The Wild Seed (45 page)

On an impulse, Catherine moved towards her, awkwardly, she took Patricia in her arms and cradled her. ‘There, there, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so cruel.’

Patricia clung to her like a lost soul. ‘I’m so unhappy, Catherine, so unhappy.’ She gulped. ‘You’re right, I am spiteful. ’Tis because I’m jealous of you. I’m plain, no man fancies me and you are so beautiful with your red hair and your pale skin, sure, can you wonder that I am nasty to you?’

‘Hush, don’t cry, everything is going to be all right, you’ll see.’

Patricia rubbed at her eyes. ‘You keep hinting at something, Catherine, what is it? By the name of our Virgin, put me out of my misery.’

Catherine knew that she should first tell Liam of her decision not to marry him face to face and yet she found it difficult to resist the entreaty in Patricia’s reddened eyes.

‘I’ll be leaving Ireland soon and I won’t be coming back.’

‘You mean you are not going to …’ Patricia’s words trailed away as Catherine put her finger to her lips.

‘Hush, now, I will talk to Liam, later. For now, let’s see what we can cook for his supper, he’ll be starving by the time he comes in.’

It was less than an hour later when Liam came into the kitchen, his face weary, his hair ruffled by the cold wind that had blown up. Catherine looked up with a dart of pity and pain, this was how her father had looked when the work on the farm drained the strength from him.

‘Go and wash,’ she said softly, ‘your meal is almost ready.’

He bent and kissed her nose and she smelt the sweat on him, mingled with the heady scent of ripe corn. ‘So, bossing me about already is it?’ He laughed and the lines of weariness eased from his eyes. ‘Not even married and you got a ring through my nose right enough.’

Patricia emerged from the shadows against the wall and Catherine froze when she saw the expression on the other girl’s face. She knew at once what Patricia intended to do.

‘She’ll never marry you,’ Patricia said harshly. ‘She’s going home to Wales, crossing the Irish Sea for ever, go on, ask her if it isn’t the truth.’

‘Patricia!’ Catherine could not believe that this harpy was the same woman she had cradled and comforted a short time earlier. She was turning and rending Catherine, cruelly forcing the truth on her brother with thoughts only of revenge, uncaring that she was hurting him with her words.

‘Liam, I wanted to talk to you sensibly, we should discuss this thing calmly and carefully, I don’t want anyone hurt.’

‘Is it the truth?’ He looked at her, his eyes hot and angry. ‘Come on, Catherine, you’ve told my sister and God knows who else, had you not better tell me, the man who you are supposed to marry?’

She could see there was no point in denying it. She lifted her head high and stared into his eyes. ‘I can’t marry you, Liam, I don’t love you. It would not be fair to either of us, you must see that.’

‘I see only a fickle woman, a woman I thought I loved.’ He turned and strode out of the kitchen, slamming the door shut behind him.

‘Are you pleased with what you have done?’ Catherine stared at Patricia, more in sadness than in anger. ‘You have hurt Liam and you have betrayed my trust in you. I doubt that any of it will bring you happiness, you don’t deserve to be happy, do you?’

Patricia’s smile was triumphant. ‘You are a fool, Catherine, you put your silly feelings for a married man before your own interests. You could have been happy here with Liam, he is a fine man, he could have given you strong sons to carry on working the land. Now he will turn to a local girl, a respectable girl who has kept her virginity for her husband.’

‘I don’t think you have any right to cast the first stone, do you, Patricia?’ Catherine stared at her dispassionately. ‘You grasped at a man, any man, anxious to lose that precious virginity you talk of before it was too late. Well, you have taught me a harsh lesson today: not to trust anyone, anyone at all.’

She moved towards the stairs and paused. ‘I shall be leaving first thing in the morning.’ She smiled. ‘Have you thought that my replacement might not want a bitch like you under her roof? Where will you be then, Patricia?’

She hurried up the stairs into the room, the darkness streaked with moonlight. Ireland was a beautiful place, a lovely place, but it was not home. Suddenly her heart lifted, she was doing the right thing, she was going back to Wales, to carve out her own destiny instead of following wherever the winds of fate took her.

‘I can’t understand it,’ Hari was looking down at her books. ‘Sales figures are down, we are sinking back into debt and I don’t know why.’

‘There are bound to be fluctuations, my love,’ Craig said lazily, folding
The Swansea Times
so that he could read it more comfortably.

