Sea Mistress (23 page)

He kissed her fingers, ‘I won't do any boasting, Rosie, I'm grateful to you, I think I love you.'

She smiled. ‘Aye, well you'll think yourself in love many a time yet but wait for the real thing, Boyo, the waiting is worth it.'

When they returned to the glow of the dying fireside, Harry's eyebrows lifted, a smile curved his mouth. ‘I see the flush of happiness, if I'm not mistaken,' he spoke softly, approvingly. Rosie rested her hand on his shoulder for a moment. ‘Harry, this boy didn't need no teaching from me, he's a natural lover, whichever girl gets him, she's going to be one satisfied customer, believe me.'

The blood beat in Boyo's temples, he felt he would burst with pride. He knew what it was all about now, this thing between a man and a woman. The mystery was no more. With a feeling of happiness, he knew he need not boast, or preen, he fully accepted what Rosie had said; a real man has no need to talk about his conquests, he could hold the knowledge to him, his own special secret for ever.

‘Have another drink, lad,' Harry said gently, ‘I reckon you're one of us now.' Boyo crouched beside Harry and touched the gleaming curve of the fiddle.

‘Will you teach me to play, Harry?' he asked humbly. Harry smiled. ‘Aye, I will that, Boyo, you are eager to grasp life but remember there will be nettles as well as Rosies.' He laughed at his own joke and punched Boyo lightly on his arm. ‘Enjoy life, don't hurt anybody, if you can help it, and you won't go far wrong.'

Boyo sighed luxuriously, stretching his arms up to the stars. He had a mug of ale in front of him and Rosie at his side. He felt good, he felt he was no longer a green lad.

On Sunday morning, instead of attending his own church in the centre of town, he went to Cwmbwrla to hear Evan Roberts preach. Boyo sat alongside a group of other boys of his own age, they seemed juvenile and silly as they folded up pieces of paper and flicked them surreptitiously at the congregation.

Boyo wondered if Evan Roberts had ever enjoyed the sins of the flesh but the thought seemed blasphemous and he thrust it away. The hymns were the ones he knew and he sang cheerfully, his light voice lifting to the rafters along with the deep bass of some of the older men. Boyo liked going to church, it had been forced upon him in the workhouse where he spent his childhood but he had always found it an escape from his unhappiness. It was a place where voices were never raised in anger, where brows were clear and people spoke kindly to each other.

Boyo wondered if his sin was unpardonable, he had taken a woman outside the marriage bed, that was wrong, he knew it. He felt uncomfortable for a moment but then Evan Roberts began to speak. His fervour was unmistakable, his face shone with conviction, he told them in plain terms that God would forgive them all their sins, that he had sent his son Jesus into the world to save sinners.

Boyo felt better. He was not going to be doomed for ever because he had tasted Rosie's sweet sinfulness. He shifted uneasily in his seat, embarrassed to be remembering such a lustful scene in the holiness of the chapel. He ran his finger around his collar and eased the stiffness away from the newly shaved skin of his neck. He glanced down at his wrists, they were protruding from the sleeves of his best, his only, suit which he was fast outgrowing.

He thought with warmth of the savings he had accumulated since he'd been working at the tannery, he had quite a bit of money put by in the bank in Wind Street in Swansea, perhaps it was time he bought himself some new clothes.

He tried to concentrate on the service but a group of ladies were standing beside the preacher singing sweetly, mouths opening and closing like those of the young birds in the spring. His attention was wandering, he glanced over his shoulder and suddenly sat up straighter, Ellie Hopkins was seated across the aisle from him. She felt his glance and turned, a smile lit up her face and she lifted her hand in greeting. She looked fresh and sweet and innocent. So different from Rosie. He immediately felt the thought was mean and unworthy.

At Ellie's side was the reporter from
The Swansea Times,
handsome enough but so sure of himself, so polished. Of course he was older than Boyo by at least three years and from a good family by the look of his clothes and from the sound of his voice. Posh he was, his accent only faintly noticeable. Boyo envied Daniel Bennett, his privileged background gave him the right to escort a lady like Ellie to church. Of course it was all very proper, their being in church together because Martha was there too, her face turned earnestly toward the pulpit where Evan Roberts was standing once more, the ladies having subsided like full-blown roses into their seats.

