Authors: Iris Gower
‘Oh, Calvin, why couldn’t we have done things differently?’ She sighed and he knew she was feeling the same sense of hopelessness as he was.
He wanted to persuade her to come with him now, to abandon everything and flee abroad, the Canary Islands perhaps, where the sun shone most of the time or further afield in America, far from the grey streets of Swansea. The words died on his lips as Arian spoke.
‘I must get back to the newspaper, Calvin. I’ve been away too long as it is.’
‘Is it that important to you then?’ He sounded a little bitter and she shrugged.
‘It’s all I’ve got and I must make the most of it.’ She stood up and he rose to his feet at her side. She looked up at him.
‘Calvin, there’s going to be a reception at the city hall in my honour, please say you’ll come.’
‘I’ll be there.’ He felt dismissed, a feeling he didn’t much like but Arian was wiser than he was. There was no running away, not for them, not now. It was far too late for that.
He turned, hearing a sound, and saw Gerald Simples walking across the foyer, he must have been eavesdropping on their conversation. He made to speak to Arian, to warn her but she’d gone and all he could see was the door swinging shut behind her.
When he returned home, it was to find a note lay on his desk and he opened it, straightening out the paper, reading the words slowly so that he would understand them clearly. Ellie had gone home to her parents. They, she told him, would take care of her and the children. She wanted no further contact with him.
He sighed as he crumpled the paper in his hand. It was a time of change, might it not be also a time of new beginnings?
The reception was held in the Guildhall. The steps beneath the splendid facade with its Grecian pillars were awash with people. Ladies in splendid gowns stepped from carriages and swept under the portico. Gems glittered at throat and arms and in glossy hair. It was a spectacular occasion when the owner of the newly formed
Swansea Times
was being fêted by the city fathers.
And yet Arian felt alone, even though she had Mac at her side and her staff, from reporters to machine operators around her, she felt isolated from the crowd.
The mayor came forward and shook her hand and spoke some words of congratulation. Arian nodded and made the right responses and accepted his offer to help her greet the guests.
Arian knew most of them, they were the élite of Swansea. In the crowd she could see Emily Miller and her husband John, with them was John’s daughter Sarah and her husband Geoffrey Frogmore. Looking at them, no-one would suspect the secrets of their strange marriage.
‘Arian, how lovely to be invited to your reception.’ Hari Grenfell took her hand and squeezed it, she had always been a warm, generous person and her delight was genuine. At her side, Craig Grenfell was tall, elegant and imposing, a handsome, positive man, who clearly loved his wife dearly.
It seemed that most of the guests had arrived and the mayor excused himself and moved to join a group of other dignitaries. Arian felt free now to look out for Calvin. If he didn’t come, the evening would be empty.
She felt Mac take her arm. ‘Would you like a drink, Arian? It’s champagne, the best.’
Arian sipped the drink. ‘I’ve never tasted better champagne but you, Mac, I expect you are an expert at that sort of thing.’
He winked at her mischievously. ‘I’m an expert at a great many things, my dear boss.’
Just when the mayor was preparing to make his formal speech of congratulation, she caught sight of Calvin from the corner of her eye. She smiled at him and for a moment it was as though there was no-one but the two of them in the spacious elegant room. Arian made her way to Calvin’s side and her eyes met his.
‘Don’t look at me like that, Arian,’ he said huskily. ‘I might forget myself and take you in my arms right here in front of everyone.’
‘As I feel now, I wouldn’t care one little bit. All I wanted was for you to be here. I’m so glad you could be with me tonight.’ He took her hand and looked down at her his eyebrows raised. She put her finger over his lips.
‘Don’t ask questions. Let’s just enjoy what we have now, at this moment.’ She was so happy, so keyed up with the excitement of it all. Tonight, anything seemed possible, even that she and Calvin might one day be together.
Gerald Simples stood in the elegantly furnished room in the Castle Hotel and stared at himself in the mirror. He looked well, he thought with satisfaction. He chuckled and yet the sound was menacing. Earlier, Gerald had gone to the bank and taken out quite a large amount of cash. With some of the money he’d bought himself a new outfit. It wouldn’t do to turn up at Arian’s party looking anything but a gentleman.
