Authors: Iris Gower
He put his head on the pillow and closed his eyes, knowing he could not sacrifice Bethan’s peace of mind for his own. What he had done, was doing, was wrong, but he could no more stop it than he could turn back the tide in Swansea Bay.
Catherine awoke to feel the sun slanting across her face. She lifted her head and saw the curtains lift gently in the breeze. Outside, the birds were singing, it seemed that even nature was conspiring to enhance the happiness that was sweeping through her.
She turned over on her side, her hand beneath her cheek, the heavy weight of her braided hair fell across her neck like a lover’s caress. Excitement flared through her, she, Catherine O’Conner, had a lover.
From the kitchen she heard the muted sounds of morning; the ashes being riddled in the fireplace, the chink of crockery, and realized that she had overslept. She smiled softly, it was just like her parents to allow her to lie in bed until she chose to rise.
That they indulged their only child was a fact of which Catherine was well aware. A great deal of her mother’s protectiveness and her father’s gentle kindness stemmed from fear, for they had lost their sons at an early age. April too; beautiful April, tragic April. Catherine pushed the thought away, she did not want to think about April, not now when she was so happy. Light steps approached her room and her mother peered around the door. ‘Awake then? About time, too,
cariad
.’
Catherine sat up and stretched her arms, closing her eyes against the bright sunlight and the feeling of happiness that rose within her.
‘Come on, I can’t hold this hot tea by here for ever, I’ve got the breakfast to cook.’
‘Right, Mam, I’ll take the tea, I could do with it, I’m parched.’
‘You’re looking very pleased with yourself this morning.’ Her mother handed her the cup. ‘Were you out with a boy last night by any chance?’
Catherine bent her face over the steaming tea. ‘Don’t be soft, Mam. Just because you and Dad are so much in love you think everyone wants to be the same as you.’
‘And don’t they?’ Fon O’Conner was still a very beautiful woman. Her hair swept away from her face, revealed fine cheek-bones and a clear, direct gaze that was sometimes disconcerting.
She sat on the thick patchwork quilt. ‘Don’t be in too much of a hurry, love, there’s plenty of fish in the sea, mind.’
‘Please, Mam,’ Catherine said softly. ‘It’s all so new, I don’t want to spoil anything by talking about it.’
‘Fair enough, I should have expected this sooner but your dad and I have plans for you, you must know that, love?’
‘I have to live my own life, Mam, and if I am going out with a boy, you will just have to trust me, won’t you?’
‘I do, but he
is
a good boy, a respectable boy, isn’t he? I mean he wouldn’t … do anything wrong, would he?’
‘He’s very respectable, Mam, so don’t worry.’
Fon took her hand. ‘You see, love, some men take advantage, they are not all gentlemen, do you know what I mean? I would prefer you to go out with someone we know and approve of. We wouldn’t try to run your life but we do want to protect you from someone unscrupulous, out just for a bit of foolishness with the first girl who’s willing.’
‘I’m not a child, Mam. Anyway, he isn’t like that.’
‘Hasn’t he got a name?’
‘Mam, please!’
‘All right.’ Fon rose to her feet. ‘Get up soon, mind, I’ll have breakfast on the table in ten minutes.’
Catherine sighed with relief as her mother left her alone. Fon was too sharp for her own good. What would she think if she knew her daughter had lost her virginity to the man who had once been betrothed to her sister? Catherine bit her lip. Her mother would think she was second best, an echo of the past for Boyo, and was she?
She pictured Boyo’s face as he made love to her. There was passion, oh, yes, there was passion, flaring like a white-hot flame between them, but there was more, much more, she need never question that.
Downstairs, the appetizing smell of bacon filled the kitchen. Catherine kissed her father’s unshaven cheek and sat next to him at the table.
‘So you were out courting last night, darlin’ girl?’ Jamie leaned forward, his big arms brown beneath the rolled up shirtsleeves. Catherine looked at her mother who avoided her gaze.
‘Yes, Dad, and he is very respectable and no, he won’t take advantage of me; I’m a big girl now, mind.’
‘That’s what your dad is afraid of,’ Fon said drily. She placed a plate before her husband and Jamie took up his knife and fork.
‘These eggs look good, the new mash I’m giving the hens must be suiting them.’
