Sea Mistress (8 page)

She held out the handwritten note she had found and he took it and studied it with a puzzled frown.

‘This is old Mr Elias's handwriting, you are a silly girl to make out anything suspicious from this.' He attempted to hold her close for a moment but she remained rigid in his arms.

‘Look,' his tone held a note of resignation. ‘I'll have to let the master know I'm not sailing, otherwise the man will miss the tide.' Paul turned away with an air of determination and entered the docklands, his hands thrust into his pockets, his head high.

Bridie returned to the coach and climbed aboard, she would go home and wait for Paul and woe betide him if he didn't follow, she would throw him out on the street without compunction. They were living in the house she had bought with her own money, he would do well to remember that fact. Whatever excuses he made, she intended to nip this little affair in the bud, teach Paul that he couldn't trifle with other women and still enjoy all the luxuries
her
money had brought him.

She pursed her lips angrily. As for Ellie Hopkins, she could look out, she would have to learn it wasn't wise to make an enemy of Bridie Marchant.

CHAPTER FIVE

Arian sat in the small room that lacked any sort of luxury and looked towards the preacher who was standing near the window, his hands thrust into his pockets. Beside her Mac, his notebook in his hand, was scribbling swiftly.

Arian had expected Evan Roberts, the great revivalist, to be verbose, had expected flowery phrases to pour from his lips, but there was a simplicity about the man that was more impressive than the greatest of oratory.

‘You feel God has called you to this work then, Mr Roberts?' Arian asked gently. ‘When did you know that you were cut out for the ministry?'

Evan Roberts looked at her with strangely compelling eyes. He was slow to speak, almost as though the thoughts were turning over in his head and being sifted before he replied to her question. ‘The principal of the grammar school which I attended urged his pupils, myself included, to listen to the preachings of Seth Joshua. I was greatly impressed by the man and subsequently took the Lord into my heart.'

He paused, the words did not come easily to him. ‘Thereafter, I wept and prayed without ceasing and when I came out of my own Gethsemane, I knew that a great revival was about to begin.' He paused, his conviction that he was right was impressive. ‘I was charged by God with going out and spreading the gospel. I gave up my preparation for the ministry to lead the nation to Calvary.'

‘Strong words,' Mac said. ‘Coming from someone else, sir, they would seem like boasting but I've heard of your great following in your own village and of your influence on Loughor. Indeed I've seen the effects of your work on the good citizens of Swansea and though I might not agree with your views, I certainly feel the need to respect them.'

Arian's eyebrows lifted a little, it wasn't like Mac to admit to being impressed. And yet, didn't she too feel the presence of this man Evan Roberts who spoke of his faith so simply?

‘You are quite willing to be quoted in my newspaper?' Arian felt obliged to ask.

Evan Roberts inclined his head gravely. ‘If my words can reach out to people, bring them to their maker in humility and love, then I will be grateful to you and your newspaper.'

He moved towards the door. ‘Now, if you will excuse me, I have people waiting who need my council and my prayers. This work is important, you see?'

Arian rose at once. She felt that Mac wanted to extend the interview but she looked down at him, where he remained stubbornly seated and shook her head.

We've kept Mr Roberts long enough.' She smiled to soften her words. ‘Let's go back to the office, you can knock the piece into shape ready for tomorrow's edition.'

In the hallway, Evan Roberts paused, a strangely youthful man for such a calling and yet one who appeared to have the wisdom of the ages engraved into his face.

‘God be with you, friends.' The door closed and Adrian felt as if she had been granted a rare gift.

‘He's a holy man, there's no doubting his sincerity or his conviction.' She looked up at Mac who was adding a few words to his hastily scrawled notes.

‘I can only agree,' his tone was dry, ‘much as I hate to admit it even an old reprobate like me felt the power of the man. I think he's going to take the whole of Wales by the throat and make them follow him and his God.'

Arian pulled on her gloves. ‘Well, it's our place to report the news not to make any predictions,' she smiled. ‘Not that you'll worry about that, you'll write your piece as you see fit as you always do and I will doubtless agree that it's a work of genius.'