All he needed now was for Candida to bring him his fresh supply of laudanum. He’d taken none, not in the last few hours and by now, he was itching for it – it would make him feel good, confident at the Guildhall reception.
He would have to go soon, the reception would be in full swing by now. He smiled. His dear wife would have the surprise of her life to see him. His appearance would undoubtedly prove to her that they were meant to be together, she was half convinced about it already, he could tell by the way she had jealously begged him to rid himself of Candida.
It would be a relief to leave the avid Candida behind him, to put her out of his life. He was tired of her advances. Indeed once or twice lately, he had been unable to fulfil his duties towards her beneath the sheets. She had tried to make him go easy on the laudanum, blaming that for his reluctance rather than take the blame herself.
He rubbed at his head. He wished the clouds would leave him alone. They came like a grey mist, unbidden and covered his mind. He shook his head for a moment, he couldn’t see his own reflection in the mirror and then his vision cleared.
The door opened and Candida came in and to his surprise, she didn’t even notice he was dressed to go out. He’d expected her to make a fuss, to beg him to stay in with her, she was nothing if not possessive.
‘Gerald, darling,’ she seemed agitated, ‘I’ve got some bad news for you.’ She closed the door and came towards him, her hands held out almost in supplication.
‘They found me out, took away my key to the medicine cupboard. I’m sorry, my darling, I can’t get you any more laudanum.’
She was babbling. He caught her shoulders and held her fast. ‘What are you talking about?’ His throat hurt, his mouth was dry, she must have something for him, some small bottle perhaps.
‘You’ve got me some, just for tonight, until I can arrange to buy some for myself? You wouldn’t let me down like that, would you?’
She shook her head. ‘I couldn’t get it, Gerald, you don’t understand.’ Her eyes were moist, her face seemed to dissolve. ‘I might be dismissed from my job and I did it all for you.’
‘You’ve got nothing for me, nothing at all?’ He stared into her face and watched with horror as she shook her head. He put his hand around her throat. ‘You must have something, just a little laudanum. You’re just teasing because you want to have me beg. All right, I’ll beg. Please, please, Candida, give me the medicine, I need it, you know I need it.’
She was shaking her head, trying to get away from him but he couldn’t allow her to go. He must keep pressing, pressing. She struggled helplessly and he pressed harder, he wouldn’t release her, didn’t she understand, he couldn’t let her go, not until she closed those terrible eyes.
She struggled, kicked at him, hurt him, she should never do that, he’d always been good to her. She tried to speak but her tongue seemed to be in the way. She was ugly, grotesque, why had he ever thought her beautiful?
He shook her and heard something snap and then she was quiet and that pleased him. She was slack in his arms and he set her down on the bed and straightened his clothes. He didn’t have time to talk to her any more, he had something important to do, what was it? Ah, the celebration, his dear sweet wife’s night of triumph. She would be anxious, wanting him there at her side. He must go.
He left the room and closed the door, locking it carefully. He didn’t want anyone prying into his private possessions. Someone might steal his money, might come in and see Candida in his bed, that would upset Arian.
His knife he had put in his boot, the cold steel was against his leg. It gave him a sense of power and he needed his power tonight for this was going to be his great moment. Tonight Arian would be his again.
Arian was standing close to Calvin. He secretly touched her hand, twining his fingers in hers. Happiness filled her, so much happiness, she knew it couldn’t last, it was a dream and yet didn’t she deserve to dream, just this once?
There was a sudden feeling of someone standing uncomfortably close to her. She glanced over her shoulder. Gerald Simples was so near he could have touched her. She shuddered. He was watching her, his eyes strange and he licked his lips as though he had difficulty in finding words to speak to her.
He appeared a little nervous but otherwise quite in control. He was well dressed, his clothes elegant and obviously new.
‘Arian, I’m here.’ His voice was a croak and Arian flashed an anguished look at Calvin who was suddenly tense, his jaw clenched together, his eyes hard.
Gerald took her in his arms and Arian, aware of the curious, staring eyes, accepted his embrace.
In the silence, Arian heard Mac deliberately begin a conversation. In minutes, the room was back to apparent normality, the guests chattering as though nothing had happened.
‘What are you doing here?’ Calvin said in a low, hard voice. ‘You must know you’re not welcome.’
