Sea Mistress (36 page)

He dressed carefully in his best clothes, normally kept neat for Sundays and then slicked down his hair with water from the jug on the marble table. The mirror hanging slightly askew on the wall showed a face that was filled with anticipation and Boyo attempted to wipe the smile from his face.

April was seated next to her sister when Boyo arrived at the church. She glanced over her shoulder a smile of welcome on her face. He sat beside her, warmed through and through by her nearness. Even the mass which was long and tedious passed all too quickly. When the priest declared that the social part of the evening was about to begin Boyo leaned towards April taking his courage in both hands.

‘Is it all right if I walk you home?' he asked diffidently. She bent her head low so that he couldn't see her face. ‘Cathie will be with us, mind,' she said.

‘I don't care about that,' Boyo said quickly, ‘though I would rather be alone with you, of course.' He wondered for a moment if he'd been too bold but April looked up at him, her smile radiant.

Under the cover of the folds of her spreading skirt, he took her hand and her fingers curled warmly in his. He felt the heat run through his body, he was ten foot tall, he could conquer whole worlds so long as he had April at his side.

Later, they walked home together in the cold darkness. Cathie, impatient, had raced up the hill ahead of them. There was a constriction in Boyo's throat but he had to speak. ‘Will you be my girl, April?'

She sighed softly, ‘Yes, Boyo.' The words were just loud enough for him to hear them.

They stood quite still for a long moment and from the distance came the sound of Cathie calling to them.

April smiled. ‘That's that then,' she said, boldly, ‘we're walking out together.'

The rest of the walk took on a dream-like quality, the sky was bright, even the cold wind singing in the bare branches of the trees seemed kinder. It was as if the world had taken on special brushstrokes of colour. This thing called love was a powerful emotion, just how powerful Boyo was only just beginning to find out.

Later, as he lay in his bed, he looked up at the pattern of light on the ceiling and pictured April's face. He went over every word, every expression in his mind. He could not sleep, he turned over in the bed and pulled the sheets up to his chin. He wondered what it was like in her house, where it was she slept, how she spent her days.

It was almost dawn before he closed his eyes and then it was to be plagued by erotic dreams that finally woke him only a few hours later. He felt tired and yet he looked forward to the day. He rose from bed and washed at the marble-topped table, finishing off the water in the jug.

He looked at his face in the mirror, he needed a shave, his beard was growing stronger, he was sure of it. It even looked in the early light as though he had a moustache. He was growing up, he had the urges of a man, urges that now needed to be contained. Later, as he walked out into the cold greyness of the yard, Boyo looked up at the sky and saw only April's shy smile and the soft gold of her eyelashes as she looked up at him and suddenly, it was a beautiful day.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Bridie waited in the hotel room in a fever of anxiety. She glanced out of the window not seeing the softness of the Irish skies above the huddle of picturesque streets or the simply furnished room where she waited. Her hands were damp with perspiration and she prayed she would have the strength to carry out the task she had come to Ireland to do.

Bridie felt, rather than saw her husband come into the room. She glanced round with difficulty, seated as she was in her chair and saw the glower of anger burnt into his features. For a moment she wished she had accepted Collins' offer to stay with her during the difficult interview to come. ‘So Paul, you've come to see me.'

‘For God's sake woman,' he said without preamble, ‘what have you done with my cargo?'

‘That would be telling, wouldn't it?' she spoke with forced lightness. ‘Now, let's get down to business.' She took out of her bag the thick, folded documents and held them out to him.

‘What tomfoolery is this?' He asked, slapping the documents from her hand. They fell to the floor and lay there like a silent rebuke. ‘Don't you know this is a matter of life and death, woman?'

‘You will pick those papers up and read them or you will never see your cargo again.' Her voice was no longer light but heavy with anger and an unexpected feeling of sorrow. ‘Oh, Paul, how low you have sunk.'

