Sinners and Shadows (37 page)

She was hungry for more news than Megan and Sali put in their letters. To be specific, news about Joey. She needed to know that he was if not safe, at least well. But despite Sali's letters and invitations, she lacked the courage to go down to Ynysangharad House and ask after him. And not just the courage, she reflected as she made her way back to the shop. The only day off she had was Sunday, and Edward commandeered every minute of that.

‘Edward?' His junior partner, Cedric, knocked the door and walked in. ‘Bad news?' he asked, seeing the stricken look on Edward's face.

‘Another letter from my son.' Edward folded it carefully and placed it in his desk drawer.

‘He still hasn't said where he is?'

‘No, but the postmark is London.'

‘Then he hasn't been shipped to the Front.'

‘Or he has, and sent this back with a soldier returning on leave.' Edward closed the drawer. ‘You wanted to see me?'

Cedric set the papers he was holding on to Edward's desk. ‘I've been through the rough draft of your new will and the instructions for transferring ownership of Llan House and the property next door.'

‘And?' Edward looked enquiringly at him.

‘It's not straightforward, Edward, but then it never is for a man in your situation.'

‘It's perfectly simple; all I want to do is cut my wife from my will and leave the bulk of my estate to Rhian Jones.'

‘Who is your mistress,' Cedric said pointedly.

‘Our relationship does not have to be detailed in my will.'

‘But you can bet your last farthing it will be by the Pandy rumour machine. Have you thought of the scandal this will cause should your wife contest this document, which any reputable solicitor will advise her to do after your death?' Cedric tapped the papers. ‘And it's not just your wife. You may want to give your son and daughter Llan House and the furniture now, but they won't get a penny piece under the terms of this new will.'

‘Because they each have their own trust fund and are wealthier than me.'

Cedric made a note on the top sheet of paper. ‘It might be as well to mention that in the will. Also, this business of signing the house next door over to Rhian now –'

‘Cedric, I have known you all your professional life and my acquaintance with the law is on a par with yours. I know there is no difficulty other than the possibility of Mabel contesting this will, so please, tell me, what is your problem?'

‘Can I be frank?'

‘I'd prefer it to all this procrastinating over what may or may not happen,' Edward snapped irritably.

‘Your mistress is a ripe little piece and I can understand why you are besotted with her. Where do you think I buy my cigars these days?' Cedric took two from his top pocket and tossed Edward one.

‘First, I don't like you talking about Rhian that way and second I'm not besotted with her any more than a man should be with his legal wife. We lead a perfectly normal domestic life next door.'

‘In sin.'

‘Some may call it that.' Edward was finding it increasingly difficult to control his temper.

‘She is thirty years younger than you.'

‘So?' Edward challenged.

‘Hasn't it occurred to you that she is with you only for what she can coax and wheedle out of you?'

‘You don't know Rhian.'

‘No? She was a maid, a nothing, a nobody, a skivvy without a penny piece to her name. Then she takes up with you and she finds herself in the lap of luxury. And before you say another word, I've seen the way she dresses and the jewellery she wears. And that's without your little jaunt to Brighton.'

‘How do you know about that?'

‘You can't sneeze without someone in Tonypandy finding out about it, Edward. You were seen.'

‘By who?'

‘Does it matter? The fact remains that you have bought this girl –'

‘I resent your inference. I have given Rhian no more than I gave Amelia and a damn sight less than Mabel takes.' Edward's anger finally reached boiling point.

‘All I'm saying is, take some time to think about what you're doing, before you sign over the house and shop to her. When word of this gets out, people are going to see you as an old fool and her as a gold-digger. And that's without your new will.'

‘I have the right to dispose of my assets any way I choose.'

‘The way you have drawn this up, your wife doesn't even have the legal right to reside in Llan House during her lifetime.'

‘Yes, she does.'

‘At Julia and Gerald's discretion.'

‘Which is perfectly fair. I want to sign the house over to them with vacant possession.'

‘And Mabel?'

‘I hope to get her out after Christmas.'

‘You haven't succeeded in getting her out so far, so what makes you think you'll be successful in getting her out a week or so from now?'

‘Her parents are visiting her at the moment. All the servants have left except for one young girl, so they had to bring their own housekeeper down with them. When they leave, Mabel will be on her own. She couldn't cope with a reduced staff; I can't see her coping with none.' Edward lit the cigar Cedric had given him.

