The Wild Seed (31 page)

‘No, but you might fade away with boredom. Sort out your future while you are young, love, you don’t want to be working for someone else for the rest of your life, do you?’

Catherine rose to her feet. ‘Doreen, the farm failed because I was not good enough at working it, I might as well face the fact that even if I did get it back the same problems would be there waiting for me.’

‘Well, if you are sure in your mind that this is what you want, then you will do your best at it but think on what I’ve said and think hard.’

The door opened and the two unmarried shop girls came into the room. They were sisters, alike and well-groomed, their clothes ironed to perfection probably by their doting widowed mother. For a moment, Catherine felt very alone.

‘I’m starving, any biscuits in the tin?’

‘Give over, Jess,’ Doreen said, ‘you eat like a cart-horse and stay as thin as a reed, there’s no justice in this world.’

‘Go on, look at the pot calling the kettle black.’ Jess Painter pushed Doreen’s arm playfully, spilling a little of her tea. ‘Oops! Sorry!’

‘Always was awkward, her,’ Doreen spoke as if Jess was not there. ‘Must have been born awkward, silly cow.’

Catherine knew the banter was good-natured, she felt part of it and it was a good feeling. She took the tin from the cupboard and placed it on the table.

‘Where’s the china plate and the doily then?’ Jess asked in mock indignation.

‘Fish and find out.’ Doreen pushed a biscuit into her tea and sucked on it in delight.

‘Pig!’ Jess said good-naturedly.

‘Oh, look at this picture in the paper,’ – Pippa nudged her sister – ‘I could swoon over him, such lovely eyes. Wonder what he’s done to have the police after him.’

Jess took the paper and shook the pages flat. ‘
Duw
, he’s a right good-looker.’ She was quiet for a moment and then she looked up. ‘Poor man’s been accused of stealing from some rich piece by the name of Hopkins, an old biddy by what it says here. Don’t believe such a handsome man would need to steal anything, I’d give him anything he wanted for nothing, me.’

The name registered on Catherine and instinctively she moved forward to look over Jess’s shoulder. She stared at the picture in silence, shock washing over her as the face of Liam Cullen looked out at her from the pages of
The Swansea Times
.

‘Let me read that.’ She took the paper from Jess’s hands and sank into a chair, her hands trembling.

‘What’s the matter, Cath? You look like you seen a ghost.’ Doreen, more perceptive than the others, leaned anxiously towards her. ‘Do you know this geezer or what?’

‘I know him, he’s my cousin, well sort of.’

Pippa smiled knowingly. ‘Oh, aye, kissing cousins like, is that it?’

Catherine shook her head ignoring the good-natured banter. ‘Liam wouldn’t need to steal anything, he has lots of money of his own. He’s got a farm in Ireland, a very good farm. Why should he want to take a brooch of all things and why should he have run away? It doesn’t make sense.’

‘Men do that all the time, love,’ Doreen said dryly. ‘Steal things and then run away. Still, you better get round to the police and tell them what you know; might just let this Liam chap off the hook.’

Catherine bit her lip, she had been happy to remain as she was, out of the reach of both Liam and Boyo, left in peace to try to sort out her life but now fate had stepped in to shake her out of her rut. She sighed heavily, Doreen was right, she must go to the police station, she could hardly allow Liam to be accused of such a silly crime without at least trying to help.

‘I’ll ask for time off this afternoon.’ She turned away from the table and busied herself building up the fire. Her back and shoulders were tense, a warning to the others not to pursue the matter. Her mind was racing, her tranquillity was smashed to pieces, she had been enjoying a quiet life but now it appeared all that was about to end.

It was late afternoon by the time she was able to make her way to the small station just off one of the side-streets of the town. She moved in through the doors, glancing round nervously.

‘Yes, miss, can I help? I’m Police Sergeant Meadows.’ A police officer was staring down at her and, with a shock, Catherine realized this huge, hard-faced man was Doreen’s husband. His brow was furrowed as he stared at her and Catherine swallowed hard.

‘Can I speak to someone in charge of the Liam Cullen case, please?’

‘Well, now, if you have any information about this man’s whereabouts you can tell me.’ He had suddenly become alert, she had all his attention. He took out a pencil and sucked on the end before drawing a sheet of paper towards him. ‘What’s your name and where have you seen this man?’