‘Don't moralize to me, woman.' He paced around until he stood before her. He leaned forward and spoke coldly, ‘Life with you had become intolerably boring, do you understand? At dinner parties I would look at you and do you know what I thought? How plain my wife had become, how
old
and I looked for something else.'

His words hit at her like stones, it was only the knowledge of Collins' devotion that prevented her from bursting into tears. ‘So you took a mistress.' The desire to strike back was strong within her. ‘One you could impress with your pathetic show of wealth,
my
wealth. You stole my inheritance, Paul, and I want it back, that's what those papers are all about. Read them, I think you will find that they have been properly drawn up by Ellie Hopkins' lawyer.'

‘So that bitch is in this too!' Paul said, looking down at Bridie with such hostility that she had to resist the temptation to shrink back in her chair. ‘I will not sign. I feel you have got all you deserved.'

‘How do you reckon that, Paul?' Bridie forced herself to speak sharply.

He thumped his hand onto the table. ‘You were cheating me, your husband, you were raking in the money from the deep sea loads and handing me the crumbs. Well, Miss High and Mighty, I outsmarted you and that is something you will just have to live with.'

‘Not if I sell your cargo myself,' Bridie's words, quietly spoken silenced him. ‘What would your
friends
think of that, the ones waiting for the cargo? I shouldn't think they would be very pleased.'

He bent over her chair, his eyes gleaming with anger. ‘Where is it?' he said threateningly and she forced herself to meet his gaze. ‘You won't intimidate me, Paul, so don't try, I have the upper hand this time.'

For a long moment, he looked as though he would take her by the throat and shake the truth from her and then, to her relief, he backed away. ‘Bridie,' his tone had changed, become a self-pitying whine that grated on Bridie's nerves. ‘They'll kill me if I don't deliver the load, don't you realize that Monkton is not a man to fool with.'

So the name of his contact was Monkton, that was something to hold on to, a piece of information which might be useful.

Paul turned to her pleadingly. ‘You can't let them harm me, I am the father of our sons, after all.'

She looked at him unable to keep the scorn from her voice. ‘Did you think of that when you took the boys away from me? And didn't it occur to you that you could go to prison if you were caught avoiding duty on the cargo of opium? What would our sons think of you if that happened?'

He thrust his hands into his pockets, putting on the hangdog, little-boy expression that once would have melted her heart. Now it had no effect.

‘Just sign those papers, Paul, and you'll have your load delivered to you here by Monday,' she said tiredly.

‘Monday, that's two days away!' His lips drew into a tight line. ‘You're bluffing,' he said, ‘where is the cargo, what ship have you used to bring the stuff over here to Ireland, not one of mine, I'll be bound?'

She forced down her anger at his words. ‘You forget Paul, I owned the bigger part of the fleet, it was I who built up the business. You forget too that my father was in shipping all his life, he had friends in the business, friends who were ships' owners and masters. Oh, I still have some power, believe me.' She was tired of all this beating around the bush. ‘Now, if you know what's good for you, Paul, read those documents and sign them, it's the only way to get yourself off the hook. If you are threatened by this man Monkton, I will not raise a hand to help you, believe me. One way or another, I'll get my inheritance back from you.'

Paul reluctantly picked up the documents and, sitting at the table in Bridie's hotel room, flattened the thick pages out before him, reading steadily. ‘You want everything,' he said at last, ‘you want the whole damn caboodle, you are not even leaving me my own ships.'

‘Why should I?' Bridie's voice was hard, ‘Isn't that exactly what you did to me? Left me without anything.'

‘And this,' Paul waved the last of the papers in the air, ‘absolving Ellie Hopkins of any responsibility, I won't do it, why should I help her?'

Bridie sighed. ‘Because she's innocent. Sign
all
the papers Paul or I have nothing more to say.'

‘What if I won't sign, what if I keep you here until you come to your senses?'

‘Keep me prisoner, you mean?' Bridie said, ‘I've only to ring the bell and one of the maids will come to see what I want.'