That evening she talked about the interview with Calvin; he was seated in the large chair near the window that looked down onto the teeming life in the Strand below. Arian stood beside him and rested her hand on his shoulder and leaning forward saw a line of Chinese men, undoubtedly off one of the ships, walking one behind the other, large plaits hanging down their backs.

‘It's a strange world all right,' she said. ‘The Chinese have their own sort of God, the Egyptians theirs, who can say who is in the right?'

Calvin turned her to face him and took her in his arms, drawing her into a chair to rest on his knee. ‘I love you, Arian Smale, especially when you're so serious and grave, I love your little nose, your beautiful eyes and most of all I love your silver hair.'

He pulled at the pins and Arian's hair fell in shining waves over her shoulders. Calvin moved the strands aside and kissed her neck.

‘You must agree, though, Calvin, it's a strange thing, this religion. Do you know, I almost envied Evan Roberts, so sure of his faith, so filled with peace.'

‘Stop talking and pay a little attention to me,' Calvin whispered in her ear and Arian felt herself responding to him with a warmth and languor that never seemed to diminish.

She kissed his mouth, her tongue probing his, she ran her hands over the broadness of his shoulders and desire began its slow course through her blood. But even as he touched her breast, she knew that the desire was heightened because she loved Calvin deeply, loved him for his unconditional acceptance of the little she had to give him.

‘Come to bed,' she said softly. Arm in arm, they left the sitting room, leaving the fire to spit and the coals to shift in the grate until the embers burned with only a faint glow.

‘Sorry I didn't seem to get very far with Paul Marchant.' Ellie took Jubilee's gnarled hand in her own. ‘I was ill prepared, I should have known more about the quantity of goods he owed us for, I felt a real fool, believe me.'

‘You should never have gone alone,' Jubilee grumbled. He was seated at his desk in the study of the old house, his account books before him. It was a shabby room but warm with books lining the walls and the scent of pipe tobacco that was Jubilee's hallmark.

‘I worry when I think of you down at the docks with all those foreigners flocking around you.' Jubilee's aversion to anyone from outside British shores was well known and Ellie hid a smile.

‘It might seem amusing to you, my girl,' Jubilee was not fooled by her attempt to conceal her laughter. ‘But you could have been abducted, harmed in some way. Don't you ever do such a thing again, mind.'

‘I won't, I promise, but then you're well enough to do the errands yourself now, especially if you take one of the men with you.' She forbore to tell him of her heated encounter with Marchant's wife. It would be more ammunition for him to use against her for being so pigheaded as to go to the offices without Matthew for company.

‘Aye, that's as maybe.' Jubilee sounded noncommittal and Ellie looked at him thoughtfully.

‘You
are
all right, aren't you, love?' She pressed his hand with hers.

‘I'm well enough but I'm not getting any younger, you've got to face facts, girl, I can't live for ever. I worry about you, you've got no head for business, you don't know how to make two and two add up to four.'

‘Well teach me then,' Ellie said reasonably, ‘perhaps I can learn.'

Jubilee shook his head. ‘No, some women are not cut out for it and you are one of them. A brood of babbas you should have round your skirts, a natural mother that's the sort you are.'

‘Well, it wasn't to be, was it?' Ellie tried to smile even as she acknowledged her weakness. She might as well face it, she was one of life's failures.

‘You're a good wife to me,' Jubilee said softly. Sometimes, Ellie thought, it was almost as if he could read her mind.

‘It's easy to be a good wife to you, Jubie,' she kissed his brow, leaning a little on his shoulder. ‘You're a fine handsome man, a good man.'

‘I don't know about good.' Jubilee said dryly. ‘I would like to be good but I'm too fond of the ale and the smoke of my pipe and the lewd talk of the men in the yard when you're not there to be good.'

‘Perhaps we should go to listen to the preacher again.' Ellie was only half serious. ‘It seems he's having a great effect on those who go to his meetings.'

