Authors: Iris Gower
Without looking back, Doreen hurried along the dingy passageway. Catherine felt a small breeze of air as the front door opened and closed and then she was alone in the silent room. She sank down into her chair and looked at the small amount of money on the table. Suddenly, she was crying.
‘I can’t pay you a month’s rent in advance, not right now.’ Hari faced the landlord of the dingy house in Watkin Street, the stairs had creaked ominously as she climbed them and the smell of cats hung around the upper rooms. The last tenant of the first-floor rooms had not been too particular by the look of it. ‘But you have my word on it that I am good for it, whatever you might have heard.’ Hari wondered why she was trying so hard to rent the rooms, they were in a narrow street, back to back with other houses, with no green spaces or sea view, just the walls of other similar houses.
‘Well, I’ve heard quite a few things, Mrs Grenfell, but I don’t ’spects you carries a gun with you very often,’ Luther Rees said. ‘So I suppose you’ll do as good as the next person.’ He looked down at her, a tall man with a great belly but with a twinkle of humour in his deep-set eyes. Hari relaxed.
‘It will be extra for the shed out the back, mind,’ he added. ‘Never had a shop here before, should be special rent for business premises but as it’s you, I’ll charge you the going rate, right oh?’
Hari felt a moment of panic, the money she had raised from selling some of the good pieces up at Summer Lodge was disappearing at an alarming rate. She would be picking up the proceeds from the latest piece of furniture on her way home. The money would just about cover a month’s rent on the first-floor rooms. The shed outside she would use for storing boots and shoes. She would put a bench in there to work on, it would not be ideal but it would have to do.
She agreed to the landlord’s terms, worrying what Craig’s reaction would be. What would he feel about living in such appalling circumstances?
‘I’ll bring you the advance rent first thing in the morning. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you would want it right away.’
‘That’s the way business is done round these parts,’ Lou said. ‘Once the rent is paid up, you can move in right away, Mrs Grenfell.’
‘You’ll have your rent, don’t you worry,’ Hari said quickly. Lou nodded and handed her two keys. ‘One for the front door, but it’s never locked and this other one is for your own door.’ He left her then and she heard his heavy footsteps on the uncarpeted stairs.
She looked round, the living-room was fairly large with two windows facing the street. A cast-iron fireplace was set in the wall, the surrounding tiles chipped and stained. Worn rugs, grey with dirt, covered the wooden floor-boards. It was a far cry from Summer Lodge. Hari opened a window with difficulty, it had not been opened in a long time judging by the state of it.
She crossed the long landing, down three stairs and up three at the back of the house. Several doors led off the landing: the bedroom, quite large and bare, a spare room and an ill-equipped kitchen. Hari felt, with a sense of despair, that she had come full circle; she was back now in the slums where she was born.
She wandered aimlessly around her new home noting that the place would need to be scrubbed from top to bottom before she could live in it. The smell of cats permeated every room and even the breeze from the windows did not bring any freshness into the house.
For a moment Hari almost gave up, almost sank down on the bare boards and gave in to the weeping that was going on inside her. And then anger blossomed, anger against the woman who had done this to her, ‘Blast Bethan Hopkins!’
Hari lifted her chin, she would not be beaten, she would not sink under the blow, she was born a fighter and she would die a fighter.
She left the rooms not bothering to lock the door, there was nothing to steal, and made her way back down the gloomy stairs. A figure was standing in the passageway looking up at her.
‘Would you like to come in to my place, Mrs Grenfell? I can’t offer you tea, I haven’t any, but there’s a little drop of dandelion and burdock left if you feel like it.’
‘Catherine, that’s very kind of you.’ She followed the flame-haired girl into the room, similar to her own. The front room was clean but the all-pervasive smell of cats filtered down, even to here.
Catherine brought her a glass containing a brown liquid and indicated a chair. ‘Please sit down, Mrs Grenfell. You can make these rooms quite comfortable if you try really hard.’ Hari knew the girl was trying to be encouraging.