‘Ah, but you can't get to the bell and I'm certainly not going to ring it for you, I'm not that stupid.' He moved to the bed and sank against the pillows, hands behind his head. He stared at her with a smile curving his lips, the lips she had once kissed with passion, what a fool she had been.

Bridie rose from her chair in one movement and walked with studied calm to the door. With satisfaction, she saw that Paul was staring at her in disbelief. ‘Yes, I can walk again, I'm taking control of my life you see, Paul, and you do not feature in it, not one little bit.' Her hand was on the brass handle. ‘Collins is waiting outside, he's bigger than you are and much more of a man. He is on my side in a way that you have never been. Now, if you want to save your miserable skin, you'll sign those documents.'

Paul sat upright. ‘They are waiting for me,' he said desperately, ‘Monkton and his men, they want assurance that I'm going to deliver the load to them as expected, what am I to say?'

‘Tell them there was an unexpected delay, tell them what you like but first sign those papers or face the consequences.'

Paul seemed uncertain, he took up a pen from the table and stared down at the papers as though still not decided what course of action he should take. ‘Bridie, you can't leave me penniless,' he said looking at her desperately.

‘Why not?' She looked at his stooped shoulders, his downcast eyes and relented. ‘When this is over, providing you give up the smuggling, we'll come to a settlement, I'll see you are provided for which is generous of me in the circumstances.'

Quickly, as though afraid he would change his mind, Paul signed the documents. He flung down the pen with venom and turned, crashing his fist against the wall.

Immediately, the door opened and Collins stood on the threshold of the room, his big fists bunched, his eyes sharp as they rested on Paul.

‘Get out!' Paul said, ‘I'm talking to my wife, keep your place man, have you forgotten you are merely a servant?'

‘Correction,' Bridie said, ‘Collins is no longer a servant, he is now managing my affairs. Another thing, I ceased being your wife in anything but name a long time ago. Now you may leave us, Paul, give your colleagues the good news that they will shortly have their goods.'

Paul moved to the door and Collins stepped inside the room allowing him to exit.

‘Oh Paul,' Bridie said, ‘I've made a few enquiries about your little mistress, ruled by her strict mama, a lady to whom morality equates with riches. Well you are no longer rich, not by anyone's standards, so I should say goodbye to your little romance, I can't see it lasting very long, not now.'

When he had gone, Bridie sank down onto the bed, she was trembling. Her hands were shaking so badly that even when she clasped them together, they continued to tremble, she knew that her last barb had been unworthy of her, Paul was a beaten man.

Collins sat on the bed beside her, an unprecedented familiarity and put both his arms around her, holding her close. Bridie closed her eyes, breathing in his strength, his masculine scent and knowing in that moment she loved this man more than she had ever loved anyone. He had wanted her when she had nothing, when she was a penniless cripple, his love was good and honest, it was real love. ‘When this is all over,' she said, ‘we'll be together, Collins, somehow, we'll be together.'

He said nothing but his arms tightened imperceptibly around her. She knew he wanted to kiss her, she knew too that he dare not, he still held her far above him in station even though she had been destitute. It was Collins who had been the one to find employment, he who had brought in the money which had paid for their trip to Ireland. Was paying now for the hotel room where they sat. Jono was kindness itself but it had been a point of honour on Collins' part that he didn't live on another man's charity. Bridie loved him for it.

She sighed heavily and tipped her head up, so that their lips were almost touching. She heard Collins' indrawn breath and her heart sang. ‘Collins,' she said humbly, ‘will you kiss me?'

‘I'll have it here in two days time, you go and tell them that, Hewson.' Paul Marchant was looking down at him as if he was a piece of dog shit and Matthew didn't like it one little bit. He had not wanted to come on this last trip at all, he had watched Paul Marchant idling on deck with his Irish colleen with a bitter taste in his mouth. Above all, he had known in his bones that something was going wrong. Now, all he wanted was to get paid and to return home in safety. ‘I'm not going to see that shark Monkton alone,' he said, ‘not me, you can face the music yourself.'