‘I’m Catherine O’Conner.’ She could see the name meant nothing to him. If he had ever known about her disappearance from Swansea, the matter had been of little or no importance to him.

‘I haven’t seen him, I mean, I know him. He’s a very rich man, he wouldn’t want to steal anything.’

The sergeant was looking suspiciously at Catherine, his eyes running over her, noting her good clothes and her well-polished shoes. ‘Where is he now?’

‘I don’t know,’ Catherine said, shaking her head.

‘Well, there seems little point in you coming here wasting my time then.’

Sergeant Meadows looked down at her. ‘The charge against this itinerant was brought by Mrs Bethan Hopkins. It is a matter of great importance; Mrs Hopkins is a very respectable lady.’

‘Rich and influential too.’ Catherine was angry, she spoke with a sarcasm that was lost on the man.

‘Precisely. Now, miss, if you have nothing else to say I would ask you to go about your business and stop wasting my time.’

He was so pompous Catherine could have slapped him. She turned on her heel and left the station and headed along the road, not seeing the traffic, not aware of a tall figure stopping before her until a hand grasped her arm.

‘Catherine!’

She looked up into the face of Boyo Hopkins and the shock of seeing him brought tears to her eyes. She brushed them away angrily and shook off his hand.

‘If only you knew how hard I’ve searched for you,’ he said, drawing her into a doorway. ‘I’ve been out of my mind with worry.’

‘Worried that you might not get my farm away from me, that’s about the size of it.’ She stared up at him, her eyes hard now, her heart slowing to a quieter pace.

‘I never wanted your farm.’ He shook his head, ‘Catherine, I never asked you for anything, did I?’

‘Let’s get this clear, you bought the farm, which you didn’t want. You searched so hard for me that you didn’t find me.’ She stared up at him, her cheeks flushed.

He was silent and Catherine felt her anger build like a sheet of flame. ‘I have had nothing but trouble since I became your … your mistress. My prize bull was ruined, I was attacked in my own home, then I was kept prisoner in some hovel miles from anywhere. If that wasn’t part of the plot to get my farm away from me then what was it; answer me that?’

‘I can only say it was none of my doing. Catherine, I love you.’

‘Then you have a very funny way of showing it,’ Catherine said abruptly. The last thing she needed now was for Boyo to talk to her of love. She was so confused, so angry, she could hardly think straight. She turned away and he caught her arm.

‘Listen, I know my wife has been acting strangely, she’s not herself lately. I know she has made a foolish accusation against your cousin but I’m trying to put things right. I was on my way to the police station to say that the damn pin has been found, the police will drop the charges against your cousin.’

She looked back at him. ‘You found the pin?’

‘No, I didn’t find the pin, I don’t believe it was lost in the first place. Catherine—’ He made a move to take her in his arms but she waved him away impatiently.

‘Get one thing into your head, it’s over between us; all that you can do for me now is to go on your way to the police station and clear Liam’s name,’ she moved away from him, ‘and leave me in peace.’

She was hurrying along the road then, her skirts flying, her eyes filled with tears. She still loved him, she knew she was a fool to even think of him that way and yet the blood had sung in her veins as she had stood close enough to touch him.

Suddenly, the comfort of her life at the store, the pleasant acceptance of the changes that had taken place in her life vanished and she saw herself as she really was, penniless, unloved and alone.

‘I’m afraid my husband was mistaken, Sergeant Meadows, I am sorry you have found it necessary to make a trip all the way out here.’ Bethan smiled and the policeman took her hand and deftly palmed the money she held out to him.

‘No trouble at all, Mrs Hopkins. In any event, I thought it wise to wait for your word on the matter before I called off the search for the rogue.’

‘Very wise, I appreciate that.’ Bethan smiled. ‘I will make sure I mention your vigilance to your superiors.’

She nodded to the young maid who bobbed a curtsey and opened the double doors of the sitting-room before leading the policeman into the hall.

Bethan rose to her feet, her face twisting into a sneer; so Boyo had thought to spoil her plans, had he? Well, he would have to be much cleverer than that if he wanted to outwit her.