She looked around at the faded but clean curtains, at the logs glowing in the grate, the multicoloured rag mats on the clean, washed floor and her heart contracted within her. How could she bear it. She had faced grinding poverty before but then she had been young and strong, like Catherine. Now she was growing older, her children were adults, soon she would be a grandmother.
‘I don’t know how long I’ll be able to stay here,’ Catherine was saying. ‘I must find a job or I’ll be out on my ear, old Lou is a good landlord but he likes to get his rent on time.’
Hari smiled, though she could feel lines of tension around her eyes. ‘I’m in the same boat as you, Catherine,’ she said. ‘I have to get in some work, I need boots and shoes to tap and plenty of them if I’m to survive.’
Catherine smiled, ‘You’ll do it, Mrs Grenfell, you are so clever, I can’t see you being here for long. You watch, you’ll be rich again before you know it, you were born under a lucky star.’
Catherine’s face was that of a madonna, beautiful, with that wonderful bloom that was the gift of youth. As well as being beautiful, she was charming and had a kind and generous spirit.
‘Well, if what you say is true then you’ll be up there with me, Catherine. When I can afford to pay wages again, you will be the first one to have a job, believe me.’ Hari rose to her feet. ‘Well, I’d better go and break the news about our new home to my husband.’ Her spirits lifted at the thought of being with Craig, safe in Summer Lodge, even if it was for this one night. Still they had each other, both of them enjoyed good health and they were in love, that was a blessing not given to many.
‘You are so lucky, Mrs Grenfell. I’ve seen you and Mr Grenfell together, you are so close, I envy you.’
‘I think you’ve been reading my mind,’ Hari said. ‘I was just thinking along the same lines.’
She moved to the door. ‘Thank you for the refreshment, I’ll be seeing you soon.’
As she walked along the dim passageway, Hari paused to look back up the stairs, thinking of the empty rooms that were to be her new home, and she was filled with doubt and fear.
Out in the street, she stared around her. It was growing dark, the late-afternoon sun was sinking lower in the sky and the trees were beginning to bend in the rising wind. Suddenly feeling the bite of the cold, Hari forced herself to hurry along the streets towards the shop where her beautiful hall table now stood with a sale ticket hanging from one of its elegant legs.
The door of the elegant shop was closed, it was dark inside and for a moment Hari panicked, thinking the proprietor had gone home. She knocked loudly and when there was no response, she knocked again, harder.
A light came on somewhere at the back of the building and Mr Compton, glasses held in his hand, came through the shop. When he saw her, he doubled back, reappearing, a few moments later, with a thick envelope in his hand.
‘Mrs Grenfell, I have been expecting you.’ She could hear the sound of voices from one of the back rooms.
‘I’m sorry, Mr Compton, I didn’t realize you had company, I shouldn’t have left it so late.’
‘No harm done, my dear.’ Mr Compton was a lightly built man, with slicked-back hair and a thin mouth. There was something effete about him that made Hari uncomfortable.
She looked quickly in the envelope and then took a more careful look. ‘Mr Compton, I think you have made a mistake, this is far less than the price we agreed on.’
‘It’s all I can offer, dear Mrs Grenfell, I am afraid trade is bad and the little table isn’t as wonderful as I first thought it was. I am afraid that is the best I can do. You could always have the table back, of course.’
Hart knew he was trying her, he knew as well as she did that she could not afford to take the table back. She tucked the money into her bag and stood away from the door. ‘Thank you, Mr Compton, and good night.’
‘Good night, dear lady, it’s a pleasure doing business with you. Any other little thing you want to sell, don’t hesitate to knock on my door.’
He disappeared inside and Hari sighed heavily, turning up the collar of her coat, trying to force back the tears of disappointment and humiliation. It was bad enough to sell her lovely things without being cheated of a fair price.
She told herself to cheer up, she still had enough money to rent the rooms she needed, it could be worse. With head high, she made towards the hill and home.
Her legs began to ache before she had travelled little over a mile, she was unused to walking, she had grown accustomed to riding in a plush carriage. But she had been poor before, she just had to find the old determination that had once burned so fiercely within her, but alone in the gathering dark, that was rather a tall order.