‘I know, but this drop in income has continued for some weeks now, I don’t like it. It is almost as though someone was working against us, driving our customers elsewhere. I only hope the Llewellyn Company arranges to collect the stock they ordered before too long, we need the money badly.’

Craig sat up straighter. ‘Are you serious, Hari?’

‘How are sales of the leather doing? Are they buoyant?’ Hari said in reply.

Craig shook his head. ‘No, as a matter of fact I have a large stock on my hands. I have cancelled an order for more calf, there is plenty in stock to see us through a few more months but this sort of thing has happened before.’

‘Not on this scale,’ Hari said. ‘I have this feeling in my gut that we are being undermined and I have a fair idea who is doing it.’ She paused, ‘It has to be Bethan Hopkins.’

‘I don’t know how,’ Craig sounded doubtful, ‘it seems a bit far-fetched to me, why should she bother herself about us? I hear she’s dripping with money.’

‘You didn’t see her face when I refused to get rid of Catherine O’Conner.’ Hari bit her lip. ‘I knew the woman was dangerous, she forced the sale of Honey’s Farm, took Catherine’s home away from her; she is not only a ruthless woman but a little deranged too, if you ask me.’

‘I can understand the woman buying the farm,’ Craig said reasonably. ‘It went for a very good price and it’s prime land for building on. That’s what’s taking off right now, houses, property, somewhere near the sea. And you must admit that Honey’s Farm has all that.’

‘I know but then the land is over to the east of the town, it’s not where the rich want to live, is it?’

‘No, but haven’t you heard that houses are going to be built there for the workers, the rent will be cheap and the slums of the town can be cleared away. I expect Mrs Hopkins got wind of the scheme and got her bid in early for the land. A shrewd move, I wish I’d thought of it.’ He paused thoughtfully. ‘If business doesn’t pick up in a few weeks’ time then I’ll seriously consider what you’ve said. Until then, Hari, let’s just get on with our lives, shall we?’

He sounded a little impatient. Hari took a deep breath, it was pointless to say anything more at this stage, Craig, being a man couldn’t believe a woman could be so devious, so vengeful.

‘By the way, where is that young girl, Catherine, isn’t it? I haven’t seen her around lately,’ Craig said cheerfully steering the subject away from business matters.

‘She went to Ireland to see her mother, she’s coming back to work tomorrow.’

‘She’s a pretty little thing.’ Craig looked at his wife with a gleam in his eye. ‘But not half as lovely as my own little woman.’

‘Your wife, if you don’t mind.’ Hari tried to respond lightly but she was worried about the business, more worried than she should be at this stage. So sales were down, it was nothing crucial and yet she had the strangest feeling that things could only get worse.

‘Thank goodness you’re back.’ Doreen looked up from her chair with a smile as Catherine entered the kitchen and dumped her bag on the table. ‘It’s been like the grave by ’ere without you.’

‘I’m sure!’ Catherine hugged Doreen tightly. ‘Don’t tell me you haven’t had Jerry Danby round here every night keeping you company.’

Doreen drew away frowning. ‘We’ve had to be careful, mind, can’t have Meadows finding out what’s going on. Now you are back Jerry can call any time he likes.’

‘I see!’ Catherine placed her hands on her hips. ‘That’s why you’re so glad to see me home again, is it?’

‘Pipe down, for Gawd’s sake, and get a cup of tea inside you, just made a fresh pot. I got a pie baked for you and some crusty bread, as well. Should have been making hats, mind, and if that’s not a welcome then I don’t know what is.’

With a sigh of contentment, Catherine sat at the table, the tea was hot and sweet, the aroma of the bread rose invitingly. ‘It’s good to be back.’

Doreen was looking at her quizzically. ‘No ring, I see, is it all over then?’

‘It’s all off. I’ve told Liam I can’t marry him.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Sure as I’ll ever be about anything.’ Catherine took a gulp of her tea.

‘In other words, you are not sure at all?’

‘I know I don’t love Liam the way a woman should love the man she means to marry.’

‘But you can’t settle for being a fancy piece to that Boyo Hopkins, Cath, you are too good for that. Anyway, it seems sure now that he’s gone back to his wife.’

‘It’s only gossip, though, isn’t it? Boyo is kind, he would not turn his back on his responsibilities, I know that. It doesn’t mean he is living with her again.’

‘Sorry to tell you this, love,’ Doreen said, ‘but talk is, she’s fallen for a baby again. I can’t believe it but there, nature is a funny thing.’