Catherine sighed with relief, Jamie was not going to pursue the subject of her ‘courting’ as he called it. She looked down at her own plate, the bacon still sizzled hot from the pan and the eggs were done to perfection.
‘You girls coming into town with me today?’ Jamie asked, cutting into a slice of curling bacon.
‘Got work to do here, love,’ Fon said easily. ‘You go and take Catherine, buy her some pretty ribbons or something.’
‘Well?’ Jamie pulled at his daughter’s hair. ‘Going to keep your old dad company are you?’
‘I suppose I’d better, there’s no telling what trouble you’ll get into on your own.’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’ Jamie leaned back in his chair pretending to be indignant but there was laughter in his eyes.
‘You know what I mean. If I don’t come with you you’ll have all the women of Swansea aflutter with your Irish blarney.’
Fon smiled, ‘He’d better behave himself if he knows what’s good for him, I’m not the sort of woman to put up with any nonsense, mind.’
‘Sure an’ did I not speak only of going into town for supplies? No mention was made of roaming the bars and chasing women.’ Jamie rose to his feet. ‘I’ll be ready in about half an hour, if you are coming along to protect your dad, you’d best hurry up.’
Jamie left the kitchen and Fon began to gather the crockery together. ‘It will do you good, both of you,’ she said. ‘You don’t see enough of each other these days.’
‘But Mam, I work on the farm most days, I’m as good as a son any day, ask Dad.’
‘I know that,’ Fon took the tablecloth in both hands and carried it to the back door, shaking the crumbs onto the yard outside, ‘but Jamie’s down the fields and you’re in the hen-house or milking the beasts; you’re not exactly
together
, are you?’
She put the cloth away in the dresser drawer and turned to face her daughter. ‘Dad’s done the milking and I’ve fed the hens and there’s labourers enough for the lambing so make the most of it.’
‘Mam, this isn’t a conspiracy, is it?’ Catherine was suddenly suspicious. Fon avoided her gaze.
‘I don’t know what you are talking about. I want you to keep Dad company, that’s all, he hasn’t quite been himself lately.’
‘Mam, he’s not sick, is he?’
‘Hush girl, all this fuss just because your dad wants you to go to town with him, what next?’ Fon did not look at her and Catherine was suddenly afraid.
‘You would tell me, Mam, if something was wrong, I mean?’
‘Aye, I would tell you, if there was something to tell. Now get off out, will you and leave me to have some peace.’
Half an hour later, Catherine sat up in the front seat of the trap beside Jamie, watching his strong hands gently direct the horses over the uneven ground of the lane leading away from the farm. And yet, she could not help studying him covertly, looking for any sign that he was not in his usual robust health. He appeared relaxed, his skin was lightly tanned by the sun and weather, he looked just the same as he had always done. A little older, perhaps, with a few more lines around his eyes and mouth but that was only to be expected.
‘Sure it’s a lovely spring day, all right.’ Jamie sighed, lifting his face to the pale sun. ‘I love the spring with the new buds shaking the trees and the lambs leaping everywhere as though pleased to be alive. It’s a time of new beginnings, sure it is.’
Catherine thought so too but not in a way of which her father would approve. For her, life had blossomed since Boyo had come back into her life, she had freely given her virginity and in six short days she had fallen hopelessly in love.
Catherine was quiet, hugging her secret to her and Jamie seemed content with the silence as he easily lifted the reins to encourage the animals to go faster.
Over the crest of the hill, leading away from Honey’s Farm, the land fell away revealing the valley of huddled buildings and twisting streets and beyond the town perimeter, the wide shimmering band of sea stretched as far as the eye could see. It was a sight which never failed to take Catherine’s breath away.
‘Isn’t it beautiful, Dad?’ She leaned against her father’s broad shoulder, breathing in the salt of the breeze drifting in from the sea. He glanced down at her fondly.
‘Aye, but then so is Ireland, darlin’, it’s not called the Emerald Isle for nothing. And the water runs clear up golden sands and the hills are so lush and green. I’ll take you there one day, and then you can see for yourself.’
Catherine had Irish blood in her veins from her father’s side of the family but her mother was Welsh and Catherine had been born on the farm on the Welsh hillsides, she could imagine nothing as lovely as the scene before her anywhere else in the world.