By the time she reached the top of the hill, she needed to pause for breath. She rested for a moment against a tree, wishing she had not left it so late to return home. The wind was growing fiercer, dark clouds were chasing across the sky. She shivered, she had yet to pass the spot where Doreen had shot her husband. It was foolish of her but she had a superstitious fear about the place ever since Meadows’s death. The picture of him lying in a pool of his own blood, the fierce anger seeping out of his face as he died, would always be with her.
She realized full well that Doreen was forced into shooting Meadows, he had brutally raped and beaten her to within an inch of her life. He intended the same fate for Hari, he was an evil monster who did not deserve to live. Anyone would shoot in such circumstances. But would she? Hari was not sure at all. She might have turned and fled like a coward.
She shivered again. Standing there, thinking about the horror that had taken place on the spot was not helping at all. She must tell Craig about the wonders of their new home. She twisted her lips into a wry smile. One more night to enjoy Summer Lodge before it was let out to strangers, a few more precious hours to enjoy the comforts of home and here she was, wasting time dithering about on the road.
She walked on, head bent against the wind. It was rising now, sobbing in the trees with an almost human voice, tearing leaves from the branches, whipping them into Hari’s face so that she could hardly see where she was going.
Hari longed for the sight of the house, of the lamplight burning in the windows. She wanted to be safe in Craig’s arms, to forget for a few hours that they were penniless and too old to be starting anew.
She hesitated as she saw the big twisted tree where Meadows had died. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled icily. There was a shadow among the bushes, was it human? She began to run, her breath tearing in her throat. She heard nothing behind her and when she risked a glance over her shoulder, she saw nothing but shadows. And then, there was a blinding pain in her temple and the earth was spinning away into deep darkness.
She did not know how long she lay there but Hari returned to consciousness with the rain falling onto her face. She struggled to sit up; what had happened, had the ghost of Peter Meadows been waiting to avenge himself?
She looked down, her bag was lying open on the ground, the white envelope had gone. It was not ghostly hands that had robbed her, whoever had taken her money had been all too human. She winced as she touched the back of her head and felt a lump the size of an egg.
She struggled to her feet and then the full import of what had happened flooded over her. The money was gone, now she had nothing, not a farthing, no money to pay the rent on the mean little rooms at Watkin Street. As she walked along the road, silent tears ran down her face, mingling with the spiteful darts of rain.
A sense of desperation filled her, she had done her best and she had been beaten, she could do no more. She would give up, forget about running a shoe shop, she would just have to manage on the wages Craig would earn at
The Swansea Times
, forget about living again at Summer Lodge one day.
But then, a small voice inside her said that then Bethan Hopkins would have won, she would have had her revenge. Anger and resentment began to pound in Hari’s aching head, Bethan Hopkins had ground her into the dirt.
Hari shivered. If this was the punishment meted out just for refusing to do the woman’s bidding what would happen to the girl who had taken her husband away from her? Catherine O’Conner would have to be warned that she was in great danger.
Hari’s head ached intolerably, she longed to be home in Craig’s arms, longed to feel his hand on her hair, hear his beautiful voice speaking soothing words. She sighed heavily, Craig was her one bright spot in a dark world. They loved each other, surely that was enough to see them through any disaster?
The rain ceased as suddenly as it had begun and Hari walked quickly as the gates of Summer Lodge came into view. The pitted drive had never seemed so long as the lights from the windows beckoned invitingly. Hari took a deep ragged breath, she had a pain in her side from walking too fast but she needed to be indoors, inside the safety of her own home with her husband’s arms around her.
A carriage stood in the shadows of the trees but Hari did not notice, she was hurrying towards the open front door. The house was quiet, no sounds of servants working in the kitchen, no cheerful chatter of the shop girls, it was all gone, Summer Lodge seemed to be just an empty shell of a house.
‘Craig!’ She somehow sensed that Craig was not there but someone was, an unseen presence hovered around her and for the first time in her married life, Hari felt afraid in her own home. It was a big house, it would take her a long time to look through all the rooms but an urgency possessed her. Where was Craig? Was he safe? He surely would not have gone out this late in the evening.