Authors: Iris Gower
He was suddenly facing the full glare of the anger in her eyes. ‘Where were you when I needed you? My father was sick, dying and you were too busy with your own affairs to care.’
‘But Catherine, I had to be with Bethan. The baby, she lost it, you must know that.’
‘I didn’t know anything except what titbits of information came to me through casual gossip in the market-place.’ She shook her head and the red hair flew across her pale face. ‘Please, this is pointless, can’t you just go, leave me alone, I’ve been hurt enough.’
He was suddenly angry, angry with the pain of rejection. He stared down at her. ‘And I suppose Liam was here, holding your hand, comforting you; got his feet well and truly under the table, hasn’t he?’
Catherine was raking him with her eyes again. ‘Yes, he was wonderful, he helped me in every way he could, he even shaved and washed my father when he was too weak to do anything for himself. Liam is a good man, a caring man, the sort a woman needs in a crisis.’
‘And I am not?’ Pain made Boyo’s voice harsh. She met his gaze and held it.
‘Tomorrow I sail for Ireland, the arrangements have been made. I shall be seeing Liam again and I shall be visiting my mother but then you wouldn’t know that my mother has left here, would you? You come along now and expect me to be sweet and kind to you and yet you have shown me nothing but indifference these past months.’
‘I called and was turned away,’ Boyo protested. ‘You are not being fair, Catherine.’
‘You were not very persistent in your efforts to see me, were you?’ Her voice was small, distant. She rose to her feet. ‘Perhaps you will oblige me by leaving my house, I have work to do.’
He moved towards her with a sudden surge of anger and clasped her in his arms, kissing her mouth, her throat, touching the swell of her sweet breasts, straining the soft cotton of her blouse. Desire flared in him, replacing his anger, his fingers sought her buttons and, though he half-recognized her puny efforts at resistance, he could not stop himself. He had her against the rag mat on the floor, blood pounded inside his head, he tasted her nipples and failed to feel the blows she aimed at his face with her small fists. He was caught up in his passion, taking her roughly, pounding at her, grasping her slim hips in his hands, holding her closer. How he loved her, how he wanted her to be his for ever. Why did she fail to understand that?
She would respond to him, once she felt the need that both shared, her passion would grow and she would want him as he wanted her. She was quiescent and he was jubilant, she no longer resisted him. He kissed her throat, her breasts, tasting her sweetness with such hunger that he felt he would never find release. And then, at last, the hot surging flames of his release swept sweetly through his blood. He felt as though he had touched the golden gates of heaven and then he was lying beside her still body, gasping for breath.
He became aware then that she was crying, soft, bitter tears that racked her. He sat up and looked at her, she had covered her face with her hands, her skirts were above her waist, the pale skin of her thighs and belly were exposed and the dark colour of bruising was becoming evident. Shame engulfed him, he had raped her, raped the only woman he could ever love. Had he gone mad?
He covered her with her skirts and made a move to cradle her in his arms. She looked up at him, her eyes dark, unfathomable.
‘Get out of my house, Boyo Hopkins.’ She spoke quietly, so quietly he hardly heard her. ‘Get out now.’ She pushed him away and rose to her feet; she was tiny and defenceless and he was appalled by his own behaviour.
‘Catherine, my love …’
‘Stop!’ Her face was a mask of anger. ‘Love? You don’t know the meaning of the word. If ever you wanted to prove that you felt only lust for me then you have done just that today. I hate you, Boyo Hopkins, I hate you and worse, I despise you. A man who needs to force a woman is no sort of man at all, you are pathetic.’
Ashamed, he straightened his clothing. ‘Catherine, I don’t know what happened to me, I never meant to hurt you, God knows I…’
‘You dare mention God after what you have done? May God forgive you because I never will.’ She turned her back on him and her shoulders shook. He felt sick as he realized how deeply she was distressed.
‘I thought you would want me as I wanted you.’ It sounded lame and he knew it. He had taken her, uncaring of her feelings, at least he could be honest with himself if not with her.
‘Get out!’
He shook his head and moved towards her. As he touched her shoulders she shrugged him away. ‘What? Do you want to rape me again, Boyo? Have your pound of flesh? Is this the repayment you require for the gifts you have given me?’