‘And if Julia and Gerald don't want to live in the house right away?'

‘I'll shut it up and hand them the keys. I no longer want the responsibility of running the place or paying the bills that come with it. But I will continue to pay Mabel an allowance.'

‘You give your children the house, Rhian next door and you're left with your share of this business, your stocks, bonds and cash and nothing else. Not even the legal right to live next door should Rhian throw you out.'

‘She won't.'

‘Are you sure about that?'

‘Absolutely. That girl will do anything for me.'

‘Anything?' Cedric leered suggestively.

‘Anything,' Edward said harshly, his temper rising again at Cedric's tone.

‘I'd give a hundred pounds for a couple of hours with her in your bedroom next door.'

Edward left his chair and hit Cedric soundly on the jaw. His partner's chair rocked and toppled over, leaving Cedric lying on his back with his legs in the air.

‘For God's sake, Edward, you could have killed me.' Cedric clambered awkwardly to his feet and rubbed his head. ‘She is a tart –'

‘Rhian is my wife in all but name, Cedric. Go and draft my will and the transfer papers for next door and Llan House now, or I'll terminate our partnership before close of business.'

Chapter Nineteen

Rhian wrapped an ounce of tobacco in a sheet of brown paper, folded the edges and tied it into a neat parcel. She smiled at the toothless old man standing in front of the counter.

‘There you go, Mr Jenkins, one ounce of Skipper, navy cut. We'll see you next week.'

‘You will. Ta, love.' He opened the door, setting the bell ringing as he left the shop.

‘I think you have an admirer there, Miss Jones.' Mrs Ball carried a box of Taddy's Pigaroon cigarettes from the back storeroom and replenished the shelves. ‘I can't believe how quick the stock goes down.'

‘We shouldn't complain when it keeps us in work, Mrs Ball.' Rhian smiled again when the housekeeper from the vicarage walked in. ‘Good morning, Mrs Davies, you've come to pick up your weekly order?'

Mrs Davies looked down her long nose at Rhian. ‘That is why I'm here, Miss Jones.'

Rhian took her look of superiority to mean that the staff and family at the vicarage disapproved of her, but not enough to boycott the shop. Edward's decision to undercut his competitors in the town had paid dividends when it came to trade. He hadn't reduced the profits by much, but it had been amazing what a halfpenny and in some cases, a farthing reduction on a pack of cigarettes, ounce of tobacco or packet of cigars had accomplished in attracting custom.

‘Four ounces of Hignetts smoking mixture, sixty Glory's Reward cigarettes and ten best Havana cigars.' Rhian lifted the parcel she'd already wrapped from the shelf.

‘We'll expect your bill at the end of the month, Miss Jones.'

Rhian scribbled a note on the pad she kept beside the cash drawer but she waited until the housekeeper had left the shop before updating the ledger. Experience had taught her that customers disliked her detailing their purchases in front of them because it implied distrust. The door opened again and Edward's messenger boy ran in. He pushed an envelope across the counter.

‘It's urgent, Miss Jones.'

Rhian opened the envelope and read the note it contained.

‘You have to go?' Mrs Ball asked. Rhian usually received two or three ‘urgent' messages during the week that necessitated her absence for half an hour and sometimes longer.

‘I'm sorry, Mrs Ball. The lunchtime rush will start in ten minutes.'

‘I'll manage,' the elderly widow said philosophically.

‘Mr Ashton will be in this afternoon to look at pipes. Can you dust the cases for me, please?' Rhian asked diffidently. After years of service she found it difficult to give direct orders.

‘I'll see to it right away, Miss Jones.'

Rhian left the counter and opened the door that connected to the staircase of the house. Without bothering to remove the khaki overall she wore to protect her clothes in the shop, she locked it behind her and ran up the stairs to the living room.

Edward was sitting, grim-faced, reading a letter in his easy chair, his feet propped on the fender in front of the fire.

‘Is it from Gerald?' she asked, knowing how worried he had been about his son.

‘Yes, but like last time, it's an ordinary not military letter, postmarked London so it can't be traced back to a regiment. All he says is that he's well. There's not even a hint as to whether he's in France or still in this country.' Edward folded it and pushed it back into its envelope.

‘I am so sorry.'