Still, there was something about the situation that Boyo didn't like, Ellie was Jubilee's widow, she was Boyo's idol, untouchable, on a pedestal and he could see by the way Daniel was leaning close, the way he was looking into Ellie's eyes that he wanted her. Boyo knew the signs and from experience he thought with a sense of shame. Who was he to judge another man, he wasn't exactly without sin, himself, was he?

Boyo tried to imagine Ellie, her breasts exposed, her legs akimbo, the way Rosie had been last night but the image was an impossible one to conjure into his mind and in any case, it was surely sinful to harbour such thoughts at a time like this when everyone's head was bowed in prayer.

‘If we are to be fools, make us fools for thee.' The earnest voice rang out in the silence and Boyo looked down at his boots, good boots, made from leather from Glyn Hir. Was he a fool, he wondered? Perhaps he was, he had snatched at what Rosie offered him and though it had given him momentary gratification, he did not feel good inside himself. Perhaps it took love to make this sweetness between a man and a woman right.

The last hymn was being sung, Boyo stood and looked around him realizing he was taller than any of the boys standing beside him, taller than many of the men in the congregation, come to that. He was growing up. Perhaps he should give his mind a chance to catch up with his body, he thought moodily. The congregation was moving now, edging out towards the doors to where the sunlight poured in. Ellie smiled at Boyo and walked along beside him.

‘Will you walk along with us, Boyo?' she asked and he felt a warmth flow through him. How many bosses would stoop to be seen with their most menial worker? But then, until Jubilee's death, Boyo and Ellie had worked side by side, she thrusting the plates into the grinder and he carrying the baskets of oak bark to the yard.

He fell into step beside her and to his satisfaction saw that Daniel was forced to walk with old Martha who was complaining bitterly at the sudden squall of rain which was making the feathers on her hat go limp. Boyo resisted the urge to laugh.

‘What's amusing you?' Ellie was nothing if not perceptive.

‘I'm sorry, I'm just looking at the way Martha's feathers are giving up the ghost, slowly they're creeping down her forehead, they'll be touching her nose in a minute.'

Ellie's eyes lit up as she glanced over her shoulder at Martha. She squeezed Boyo's hand and pressed her lips together and he could see that she was bursting to laugh out loud. After a moment, she composed herself. ‘How's work in the yard, Boyo, still managing without me, are you?'

‘Aye, Ellie, managing but not liking it much. You were fair by me but some of the men seem to think I'm built like a mule and able to carry baskets of bark chippings at the double.'

‘Well, you are grown up, now,' she said reasonably and he looked at her wondering how much she knew of last night's events. He saw her frown and rich colour flooded into his face. That Rosie, she never could keep her mouth shut, she was a fine one to be telling him not to boast.

‘I suppose you think I should save myself for my wife.' The words were spoken before he had time to withdraw them and he regretted them at once. He should have remained silent, kept his dignity but now the subject of his initiation into manhood was open for discussion.

‘I'm not the right person to tell anyone what to do with their life.' Ellie's voice was gentle. ‘I've made mistakes, it often happens when you're very young.'

Boyo had heard of Ellie's past, who in Swansea hadn't? But she was an innocent, beautiful and trusting, she had doubtless been taken advantage of. ‘But you thought you were in love, when you made your mistake, that's true, isn't it?'

‘It's true but I shouldn't have allowed myself to settle for second best. I knew the love was one-sided, it couldn't ever have worked even if I'd been married to the man. Don't ever do that, Boyo, settle for second best.'

The rain had ceased, the sun was warming the pavements, steam was rising from the cobbled streets. Suddenly, it was good to be alive and Boyo squared his shoulders as he walked along, side by side with Mrs Ellie Hopkins, owner of Glyn Hir Tannery.

‘He's a little in love with you,' Daniel's voice was warm, good humoured and Ellie looked at him as he sat beside her in the garden. He had eaten roast dinner with her at Glyn Hir and now they were spending Sunday afternoon together, enjoying the wash of warm sunshine.