Instead of driving to the store as he usually did, Jamie halted the horses outside the Grand Hotel, looping the reins around a post and clucking softly to the animals.
‘What are we doing here, Dad?’ Catherine looked down at her father as he held up his hands to lift her into the roadway. She noticed then, for the first time, that he was smartly dressed in a crisp linen shirt, good trousers, waistcoat and a jacket.
‘What’s all this about, what’s going on, Dad?’
‘All in good time, girl.’
Catherine hung back, suddenly suspicious. ‘What is going on, Dad?’ she repeated more forcefully.
‘It’s just a little surprise, nothing to get all agitated about. Would I do anything to hurt you?’
She followed him in silence through the double doors and into the lobby which smelled of polish that did not quite cover the stale smell of beer.
Catherine wrinkled her nose. ‘Dad, it’s much nicer out there in the sunshine, what do we have to come in here for? Not going to become a drinking man at your age, are you?’
‘Watch that tongue of yours, madam,’ Jamie said, ushering her through another set of doors and into a small back room.
As her eyes became accustomed to the gloom, Catherine saw that two men and a very old lady were seated in the corner on plush but uncomfortable-looking chairs.
‘Top of the mornin’ to you all.’ Jamie moved forward, hand extended and a babble of greetings rang in Catherine’s ears.
Then Jamie drew her forward. ‘This is my daughter, Catherine O’Conner, a good girl and born to the farm life.’ He ushered her into a seat and began to introduce his friends.
‘Three generations of Cullens, relatives from Ireland, you see before you Catherine. Maeve Cullen,’ Jamie paused and Catherine awkwardly took the gloved hand the old lady held towards her. ‘Brad Cullen and his son Liam.’ He said the last name as though he was a conjurer producing something precious out of a hat.
The two men murmured a greeting and Liam held onto her hand slightly longer than was necessary. She looked at him closely; he was a little older than she was and very handsome, a fine man and she might have taken more interest in him if Boyo had not burst into her life like a shaft of lightning.
Liam engaged her in polite conversation while the others talked quietly together. Catherine tried her best to listen to what was being said but the conversation was rapid, heavy with the Irish lilt and she found it difficult to follow.
Drinks were ordered and the morning wore on slowly for Catherine. She would have preferred to be outside in the sunshine, she did not want to sit in the gloom of a hotel with people she didn’t know.
‘Well, I think we’ve come to an amicable enough arrangement.’ Jamie was leaning back in his chair, a satisfied smile on his face. The three strangers were staring at her now, sizing her up, assessing her as though she was a prize heifer.
A strange prickling sensation raised the hair on the back of her neck. She sat up straighter in her chair, knowing, with sudden clarity, what this meeting was all about. Jamie, her father, the dear father who had loved and protected her all her life was trying to arrange a marriage for her with Liam Cullen. Jamie had no son, Liam Cullen, it seemed, would be a substitute, a man who could run the farm when Jamie was too old.
She must decide what to do. Should she make a scene and storm out of the hotel? The thought was tempting but Catherine was reluctant to embarrass her father. And yet she could not continue to sit there, allowing the Cullens to think that she was agreeable, that she would meekly marry a man she had never met until this morning.
She rose to her feet with sudden resolve. ‘If you will excuse me, Dad, I have things I must do in town.’ She nodded with dignity to the Cullens. ‘It was charming to meet you, may you have a pleasant journey home to Ireland.’
Before anyone could speak, Catherine was hurrying away from the table. She pushed through both sets of doors and once in the street began to run, before turning into a lane leading from the High Street into the Strand. She glanced back, fearful that her father had followed her but he was nowhere to be seen.
He would be angry, she didn’t doubt it for one moment, but once she was home, she would talk to him, reason with him, explain that she could not fall in love at will with any man he chose for her. This was the twentieth century and she was a modern girl with a will of her own. She would tell him about Boyo and he would just have to understand that what was between them was nothing to do with April, nothing to do with the past at all. Jamie would not approve of her becoming Boyo’s mistress but at least he would have to accept it.
She found herself entering into the bustle of Swansea market. At the gates women sat selling shellfish. Catherine paused for a moment to catch her breath. As she watched, one of the women dipped an oyster shell into one of the baskets and measured out a cupful of cockles, salted and ready to eat.