She tried to recall the times when they had spoken lightly together, confided in each other. There seemed to be a barrier between them now and she knew it was only her own awareness of him as a man that held her tonguetied.

He seemed to sense her shyness for he began to talk and as always she listened breathless with enchantment. He had the power to invest even the most casual conversation with magic and beauty and Mali was content to be at his side.

After a time, she managed to look up at him and at the same moment he turned his head. His eyes, in the sunlight, seemed clear and blue and the liking in them was unmistakable. She took a deep shuddering breath as he moved nearer to her.

For a moment the world seemed to spin in a haze of blue sky and tall trees full of blossoms and then everything was normal again as he looked away from her.

‘Let's leave the fair,' he said decisively. He took her hand and she sighed softly, almost holding her breath with happiness. She thought briefly of Katie but being with Sterling seemed to be the most important thing in the world.

It was calm on the long stretch of the beach and the golden dunes hid the recreation ground from view. Before them the sea lapped the shore and the small, white-capped waves sucked at the many pebbles as the waters retreated.

Mali threw her hat on the sand, trying vainly to tie back her unruly hair. At last, Sterling took the ribbon from her hand.

‘Come here,' he said with gentle impatience, ‘let me do it.'

The feel of him lifting the soft dark hair away from her neck was something Mali would always remember. His fingers brushing her skin were warm like a caress and she remained quite still, fearful of breaking some magical spell that must have weaved itself around them.

Taking her hand, Sterling drew her to her feet and with her fingers curled in his, she moved along the water line watching the small, gentle waves run up the beach to retreat with the sound of many pebbles being dragged along the wet sand.

Without speaking, Sterling kicked off his shoes and walked into the water and after a moment, Mali knelt and undid her boots with clumsy fingers. She stepped into the sea behind him and when he looked at her his gaze seemed to reflect sun and the deep blue of the shimmering water.

‘You really are very lovely, Mali Llewelyn,' he said and she could not tell from the look on his face if he was teasing her or not. But he must have been speaking in fun for the next moment, he had reached down into the water and was throwing a glittering cascade over her.

After a time, they sat together on the firm golden sand near the sea wall and Sterling leaned back, eyes closed, his bright hair falling over his forehead so that he seemed less stern than usual.

Mali studied him covertly, learning by heart every inch of his face from the straight level brows to the curve of his mouth beneath the moustache. His chin was firm, his jaw square, determined. He was a fine man, Mali thought to herself, the woman who won his heart would be fortunate indeed. And then she wondered why she felt a sudden sadness.

As Mali stared at him in silence, her body felt as though it was soaked in an ocean of joy. She knew that the sun and the sea and the fairground atmosphere would be hers again but it needed Sterling's presence to make it all magical.

He opened his eyes and then he was looking directly at her. Suddenly Mali was up and running barefoot along the beach, panic driving at her heels and excitement turning her stomach over. She could hear Sterling behind her and then he had caught her in his arms. She felt the soft breeze blow her hair across her face as the ribbon slipped from its place.

So slowly that he seemed scarcely to move, Sterling bent his head. For an endless stretch of time his mouth was poised over her own. She waited, still and breathless, blinded to everything but him.

The moment his lips touched hers, the world seemed to spin away into circles of golden light. His arms tightened around her and above them the seagulls screeched and fought, crying into the still air with harsh sounds.

The magic seemed to go on and on, she was aware that her arms had wound around him and that she was arching her neck so that her face was upturned to his. She wanted to laugh and cry at the same time, to shout her joy into the soft breeze. Then he released her so suddenly that she almost fell.

‘I think we should be getting back to the recreation ground.' He seemed distant, his eyes which seemed to change from light blue to violet according to his mood stared now away across the water. He was aloof from her and it was almost as though she had ceased to exist.

Then he seemed to sense her bewilderment. He smiled but it was impersonal, as though she might be a stray dog that he wished to show some kindness to.

‘You shall come and sit with me on the platform,' he said decisively. ‘I need a friendly face beside me if I'm to get through the prizegiving without falling asleep.'

She tried to protest but he hurried her away from the beach, scarcely giving her time to do up her boots. The sounds of the fair were swamping her thoughts, the bright wooden horses came into view plunging and rising on a nonstop merry go round.

As Mali went with him across the ground littered now with papers and half-eaten toffee apples, she was aware of the curious glances that followed her. She felt treumulous misgivings about sitting on the platform with him, what would people say? But Sterling did not hesitate, he led her quickly towards the far end of the field where the races were to take place.

It was the custom on the first day of the fair for the Sunday school superintendents and the more senior teachers to bring the pupils out for their annual treat. It was for this purpose the races were organised, and as a child Mali had taken part in them herself. She had stared up at the dignified ladies and gentlemen on the raised platform draped with flags from the various chapels, never imagining that she would one day sit among them.