‘It's just a fancy, he will forget it all when he meets a girl his own age.'

‘You talk as if you're an ancient.'

‘I suppose I am in terms of experience of life and the unhappiness it can bring.'

Daniel leaned forward and took her hand. ‘You are wise and beautiful, a lovely woman. And before you chastise me again, yes, I know it's too soon to speak of my feelings to you but they are there, I can't deny them.' He sighed and drew away. ‘In any case, there's something else I wish to talk to you about.'

She looked at him, his face was grave and she knew that he was going to speak to her of something very important to him. ‘Is there a problem, if so, is there anything I can do to help?' As she waited for him to marshal his thoughts, she was uneasy, wondering if there was anything wrong in his life, he was usually most amiable, a man given to few swings of mood.

‘I am thinking of giving up journalism.' The words fell into the silence of the bright afternoon. A lone bee droned among the late roses and Ellie felt herself grow tense.

‘Are you going away?' The thought seemed unbearable, she knew in that instant how much she wanted Daniel at her side.

‘Perhaps. I want to go into the church. I'm not sure yet how to go about it but I shall learn.'

‘Were you influenced so much by Evan Roberts?'

‘I think so and yet I know I don't want to work, like him, in the non-conformist chapels, I want a living in a proper parish, I want to put down roots, preferably in Swansea. But if my ministry took me away from here would you come with me?'

‘Ask me again, Daniel,' she said, ‘when the time is right. When the year of mourning for my husband is past, then ask me.'

Perhaps by then, she thought dismally, Daniel would have changed his mind, found someone more suitable, she was hardly the type to be the wife of a cleric, was she?

He gave a huge sigh of relief. ‘I take heart from that. You would be with me all the way, I know, accepting the demands of being a vicar's wife with grace.' He paused, ‘Am I asking too much, could you bear being at everyone's beck and call?'

Ellie flung back her head and laughed, not knowing how lovely she appeared to Daniel as he leaned towards her longing to kiss her white throat. ‘Bless you, don't you think that's what I've always done here at the tannery? I've been the dogsbody, running everywhere trying to do everything at once, after this a life as a vicar's wife would be peaceful, believe me.'

He took her hand, ‘We are betrothed then?' he kissed her fingertips. ‘I wish now I'd brought you a ring.'

She shook her head. ‘No, not yet, let me give Jubilee his due respects before anything is made official. This is just between you and me, you do understand that, don't you Daniel?'

‘All right, Miss Cautious, we are promised to each other but only we will know it, does that suit you?'

‘Come on,' she said, ‘the sun is going behind the clouds, it's going to rain again, we'd better go inside.'

‘But in there, I can't hold your hand, can't kiss your fingers, can't sit so close to you, don't be cruel to me, Ellie.'

‘Behave yourself.' She rose to her feet and shook the creases from her skirts and looked directly at him. ‘One day we will be man and wife, for now let the thought be enough for both of us.'

Boyo was lying in his bed, stretched out like a starfish, his legs projecting over the sides of his narrow bed. He came awake slowly, someone else was in the room. He sat up quickly, his heart was in his throat. ‘Who is it?'

‘Hush, it's all right, it's me, Rosie, don't make a fuss.' She crept beneath the blankets and he felt her nakedness against him. Immediately he was roused.

He groaned, ‘You shouldn't have come here, what about Matthew?'

‘Matthew's not back yet from town, probably having his fill of pleasure with some wench from one of the taverns. Anyway, boy, don't look a gift-horse in the mouth, see?'

She took his head and drew it down onto her breasts, he had tasted the full, resilient sweetness and knew he could not resist. She was a witch, she knew what a man liked, her hands worked magic upon him, he wanted to take her, to possess her, he could wait no longer. But she made him wait, she made him learn how to please her and he learned eagerly, knowing that this was simply a preliminary to achieving his own splendid release. And as he touched her intimately, felt her move and moan, grip him tightly, arch herself upwards, waiting for him, he experienced a surge of power that exhilarated him. It was almost daylight before she allowed him to rest and he slept like a child, curved against Rosie's breast.