Authors: Iris Gower
‘Now don’t you go worrying about me,’ Doreen said quickly. ‘I can get us a bite to eat, you stay in the shop and I’ll see to the food. So long as I don’t have to go out and face people I’ll be all right.’
As she walked to work, Catherine felt anger boiling up within her. She wished she’d been stronger, had used the poker on Meadows, he deserved to be hurt as he hurt others.
‘Catherine!’ She heard the familiar voice and stopped in her tracks, the colour leaving her face. ‘Catherine, wait, just talk to me, won’t you?’
Boyo was looking down at her, his eyes pleading but Catherine was in no mood to listen.
‘Can’t you take to be told?’ she said hotly. ‘I don’t want to speak to you, not now, not ever.’
‘Catherine, if only you knew how much I have longed for you. I must have been mad to think I could make a life with Bethan once I had you.’
‘Oh yes, you can say that now but when I needed you most you put your precious Bethan first, didn’t you? You hurt me, betrayed me and what I hate most of all, you turned your back on me. All for the sake of a bitter, vindictive woman who’d stop at nothing to destroy anyone who stood in her way.’
‘We have to talk. Will you just let me walk with you, Catherine, I’m trying my best to apologize. What I did was unforgivable, I know that, I’ve been a bastard. I apologize for it all but I can’t apologize for staying with my wife when she was so sick.’
‘My father was sick, too. I needed you so much then Boyo, I really needed you and you weren’t there for me.’
‘Try to understand that it has been bad for me, too,’ Boyo said urgently. ‘I had lost my child, I was not thinking straight.’
Catherine faced him angrily. ‘Don’t expect me to be sorry for you. Look, I have made my own way in life. It’s too late for us. I don’t need you, I don’t need anybody.’
‘Not even your dear cousin, Liam Cullen?’ Boyo was angry now, his hands clenched into fists as though he would strike somebody. ‘Your cousin can offer you a way out, a comfortable life and you’d settle for second-best just for a little bit of security.’
‘You are obviously as ill-informed about my cousin as you were about me and what my family were going through.’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘No, you don’t. Liam’s farm is ruined, his crops spoiled, his livestock poisoned. It appears that your precious Bethan is behind the destruction. Go on, say you didn’t know that.’
He stared at her in silence and Catherine turned abruptly and walked away from him. She was trembling, though whether it was with anger or the longing to be in Boyo’s arms she didn’t know. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She must forget Boyo Hopkins, forget he ever held her in his arms and made her sing with happiness.
The emporium was bustling with early-morning activity. Within the mellow walls, fires were springing to life in the ornate grates, floors were being swept and Catherine realized that she was late.
Hari Grenfell was in her office, she looked up when Catherine knocked on the open door and beckoned her inside.
‘It’s Doreen, Mrs Grenfell, she … she isn’t well this morning.’
Hari rose abruptly and strode across the room, closing the door firmly. ‘Her husband is up to his old tricks again is he?’
Catherine looked down at her shoes, dusty now from the long walk. ‘He’s a monster!’ The words were torn from her. ‘He beat Doreen and raped her and before he left, he took all our money.’ She looked up at Hari, ‘We were saving for some new curtains and covers. Doreen wanted the place to look nice, it’s not much to ask of life is it?’
‘Sit down, Catherine, you look washed out.’ Hari’s voice was full of concern. ‘The man didn’t touch you, did he?’
Catherine sank into a chair. ‘He pushed me a little, nothing terrible, it’s what he did to Doreen that upset me.’ She swallowed hard. ‘You should see her face, Mrs Grenfell, her lip is cut, her eyes almost closed and bruises everywhere. How could the man be so cruel to a defenceless woman?’
Hari Grenfell drew open the desk. ‘Here’s some money,’ she said quietly, ‘I want you to go out now and buy some material, Doreen can at least occupy herself making those curtains she wanted so badly.’
Catherine looked at Hari doubtfully. ‘I don’t think Doreen would like to take charity, Mrs Grenfell, I know you mean it kindly but…’
‘It’s not charity, I assure you.’ Hari smiled. ‘Mrs Charles is being charged above the odds for the very special hat Doreen’s making for the wedding. This is only what Doreen has earned, a bonus for the work she put in, the long hours she spent here after time.’
Catherine smiled and took the money. ‘If you put it that way, how can Doreen refuse?’
‘Right, now off you go to the shops and take the rest of the day off. Help Doreen, she could do with it.’