‘You don’t understand,’ Gerald’s voice was a threat. ‘She wants me back.’
‘Please, Calvin, don’t make a scene.’
Arian turned to Gerald. ‘Let’s go into another room, we must talk.’
He looked at her and the look made her shiver. ‘You’re not, not …’ He put his hand to his head. ‘What was I going to say?’
‘Look Simples, this is neither the time nor the place,’ Calvin spoke quietly. ‘Why don’t you go away and allow Arian to enjoy her evening?’
Gerald didn’t turn round. ‘Keep out of this!’ He was facing Arian but it was as though he didn’t see her. His eyes gleamed, his voice was rising. ‘You’ve always wanted to bed my wife, think I don’t know a ram when I see one?’
People were turning, staring. Quite a few of the guests who had been the subject of Mac’s gossip column were enjoying Arian’s embarrassment.
‘Gerald, be quiet,’ Arian spoke angrily. ‘I will not have a scene here, do you understand me?’
As soon as the words sunk into his mind, Gerald became enraged. He caught Arian by the throat and held her against the wall, a knife suddenly appearing in his hands.
Arian felt the cold steel against her skin, saw the madness in Gerald’s eyes and she was afraid.
‘You are coming home with me,’ he ground the words out between clenched teeth. ‘I’m going to show you that I am master of my own wife, do you hear me?’ He shook her and the blade of the knife drew a line of blood across the whiteness of her skin.
She knew then what she must do. ‘Yes, I’m coming home with you, Gerald, let’s get out of here, shall we?’ It was obvious that he was not answerable for his actions, if she didn’t get him away others might be hurt.
‘No,’ Calvin made a move towards her but Gerald lashed out and a patch of red appeared on the pristine white of Calvin’s shirt. Some women screamed and Gerald stared around him, his expression fierce.
Arian addressed the crowds. ‘Please be calm, we’re leaving now, we’re going home. To my house.’ She flashed Calvin a warning look as she took Gerald’s hand. He still had the knife raised, he was looking round him, his head moving from side to side like a caged beast but he allowed Arian to lead him across the room towards the door.
She was frightened, very frightened but she forced herself onwards towards the carriage that was waiting for one of the guests.
‘Driver, take me to the Hollies, Mount Pleasant Avenue please.’ She tried to warn him with her eyes but it was dark and the driver couldn’t see what was going on.
‘Sorry, madam, I’m waiting for Mr and Mrs Grenfell. I’m their driver, not for hire.’
Gerald growled and held the knife high. The man started back in his seat and Arian spoke quietly, trying to calm him.
‘Please, just take us home and no-one will be hurt.’
In the carriage, Arian tried to talk to Gerald, offered to take the knife away from him but he shook his head. He slumped against her, his energy seemed spent and she sat still at his side, praying that he would fall asleep.
Just as she was about to take the knife from his hand, the carriage jerked to a halt. ‘We’re here, madam.’
The driver remained in his seat, unwilling to help, watching in silent fear as Arian led Gerald from the coach. The streets appeared silent, the carriage was fast disappearing, she was alone with a madman.
She led him inside the house wondering just what she would do next. He slumped into a chair, his eyes were ablaze with a strange light but it was as though he didn’t recognize her.
‘You’re my wife.’ His voice was thick and she saw him lift the knife and look at it and then look at her as though he was debating what to do.
‘Come here,’ he ordered and she moved towards him, clenching her hands together to stop them from trembling. ‘Shall I kill you or shall I take you to bed?’
He reached out and drew her down onto his knee and held the knife against her breast. She felt the steel hard against her flesh, cutting through the thin cloth of her gown. She was going to die, she thought, die and not know what it was to enjoy life.
Gerald pushed her down onto the floor and slumped down onto his knees beside her. ‘I don’t think you’ve ever loved me. You hate me, don’t you, Candida? You didn’t bring me the laudanum, you let me down, betrayed me to my enemies. You think I don’t know what your little game is but I know all right.’
Arian felt real fear then. He didn’t even recognize her, he was lost in some nightmare world of his own. She saw the knife poised above her, she reached up and caught hold of the blade to prevent Gerald from plunging it into her. She didn’t feel the knife cut into her hands but she saw the blood run down her arms, staining the silk material of her sleeves.