She moved to the window and looked out at the grim rocks, hovering like a threat above the house. Why had she come here to this strangely haunted place? Why did she stay? She longed to pack up her bags and leave; she almost did leave but her father had fallen sick. Quite suddenly, he had turned from an intelligent, able man into an invalid, confined to his bed. Bethan found herself more and more irritated by his querulous demands but he was her father and he would be leaving her a considerable fortune. When he died she would be among the richest women in the country. The thought gave her a tremendous sense of power. Money bought you anything you wanted. Anything. Her heart dipped in pain, it would not buy her husband back. She pushed the thought away. How long would her father linger? Would he become more and more of a burden to her as each day passed?

She pushed the uneasy thoughts away and turned to matters of more immediate importance. Her plans for revenge on Mr Liam Cullen were well underway, she had men out in Ireland at this moment, making for the farm near Cork. There they would begin work, poisoning the crops on the Cullen lands. Slowly she would destroy Liam Cullen, take from him all that he owned. He had dared to threaten her, so now he must suffer the same fate as his precious cousin.

Bethan’s fist clenched, she could picture Catherine’s face, pale, delicate, surrounded with a cloud of lovely hair. The girl was everything Bethan was not, seductive, small of stature, the sort of woman who could stir the blood of any man.

She forced herself to relax and stretched her fingers wide to relieve the ache that had begun in them. She was getting pain in her bones lately, it was this house, damp and unwelcoming and yet, she was beginning to feel she could not leave here. It was hers, it was part of her; perhaps she had always been meant to live here, alone, a dried-up spinster.

‘Damn!’ She thumped her fist on one of the occasional tables, spilling a vase of flowers. She watched the blooms fall to the carpet and rivulets of water pour along the polished surface and down the ornate legs of the furniture, and suddenly she smiled.

She rose from her chair and called cheerfully for Cara to clear up the mess. ‘I’ve had a little accident,’ she said easily, ‘but no real harm done, I think.’

She swept from the room and up the stairs to the bedrooms. Here she could talk to herself in peace and here, sometimes, she felt sure voices answered her.

In the master bedroom, the one she should be sharing with her husband, she settled herself on the bed and crossed her arms over her body, as though such an act could prevent her from feeling alone.

‘I’m content,’ she said softly; ‘my revenge has begun, I’ve torn that woman away from my husband’s arms, caused a breach that they will never mend. And what’s more, Honey’s Farm is mine, all mine, to dispose of as I wish. Catherine O’Conner, you will rue the day you crossed Bethan Hopkins. Gloat while you may, your troubles are just beginning.’

‘I’ll do what I can, sir,’ Constable Danby frowned over his notes while behind him, his mother, her great shelf of a bosom shaking with laughter, poured hot, fragrant tea into dainty china cups.

‘I’m grateful to you.’ Liam leaned back in his chair, relaxing a little now that the purpose of his visit had been achieved. His case had been considered calmly and coldly. He had brought his solicitor with him and Seamus was imposing in his dark suit and crisp high collar.

‘
Duw
, anyone with half an eye can see the young gent wouldn’t need to steal anything.’ Mrs Danby lowered her great bulk into a chair. ‘Good clothes, shoes polished to an inch of their life. Oh, no, Mr Cullen is no thief, you can take that from me, Jerry Danby, I’ve got a nose for these things.’ To emphasize the point, she tapped her nose, a small button of a nose for such a large face and winked meaningfully at Liam.

‘Aye, feelings are all right, Ma, it’s proof that is needed in cases like this.’ Jerry Danby spoke dryly and his mother shrugged and shook her head.

‘Well, didn’t her old man come in the station and say there had been a mistake and he should know.’

‘Yes, Ma but then Mrs Hopkins came back to tell us the pin was still missing.’ He looked at Liam, ‘I think it might be better if you came with me to the station. I’m not arresting you, see, just giving good advice.’

‘What then?’ Liam knew the constable was right, running away had been a mistake, one he must do his best to correct.

‘Then you may have to be detained, perhaps until a judge can try to sort it all out.’

‘I don’t think so,’ Seamus said slowly. ‘With lack of even one shred of evidence there would be no reason to hold my client. Indeed, I’m surprised he was accused in the first place on so flimsy a story. Still,’ he turned to Liam, ‘it would be better if you went into the station voluntarily.’

Liam nodded. ‘Sure an’ I know you are right.’