She turned to face him. ‘I will be away from here tomorrow and when I do return there will be a gun kept loaded by my side and I will use it, believe me.’
‘I’m sorry, Catherine, more sorry than I can ever tell you, I behaved like an animal, I don’t blame you for hating me.’
‘I don’t care about your feelings, can’t you get that through your thick skull? Go to hell!’ She pushed at him suddenly and unresisting, he left the cottage. The door closed heavily and there was the sound of locks being put in place.
He walked towards the fields and sat for a long time on the stile staring out across the land and down to the sea. What had he come to? Were there any further depths to which he might sink? He was a young, strong man and he had taken, no, he had raped, a helpless girl who had no strength to fight him.
He covered his face with his hands, seeing again in his mind’s eye her slim nakedness and the blue of the bruises he had inflicted with his rough passion. He had wanted her so much, wanted all of her, not just her body and now he had alienated her for ever.
He glanced back at the farmhouse, it stood silent, the windows blank like accusing eyes. He shook his head, there was no point in going back, she had finished with him for good and he really couldn’t expect anything else; he had hurt her too badly for forgiveness.
Wearily, he made his way back to the house in Caswell; tormented by shame and guilt, he rode hard as if he could outrun his feelings.
Once back at Caswell, he sat staring out at the sea rushing into the shore below. The waves were white-capped, soon autumn would fade and the cold of winter would take hold of the land.
He suddenly remembered, the rotting harvest at Honey’s Farm and sat up straight. Catherine must be in trouble, with no money coming in for the corn, she would need help and all that had concerned him was his own needs. What a selfish bastard he was.
There was no way she would accept help from him, not now. He crashed his fist against the window-sill, what a fool he had been, what a crazy maddened fool.
It was a few days later when he was summoned by messenger to Bethan’s presence. He was angered by her arrogant attitude but he went to see her nevertheless.
She faced him coolly across the expanse of carpet in the blue drawing-room and when her glasses slipped along her nose he felt a sudden dart of nostalgia for what had been. He who had everything had lost it all. In the space of a few weeks he had alienated his wife and damaged his lover, what was happening to him?
‘It appears that there is something you must sign before I can close the deal on the inn.’ She spoke as though he was an employee not a husband. ‘Because I had included you in the profits from the business, you have, apparently, a legal right to read and agree the sale documents.’
‘I don’t wish to read anything and of course I’ll sign, the business is yours, I’ve never claimed anything else.’
‘No,’ she conceded. She handed him the document and he signed it. She placed it on the table beside her and turned to look at him. ‘One more thing, I feel as this is your house I should return it to you.’ She handed him an envelope. ‘Here are the deeds. I shall be moving back with my father at Ty Craig and you can live here or dispose of the house as you see fit.’
‘There is really no need for this.’ He felt almost intimidated by his wife’s cool attitude, but then Bethan had always been an imposing woman, strong and self-sufficient, that was what had attracted him to her. ‘Keep the house if you wish.’
‘No,’ she shook her head, ‘it was useful when I needed to keep an eye on the inn but now that I am disposing of that, I don’t need to live this far out of town.’ She eyed him almost smiling. ‘How is your little mistress?’
He looked at her sharply. ‘She is not my mistress, not any longer.’
‘Tut, tut, losing your charms so soon? Has she made so much money herself that she doesn’t need yours?’
‘She did not take the money I settled on her when her father was sick. She will not take it now when she must be facing ruin with the failure of the harvest.’
‘So, the harvest of corn is lost, is that critical then?’ She half smiled.
‘Of course, a farmer needs new seed for the crops that must be planted soon; without income there is not much hope of that.’
‘Assets? Surely the girl has something she can sell, cattle or land or something?’
He wondered why Bethan was concerned, women were strange creatures, he would never understand them. He shrugged. ‘The only thing she could dispose of that has any real value would be the bull. She needs the other beasts to make any sort of living, the milk yield is a good source of revenue.’
‘But not good enough without the harvest of corn, is that it?’