‘So am I.' Edward pulled her down on to his lap. ‘I've tried just about everyone I know who has any influence, but they all say the same thing. More than a quarter of the volunteers in uniform are either overage or underage and it would be impossible to comb them all out of the services. I wrote to Gerald's school again this morning, but if any of the other boys have written home, I don't doubt they've sent the same kind of untraceable letter.'

He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her, hard on the mouth, bruising her lips against her teeth before unbuttoning her blouse and pulling her breasts free from her chemise and bust-shaper. There was no gentleness in his touch and she winced when he pinched her nipples. His lovemaking had become increasingly rough of late and she felt as though he were venting on her his rage and frustration with Mabel's obduracy, Gerald's absence and Julia's unsuitable marriage.

‘Was the letter the only reason you wanted to see me?' Rhian tried to rise but he held her fast.

‘I want to make love to you.'

‘People are buying Christmas presents. The shop will be busy –'

‘Mrs Ball can manage for half an hour,' he snapped. ‘Go into the bedroom.'

Rhian knew there was no reasoning with Edward when he was in this mood. Mabel's rejections had scarred him and he needed to prove that he could have her any time he wanted to. But the more she acquiesced to his demands, the more possessive and insistent he had become. Sending her notes at odd hours during the day to tell her that he needed to see her upstairs in half an hour, an hour, two hours, and not to be one minute late. And sometimes when she did go to their rooms, she found another note, telling her to undress and wait for him in bed. He even left instructions as to what underwear and perfume he wanted her to wear.

She went into the bedroom and he stood by the door.

‘Undress. I want to watch.'

She had remade and lit the fire in the bedroom that morning before going downstairs to work, but the air was chilly. ‘It's cold.'

‘I'll soon warm you.'

She took off her clothes one by one. Folding them neatly, she placed them on a chair before lying on the bed.

Edward stripped off his jacket and waistcoat, unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his trousers, before climbing on to her. ‘Don't move.'

‘What?'

‘I don't want you to move,' he snapped.

Rhian obediently remained passive. She closed her eyes and allowed him to use her body. She usually enjoyed their lovemaking, but whenever he assumed the dominant role, he gave no thought to her comfort or pleasure and not for the first time since they had shared a bed she felt exploited. The moment he climaxed he withdrew from her and looked at his watch.

‘You have a client?' she asked.

‘Not for half an hour, get into bed.' He stripped off and lay alongside her.

She crawled close to him and finally summoned the courage to ask, ‘What is the matter?'

He almost told her what had happened between him and Cedric, but sensing it would upset her, he held back. ‘I just needed you. Do you need me?'

Need was their substitute word for love, the emotion neither of them truly felt for one another, and they both knew it. ‘You know I do.'

‘And you'll always come running when I send for you.'

‘You don't want me to?' she asked warily.

Cedric had planted a seed of doubt and he wanted reassurance that she would stay with him even if he were poor, but instead he said, ‘You were late for lunch yesterday and you didn't eat anything when you came up.'

‘I told you, Bronwen and Meriel called in the shop and I went to the tea shop with them to say goodbye.'

‘Do you wish that you were leaving Tonypandy with them?'

‘No.' She entwined her fingers in the hair on his chest. ‘Has something happened? Because if it has, Edward, I'd wish you'd tell me about it.'

‘There's nothing to tell.'

‘You said we'd always be honest with one another,' she reminded him.

‘How long do you think this will last?' he said abruptly.

‘This? You mean us?' When he didn't answer her, she murmured, ‘I don't know.'

‘You must have some plans for your future,' he persisted.

‘Not beyond the present. I know what happened between us was sudden. If you regret taking me in and giving me the shop to run, please don't feel that you owe me anything. I'll go if you don't want me any more.'

Some devil in him wanted to try her further. ‘To where?' he asked.

‘Does it matter? I'd find a job and somewhere to live.'

‘In Pembrey, with Mrs Williams, Bronwen and Meriel?'

‘Probably. Mrs Williams invited me to stay at her cousin's boarding house and there's work nearby.' She looked up into his eyes, cool, blue and enigmatic. ‘Do you want me to go?'

‘No.' He swung his feet to the floor, picked up his clothes and padded in bare feet across the landing into the bathroom. She curled on her side under the bedclothes and stared at the wall.

Suddenly, he was pushing her away from him and she didn't know how to reach out to him.

‘Some spring weather we're having, madam,' the cab driver shouted above the noise of his engine.

‘You'd never think it was Easter in a few weeks,' Julia agreed. ‘Stop, you can drop me here.'