The dais loomed large and imposing, the bright flags fluttering in the breeze. Several local dignitaries were already seated in high, hard-backed chairs and Mali's heart began to beat so swiftly that she could scarcely breathe. She stood quite still, hands clenched to her sides, overcome with fear and it was only Sterling's hand on her arm that propelled her forward.

Mali sank into the nearest vacant seat, staring straight ahead of her. Her colour was high and she had never felt so conspicuous and embarrassed in all her life.

‘Good day to you, Mali, I must say I didn't expect to meet one of my workers up here on the platform today, but the surprise is a pleasant one for all that.'

Mali turned slowly and her eyes widened as she saw Mr Waddington smiling at her affably, his silk scarf hanging around his thin neck in spite of the warmth of the sunshine. She did not know what to do, she could hardly bob him a curtsey in the circumstances. She tried to return his smile but her face felt frozen, her lips stiff.

Sterling had seated himself beside her and now he leaned forward. ‘Good day Ronnie. This young lady gave me the impression earlier that I'm not such a generous boss as you apparently are. Made of stern stuff is this Mali Llewelyn, solid gold, I should take good care of her if I were you.'

Mr Waddington nodded, not realising that Sterling was jesting.

‘As you say dear boy, she's worth her weight in gold and I do appreciate her, you may be assured.'

Mali leaned back in her seat, mortified that the two men knew each other and were talking about her as though she did not exist. She glanced around, wondering if she might make her escape, but the mayor was on his feet and had begun to speak to the crowd of people gathered around the platform.

Mali resigned herself to remaining where she was at least for the moment. She glanced sideways at Sterling and he was seated easily, his long legs stretched out before him, not at all discomfited. But she was among folks that her father would call her ‘betters' while he was with his own kind. It opened the divide between them wider than Mali could ever have imagined. What did she think she was about, romping over the sands with a man like Sterling Richardson? Tongues would soon start to wag about her if she wasn't careful.

Miserably she watched as the small girls from the Sunday schools, wearing their best dresses under frilled starched aprons, balanced hardboiled eggs on wooden spoons. She tried to join in the laughter but her hands trembled and her stomach felt as though it was inhabited by a hundred butterflies.

It was when Sterling rose to make the presentations that she realised the enormity of what she had done by sitting on the platform with him in full public view. Mrs Jones from Pentre Estyll Chapel led the winners from her class forward and her eyes rested frostily on Mali as though she had suddenly become untouchable.

The woman drew her skirts aside, turning her back on Mali, stiffly ordering the children forward one at a time. Mali huddled lower in her seat, her eyes downcast, and it occurred to her for the first time that she could easily be taken for Sterling Richardson's flossy.

Her cheeks flamed, she glanced neither to right nor left but sat in burning, shamed silence. The prizegiving seemed to drag on endlessly as child after child was handed a hymn book or a small testament and allowed to shake hands with the owner of the copper company. Mali closed her eyes, wishing that she was home again in the silence of her own kitchen.

At last, the ceremony was over and as a loud cheer rose from the crowd the sound seemed to echo in Mali's mind. As the clapping rose to a crescendo, she slipped from her place and hurried down the steps and then she was running the length of the recreation ground, wanting only to hide herself away where no one could see her.

Sterling sat in the office staring out into the rain-washed yard. Men were leaving after the night shifts, collars high around their necks, some with flannel scarves over the lower part of their faces. It was a cold wet morning, as far removed from the weather at the fair as winter was from summer.

Sterling tapped his pen against the sheet of paper before him and his mind was not on the columns of figures but on Mali Llewelyn and her sun-drenched face upturned to his, her small nose sunburnt, her eyes full of life and laughter. He had not enjoyed himself so much for a very long time, he had been stimulated by her company and she somehow managed, without flattery, to make him feel ten feet tall. When she had disappeared without a word, it did not take a great deal of intelligence to work out the reason behind her sudden, hasty departure for he had seen the derision in the eyes of the prissy Sunday school teacher as she had walked past the chair where Mali was seated.

‘Vinegary old witch,' he said out loud. He moved restlessly to the window, the rain was beating up from the cobbles hard and cold. A cat slid wetly around the corner and stood mewling at the door. Sterling opened it and the small animal ran gratefully to the stove and began to lick its fur.

Mali had been just like a kitten, he mused, innocent and unselfconscious, her happiness reflected in her face. It had not seemed wrong to take her onto the platform with him but he might have guessed that others would put their own interpretation on the situation. Since then, she had scarcely been out of his thoughts. He wanted very much to see her again and yet perhaps it was not wise to awake in her hopes that could never be fulfilled. He had seen the way she had looked at him, the admiration that could so easily become something more shining through her expressive face. She was not a flossy and could hardly be his wife so what was the use in pursuing the friendship they had built up between them?