Catherine rubbed at her eyes, suddenly weary. Pain and shock ebbed and flowed like a tide through her veins and it took all her control not to rant and rave and cry that Boyo was hers, he would not go back to his wife, he would not go to her bed, she would not believe it.

‘You’ll get over him, love, you know you will.’

‘Perhaps I will. All I know right now is that I can’t marry Liam and go to live in Ireland.’ Catherine’s voice was hoarse.

‘Well, you’re young yet, there’s time enough for you to meet some nice boy.’ Doreen spoke comfortingly. ‘I made the mistake myself of rushing into marriage, I thought Meadows was the cat’s whiskers but I soon found out that the old bastard had claws.’ Doreen smiled. ‘Still, I’m happy enough now. Come on, eat your supper while it’s hot. I can fill you in on all the gossip later.’

Catherine made a pretence of eating, her mind was numbed, her journey had been more tiring than she realized. Soon, she would fall into bed and sleep and try for a few hours to forget how unhappy she was.

As the days passed, Catherine settled into the routine of the emporium working in the millinery department with Doreen and soon it was as if the few days she’d spent in Ireland had never been. She tried to erase from her memory the sight of Liam’s face, white, drawn with pain, telling herself it would never have worked, such a marriage could only fail in the end.

She was becoming adept at fashioning the headgear for the smart ladies of the town, adding touches of ostrich feather set at unusual angles, tying a length of chiffon around the brim, making each design a little different from the last.

In Catherine’s absence, a larger room to the side of the house had been designated the millinery room where she and Doreen could work in comfort. A large window faced the sea and Doreen had placed a fine array of millinery on blocks that could readily be seen by the public.

There was plenty of work, indeed, the millinery department seemed to be doing more trade than the shoe shop. There, the stock grew dusty, standing on shelves far too long, even the sale of leather gloves was down, with only the fine cotton and velvet gloves selling at all.

‘Things are getting bad, by here, you know, Cath.’ Doreen was sitting before a block, shaping a piece of felt with energetic fingers, ‘I don’t like it, don’t like it at all, I think someone is out to ruin Mrs Grenfell.’

Catherine was suddenly cold. ‘Why, what makes you think that?’

‘I got eyes in my head, love. The leather goods are getting out of fashion, shoe styles are changing and we still have all our last season’s stuff. Aye, there’s something going on, I can smell it.’ She tapped her nose. ‘I got a smell for dirty tricks and there’s one going on here all right.’

Catherine studied her friend in silence. ‘You know I had a bad feeling about this Llewellyn Company, could they be letting Mrs Grenfell down do you think?’

‘I don’t know. More competition could have sprung up from somewhere, I suppose. Anyway up, if things don’t get better round here, some of the girls will soon be out of work, you mark my words.’

Catherine wondered briefly if Bethan Hopkins could somehow be influencing the leather market and yet it seemed such a far-fetched idea. Bethan was a vindictive woman, an evil woman but surely she was not that powerful or that vindictive that she would turn against Mrs Grenfell just because she was giving Catherine employment?

‘Excuse me a minute, Doreen, I need to talk to Mrs Grenfell, I won’t be long.’

Doreen looked at her questioningly but Catherine hurried from the room afraid that her courage would fail her, that she might seem foolish and hysterical.

Hari Grenfell was standing in the doorway of the main part of the emporium, Catherine could see her slender figure silhouetted against the sunshine. There were no customers, the girls stood about indecisively and Catherine realized that something was indeed very wrong.

‘Mrs Grenfell,’ she heard her voice tremble a little but she plunged on. ‘I think I know who is behind all this.’

As Hari Grenfell turned to her, Catherine indicated the silent shop floor. ‘I think it’s Mrs Hopkins, she hates me and she seems to hate anyone who helps me in any way. I know it sounds absurd saying it like that but I …’ her words trailed away as Hari nodded.

‘I think you are right, Catherine, it is a conclusion I have been forced to come to myself.’ She held out a letter. ‘The Llewellyn Company ordered a great deal of stock, the order has now been cancelled.’ She smiled wryly. ‘I have just learnt, a bit late in the day, that Bethan Hopkins’s maiden name was Llewellyn and she is listed at me head of the directors of the so-called Llewellyn Company.’

‘I knew there was something suspicious about that company,’ Catherine said. ‘The trouble was, it was just a feeling, there was no sense to it.’