‘Perhaps you're right,' Jubilee said, ‘the nearer I get to the grave, the more I think I should look for an afterlife while there's still time.'

Ellie hugged her husband impulsively. ‘I wish you wouldn't talk like that, I need you, Jubie, I can't manage without you.'

‘Of course you'd manage.' Jubilee spoke firmly, ‘Matthew could run the tannery perfectly well, he's got the way of a leader, the men would listen to him. To show my confidence in him I've sent him down to the docks to see the accountant in Marchant's office about that dratted bill.'

‘See, I failed even in that simple task.' Ellie pressed her cheek against Jubilee's and felt the dryness of his skin with a sense of alarm. ‘You're sure you are feeling well, love?'

‘As well as a man my age has the right to feel. Now go on, do some sewing, anything, but leave me in peace. I must get these figures in order for Caradoc Jones, you know how I take a pride in my books.'

Obediently, Ellie left the study and made her way into the small sitting room. Everywhere, even here in the house, the tang of the tannery yard permeated the air. It was in her clothes, on her skin, however much she bathed, she couldn't rid herself of the smell of leather.

She sat down before the ancient organ and began to pump with her feet. She knew only a few tunes, hymns most of them, melodies she had learned from her mother. Those were the days when her mother cared about her, before Ellie had disgraced the family by becoming a cast-off mistress who was bearing the fruits of her sin for all to see.

She should not be bitter, it did no good and yet Ellie found it difficult to be anything else. Her hands fell idle as she tried to envisage her future without Jubilee. Matthew in charge, Matthew free to make advances to her, it didn't bear thinking about.

Of course Jubilee would know nothing of Matthew's overtures to her in private, he trusted the man, probably believing him happy with the girl he was walking out with. What Jubilee didn't realize, Matthew had a different girl for every month of the year, or so it seemed to Ellie who had to listen to his boasting.

She shook the thoughts from her mind, Jubilee was all right, he would live to a ripe old age. And yet, her eyes were misted with tears that fell onto the worn ivory keys beneath her hands that suddenly trembled.

When Matthew came to the door of Jubilee's house, he was smiling with such an air of confidence about him that Ellie knew instinctively he'd succeeded in his task. ‘Good news, boss,' he stood in the hallway, his cap twisted in his hands, his bold eyes taking in his surroundings as though he could picture himself occupying them. ‘I think I've persuaded the people down at Marchant's shipping office to buy a regular load of leather from us. What's more,' his smile was triumphant, ‘the bill is paid in full, I have the money here.'

‘Come into the study, Mat,' Jubilee said clapping the younger man on the shoulder, ‘tell me all about it.'

The door closed on the two men and Ellie was excluded from the talk of business which did not concern her. Well, she couldn't blame Jubilee for shutting her out, she had had her chance and failed dismally.

She thought with a sense of discomfort of the scene between herself and Bridie Marchant, how unjust the accusations Bridie had flung at Ellie had been and how undignified her own response to them. Well, it was not an incident that was likely to be repeated, she should put it out of her mind once and for all.

She moved into the garden, in spite of the buds fresh on the trees, the air was chill with a hint of rain. It would have been good to breathe in the scent of the spring flowers but the all pervading smell of the tannery encroached even so far as the house and garden.

Jubilee would have done well to build his home well away from the yard, it would be worth the inconvenience of travelling every day to be free from the stink of rotting flesh and soaking leather. Ellie supposed that Jubilee no longer noticed it. He had grown up with the tannery, the very skin of his face and hands were as one with the leather, his fingers stained with much dipping in the residue of oak bark and water in which he worked.

Now, with his health failing, he was working much less and yet it irked him to be idle, he wanted nothing more than to be out at the pits or in the currying house with the men. Ellie was sad for him, understanding his frustration only too well, she had frustrations of her own to contend with.

Later, when her husband emerged from the study, he was smiling. Behind him, Matthew was looking at her with something like triumph in his eyes.