Hari rose to her feet and Catherine knew that the interview was over. ‘I’ll send some work home for Doreen to do over the next week or two until she’s recovered.’ Hari opened the door and Catherine paused on the threshold.
‘I wish I could be more like you, Mrs Grenfell,’ she said earnestly.
Hari smiled and rested a hand on Catherine’s shoulder. ‘I think you are already, very much like me. Go on, now, I’ll see you tomorrow.’
The walk back into town was accomplished with comparative ease, it was mostly downhill with the sea spread as a backdrop to the untidy town. Houses, pale in the morning light, spread over the floor of the valley, rising to encroach on the hills above the town.
Catherine felt suddenly elated, warmed by Mrs Grenfell’s act of kindness and by her faith in Catherine’s ability to make good. She would rise above the setbacks, Catherine decided, she would fight to make herself independent, needing no-one but herself to survive. She lifted her head high as a shaft of weak sunlight gleamed brightly on the rain-soaked pavement. Everything was going to be all right.
Amongst the dark hills, in a dark house overshadowed by huge grey rocks, Bethan Hopkins was beginning to put her plans into action.
The land beneath his feet was hard and dead, with little sign of recovery, and Liam felt tears burn in his eyes. He had returned across the Irish Sea with a mingling of happiness and anger burning inside him: happiness that he had once more taken Catherine into his arms and made her his and bitterness at what Hopkins had done to him and to his lands.
He sank down on his haunches and dug his fingers deep into the hardness of the soil, scraping skin from bone in his pain and anger. He ought to thrash Hopkins to within an inch of his life. Some part of Liam’s mind accepted that he was jealous of Boyo Hopkins, the man was young, strong and rich; why did he have to inflict devastation on good arable land? In a way it made little sense. And yet who else
could
be responsible?
‘Sure, it does no good to cry over spilt milk, my boy.’ The voice behind him startled him out of his reverie, he rose and faced his grandmother.
‘What are you doing out here in the fields, Gran?’ He thrust his bleeding hand into his pockets but Maeve’s eagle eye missed nothing.
‘Same as you. I’m wondering if the soil will come good again.’ She dug at the ground with the heel of her shoe.
‘It’ll come, given a few years.’
‘That’s what I thought.’ Maeve folded her arms across her high-necked bodice and stared out across the acres, her eyes shrewd.
‘By then we’ll be ruined.’ Liam’s voice was heavy.
‘I don’t think so.’ Maeve dipped into the pocket of her voluminous apron and took out a thick document. ‘This is for you, Liam.’
It was the last will and testament of Maeve Cullen and Liam, frowning, read through it quickly.
‘Gran, you are going to live for a long time yet.’
‘You bet I am!’ Maeve smiled. ‘Still, there’s nothing stopping me tearing that up and giving you what is yours a little before time, is there?’
‘But Gran, I never realized …’
‘Never realized I had other lands? A wise head keeps a still tongue, my boy. Anyway, those lands are for you.’
‘But what about Dad, and what about my sister? Sure she’ll go mad when she hears of this.’
‘I want the Cullen line to go on and it doesn’t look like your sister will ever get herself a man, let alone a child. In any case, any children she might have will not be Cullens. Patricia will be as mad as hell, as you say, but she’ll just have to put up with it.’ There was a gleam of laughter in her eyes.
‘As to your dad, he knows what I intend to do with my land and he approves.’
Liam smiled, it would be just the same if his father did not approve, Maeve was the sort of woman who had her own way. Unbidden came the thought that Catherine was cut from the same cloth as his grandmother.
‘Get yourself a good wife.’ Maeve might have been reading his thoughts. ‘Catherine O’Conner is a fine, spirited woman, be determined enough and you will win her.’
Liam smiled. ‘Are you a witch, Gran?’
She tapped her nose with her forefinger. ‘That’s for me to know and you to find out.’
Maeve talked in clichés, it was a habit of hers but she was as sharp, quick-witted and more perceptive than most.
‘What are you waiting for? Go and claim your new farmlands, see for yourself what fine land I’ve given you. Oh, and Liam, put this place up for sale.’
‘But who would buy ruined land, Gran?’ Liam said in exasperation.
‘Men who want to build houses, churches, or factories, there are still some of those about the place. Advertise the land, use your brain box, boy.’
Liam leaned forward and kissed his grandmother, his lips brushing the lined face with fondness.