Boyo rose to his feet. ‘I don’t know why you are asking me all these questions about Catherine,’ he said uneasily. ‘I don’t really see what it has to do with you one way or another.’
Bethan rose and faced him. ‘Well, you never did see further than the end of your nose, did you? You need to grow up a great deal yet before you can call yourself a man of the. world.’
‘I was a man of the world before most men are aware that women exist,’ he retorted angrily.
‘Oh, yes, in matters physical I don’t doubt it. What you have not yet realized is that a woman has a brain too, it would pay you to remember that.’
He stared at her, wondering for a moment if she knew about the way he had violated Catherine, grasping at her like a greedy child. But no, that was ridiculous, that was something she could not possibly know.
‘That’s all, I think.’ Bethan moved towards the door. ‘I shall be moving out some time next week, I hope that suits you.’ She might have been a stranger conducting a business arrangement for all the warmth she showed.
‘It does not affect me one way or another,’ he said. ‘I don’t really know why you wanted me here, unless it was to torment me.’
‘Don’t be melodramatic, I got you here to conclude a business deal, that is all. You may go now.’
He left the house feeling somehow that he had been manipulated into answering questions that were important to Bethan. But why would she care about Catherine? He was becoming over-sensitive, a feeling brought about by shame and guilt, perhaps. He turned away from the house and made for home.
Ireland was as beautiful as her father had told her it would be. Catherine clung onto the sides of the cart that bumped and lurched over the uneven ground and looked around her at the fields, lush and green in the autumn rain.
Liam had been delighted that she was coming to Ireland and had arranged to meet her at the port of Cork. He sat beside her now, his red hair blowing in the breeze as he drove her towards Kinsale, the small seaside village where he lived.
‘You are looking a little pale, Catherine.’ Liam broke the silence, the lilting of his voice was somehow comforting, reminding her of her father.
‘I am worried about the farm, Liam, that’s the reason I’ve come to you. And I want to see my mother, of course.’ She looked up at him, his eyes met hers and she read love in them and was briefly cheered.
‘I wasn’t going to throw my woes at you suddenly like this but I might as well get it over with and tell you the worst. The harvest has failed, I’ve laid off the labourers, I’m losing money at an alarming rate and I don’t know what to do.’
‘You did right to come to me, colleen.’ He spoke softly. ‘My own farm is doing so well, I can afford to put some capital into yours, help it along until times are better.’
‘No, that’s not what I want at all,’ Catherine said quickly. ‘I want advice. I thought I might sell the bull, that seems the best way of raising capital quickly, but on the other hand, he fetches a lot of money at stud.’
Liam glanced down at her again, as though to reassure himself she was actually sitting there, at his side. ‘I don’t see why you can’t accept some financial help from me, we could make it a business venture, I would willingly act as your partner.’
‘No,’ Catherine shook her head. ‘I would feel beholden to you, but I appreciate your offer.’ She drew a ragged breath, Liam was offering an easy way out of her dilemma but what would the implications be?
‘Well, if you won’t let me help, then I suppose you must sell the bull. The big creature is your most disposable asset, sure enough.’
He swung closer to her as the cart swayed and, for a moment, Catherine was tempted to rest her head on his shoulder. He was so big, so reassuring, such a handsome man.
‘Who’s caring for the beasts while you are over here in Ireland, Catherine?’
‘Cliff, my neighbour, and his sons. They will see to the hens and the cows but I can’t be away long.’ She looked down at her hands, thinking of the beaten land, the ruined crop, the empty barns and she felt a sense of despair.
‘Your mother’s looking forward to your visit.’ Liam’s voice was light, he was changing the subject deliberately. ‘She’s happy at the convent, she seems to have found peace there with the sisters.’ He looked out into the distance. ‘Folks don’t believe in dying of a broken heart but I think your mam was until she came here.’
‘Dying?’ Catherine was alarmed, all the problems of the farm faded into insignificance at the prospect of losing her mother.
Liam put his hand over hers for a moment. ‘Don’t take on, she’s looking fine. I would not lie to you, now would I?’
Catherine’s mouth was dry, she had been so wrapped up in her own problems that she had not thought about her mother very much in the past weeks. She looked up at Liam and, sensing her look, he smiled.