‘You sure, madam?' he asked dubiously. ‘The snow's deep and it's coming down thick and fast.'

‘I have an umbrella and I could do with the fresh air.' Julia had an urge to run through the snow and kick it, crunching the prints of her thick, rubber-soled boots into its smooth shining expanse. She wanted to twirl around, and catch flakes on her gloves so she could study their shapes just as she had done when she'd been a child and tossed snowballs at the trees …

‘That will be ninepence, madam.'

Julia opened her handbag and extracted a shilling. ‘Keep the change.'

The driver tipped his cap to her and drove off.

More than play time she also needed thinking time, she reflected soberly. Sali had introduced her to her solicitor, Mr Richards, and with his help she had just signed a contract to buy a half-completed, spacious and expensive villa on the outskirts of Pontypridd. Once the builder had confirmed that she was amenable to paying for extras, he had been happy to incorporate Geraint's demands into the specifications. But now, when she was committed to buying the place, she wasn't at all sure that she wanted to take possession and sit there in splendid isolation until peace brought Geraint's return.

When the war hadn't ended at Christmas, the newspapers began to print editorials predicting that the conflict would last for years, especially after the German and Allied troops dug themselves into opposing trenches in France. And the battlegrounds were covering an ever-widening front with troops being sent into the colonies in Africa, and German naval ships shelling towns off the north-east coast of Britain.

She wanted to do more for her country – and herself than choose wallpaper patterns, arrange furniture and wait for the return of a husband whose only contact with her was a weekly duty letter. Brief notes that always ended with apologies for being unable to see her because the few days' leave that he was able to take were not long enough for him to travel from France to Pontypridd and back. She often wondered what they would do if he did turn up. Rent the suite in the New Inn again, because he couldn't get on with Sali and Lloyd? Share stilted meals and conversations and sleep in separate bedrooms until it was time for his return?

She hadn't been happy in her father's house, but since she had left, her days had been just as empty, apart from the time she spent with Sali, Lloyd and their children. And despite their warm welcome and efforts to draw her into their family, she was conscious that she was an outsider, invited into their home because she was related. She only hoped the children would never resent her the way she and her brother had done her father's elderly and crotchety spinster aunts when they'd come to visit her family when she'd been a child.

Brushing the snow from the metal bars of the small pedestrian gate at the side of the towering main gates of Ynysangharad House, she compressed it into a snowball and flung it at a tree. It hit the centre of the trunk and she smiled in satisfaction before pushing the gate open and walking through. When she turned to close it, a uniformed soldier ran up only to stop a couple of yards away.

‘Get back!'

‘Pardon?' She had seen cleaner and more reputable-looking tramps. Several days of beard growth blackened his cheeks. His boots, trench coat and what little could be seen of the rest of his clothes was covered in snow, but it wasn't thick enough to obliterate the filth. And even from a distance he stank of male sweat, farmyard odours and other things she'd rather not think about.

‘I mean it, get back,' he shouted.

She clutched her handbag with both hands and retreated.

He walked through the gate. ‘I didn't mean to frighten you, but I'm lousy.'

She stared at him in confusion.

‘I have lice,' he explained.

‘Oh dear!' It was a ridiculous remark but she didn't know how else to respond to his declaration.

‘I've come from France, and it's taken me two days to get here. I take it you're going to Ynysangharad House?'

‘Yes.'

‘So am I. That's if Mari will let me in. I'm Lloyd's brother, Joey.'

‘Joey, the one who …' She faltered when she realized he had been Rhian's fiancé.

‘Enlisted,' he finished for her. ‘If we don't get moving we'll become snowmen. It's brave of you not to be frightened of me. You're the first woman I've met since I left France who hasn't thrown up her hands in horror and run as fast she could in the opposite direction.'

‘That's a bit harsh when you're fighting for us.'

‘Thank you, but this war has shattered my illusions. I grew up on tales of the Knights of the Round Table. The book said everything about noble warriors, beautiful damsels, chivalry and heroic deeds, and nothing at all about living rough through a miserable freezing winter, coping with wet feet, equipment that chafes in delicate and unmentionable places, and being munched by lice. But then, it must have been a lot worse in King Arthur's time. I would hate to sit in a snow-filled or waterlogged trench in a suit of rusting armour.'

‘I don't think the damsel would be too keen on dirtying her flowing white robe by embracing a rusty knight either.'