‘You know something, you are not so bad.’
‘Get away with you, Liam Cullen, if that’s your idea of a compliment then ’tis clear you haven’t kissed the Blarney Stone.’
They returned to the house together, Liam matching his steps to Maeve’s slower ones, her arm through his. They walked in silence but there was a bond between them that needed no words.
Patricia was standing in the kitchen, her bags packed on the floor beside her.
‘What’s going on here?’ Maeve spoke more out of curiosity than concern.
‘Well, since there’s nothing here for me I’ve decided to move in with Terrence Duffy.’ She lifted her chin, ‘Any objections?’
‘Rat leaving a sinking ship, sort of thing,’ Maeve said. ‘You are a fool, you know the man can’t put a ring on your finger, he’s already got a wife.’
‘I’m not stupid, I know that.’ Patricia put her hands on her hips and Liam noticed with a dart of surprise mat, though his sister was plain, she had a well-rounded figure.
‘So, you are going to become part of the human race after all,’ Maeve sank into her rocking chair; ‘going to give up your virginity at last.’
‘Gran, do you have to be so crude?’ Patricia’s colour rose alarmingly. ‘I haven’t said I’d go to his bed, only keep house for him while his wife is sick.’
‘Sick in the mind, pour soul,’ Maeve spoke contemplatively; ‘thin as a rake and long as a piece of streaky bacon. She’s been no wife at all to poor Terry these past years.’ Her glance ran over her granddaughter’s tightly buttoned bodice and neat skirt. ‘Take my word for it, Patricia, he’ll be wanting more than a housekeeper.’
Liam stepped forward. ‘Look, Pat, no need for this.’ He glanced towards Maeve. ‘Can I tell her, Gran?’ Maeve shrugged.
‘Gran has given me some land, I can begin again, we can make a go of it. Come with me, be my housekeeper if that’s the sort of job you’re after.’
‘I see, so once again the blue-eyed boy has fallen on his feet. Well, I don’t want to come with you and take the crumbs from your table and I don’t want to stay here with Dad and Gran either. If I’m to be a housekeeper, then I’ll earn my living honestly.’
Maeve concealed a smile. Patricia glared at her angrily. ‘Don’t you laugh at me, Gran. As I remember it was you who urged me to get out into the world and find myself a man.’
‘Well, I’m glad to see that my advice didn’t fall on deaf ears.’ Maeve closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair, determined not to be drawn into any further discussion.
‘Right then, I’ll be going.’ Patricia picked up her bags and moved towards the door.
‘Hadn’t you better wait till Dad gets in?’ Liam asked her anxiously.
‘My father knows exactly what I intend to do, it was he who told me it was for the best.’ She glanced around the farmhouse. ‘The place is ruined, a wasteland, what good is it to anyone now?’
The rumble of wheels sounded on the gravel outside. Maeve opened her eyes and there was an impish gleam in their dark depths.
‘Looks like your knight in shining armour has arrived.’
‘Oh very funny, Gran.’ Patricia paused for a moment, her shoulders sagging as she stared through the door at the portly man seated on the cart. He lifted his hat and his bald pate shone in the pale sunlight.
‘You can always change your mind,’ Liam said. Patricia smiled with rare humour.
‘Half a loaf is better than none.’ She glanced at her gran, Maeve’s smile was suddenly warm.
‘I think there’s a bit of me in you yet, Patricia. Treasure it, it’ll be the saving of you, believe me.’
Liam watched as Terrence Duffy helped Patricia into the cart, his weathered face was alight and Liam wondered if perhaps Patricia had not made such a bad bargain after all. When the cart had rolled out of sight, Liam turned from the window.
‘Want some supper, Gran?’ His voice fell into the silent room, Maeve was asleep.
‘I think I’m having the bastard’s baby.’ Doreen looked up at Catherine, her eyes shadowed and heavy. The bruises inflicted by her husband had long since faded from her face and body but as the weeks had passed, her dread had increased and now she was sure, sure that her husband’s last, brutal attack on her had filled her with his child.
Catherine pushed the kettle onto the flames and Doreen could see that she was searching for something to say.
‘I don’t want it,’ Doreen said harshly. ‘I never wanted anything of his.’
Catherine came and sat beside her. ‘Perhaps you’ll change your mind when it’s born.’
‘And how will I keep it?’ Doreen felt anger burn within her. ‘How can I earn my living and carry a baby at the same time? It just can’t be done.’