Kingdom's Dream (31 page)

‘Just think,' Jayne said, ‘the Great Western will get stronger, other lines will be built. The railways are our future, don't you agree?'

‘You might just have a point,' he said slowly. He was suspicious of her motives in making the offer now but he could afford to buy the shares and take a loss on them. ‘I might take you up on that, Jayne,' he said at last, then leaned back in the carriage and closed his eyes. Perhaps it was time he began to woo his wife in the way a loving husband should. Clearly there was more to her than met the eye . . . but however much he might admire her, even desire her, she would never have his love.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Shanni finished packing her bag and snapped the catch shut with an air of determination. Soon, she and Pedr would shake the dust of Swansea off their feet for good. Standing there, in the little bedroom of the home they had made together her courage failed her. Leaving everything she knew was not going to be easy.

Pedr came into the room hauling a box of their possessions; papers fluttered off the top onto the floor and Shanni picked them up. ‘What are these, Pedr?'

‘Can't you see what they are?' His tone was sharp. ‘Or have you lost your senses yet again?'

Shanni ignored the barb. ‘Of course I can see what they are – they're patterns from the pottery – but why are you taking them?'

‘Potting is the only job I know and I'll need to find work in England. With these,' he took them from her, ‘I'll have something to bargain with.'

‘But why should an English pottery owner care about Llanelli patterns?' Shanni frowned. ‘The painters up there are skilled and they have their own.'

Pedr put down the box and closed the lid. ‘Many potteries use the same designs and I think the Persian Rose pattern would suit any painter, even those living in Staffordshire.'

‘But that's stealing!'

Pedr looked at her. ‘Wasn't Buchan stealing from me when he took you?'

‘Look, Pedr, I don't know why I let . . .' Her words trailed away. ‘Please, Pedr, try to forgive me. I know it's hard to forget what I've done but I'll never let you down again.' A few minutes passed before she spoke again. ‘Are you ready, Pedr? We're getting the mail in half an hour.'

‘I'll just tie this box securely then I'll be as ready as I'll ever be.' Shanni saw him looking around his home, and his regret at leaving it was plain to see in his eyes. Shanni realized now that not only had she shattered Pedr's trust in her but that she was driving him away from all he held dear. ‘Do we have to do this, Pedr?' she asked, in a small voice. ‘Can't we stay here and try to put the past behind us?'

‘With everyone pointing the finger and calling me a cuckold? You're not thinking straight, Shanni.'

‘But not many people know about it, do they?'

‘Well, now,' Pedr began to make his way downstairs, ‘let's see, there's Buchan himself, and his wife and his father-in-law. Then there's Mrs Mainwaring and her husband. Oh, and, of course, Mrs Keen and her customers. I couldn't face the pitying stares, Shanni, I just couldn't.'

In the small kitchen, he put down the box and gazed at the cold dead fireplace, the neat furnishings. Shanni took him in her arms, her head against his chest.

‘Oh, Pedr, what a fool I've been. What a silly, evil woman I am.' Pedr was standing stiffly, his arms at his sides, and Shanni began to sob. ‘I love you, Pedr, I would give anything to turn back the clock, you know that.'

He sighed and rested his chin against her hair. ‘No one can do that.'

She looked up at him. ‘I know, but we must stop tearing each other apart or our marriage will be over.'

‘You're right, I know you are, but it's the very devil thinking of you letting that man touch you – never mind make love to you.'

She cupped his face in her hands. ‘I'll make it up to you, Pedr, you'll see. Now, let's pull ourselves together and go and get the mail. Our new life is just about to begin.'

‘Not long now before the station opens at Swansea.' Bull glanced at Cookson, who was bending over a sheaf of plans. ‘I can't wait to see the Great Western train pull in alongside the platform.'

Cookson looked up, shading his eyes from the bright sun shining through the office window. ‘You'll get to meet the great man himself, Bull.' Cookson's face was full of pride. ‘Mr Isambard Kingdom Brunel will be the first to step off the train at Swansea. How I admire that man.' He dipped into his pocket and drew out a silver flask. ‘Here, have a nip of this.'

‘Thank you, sir.' Bull swallowed some. ‘Damn!' he spluttered. ‘That's hotter than the fires of hell.'

Cookson shrugged. ‘I don't notice it myself – used to it, I suppose. Right, let's get over to the high street and see how the work is progressing, shall we?'

The two men left the building and stood in the street while Cookson checked his papers. ‘Let's take the carriage, shall we? We'll travel in style this morning.'

The groom touched his hat and handed the reins to Bull. ‘Here we are, sir. The beasts are gentle enough. They shouldn't give you any trouble.'

Bull clucked his tongue and lifted the reins, and the horses jerked the carriage into motion. As he sat far above the heads of the shoppers he felt as if he owned the world. He looked around him and everything seemed different, but it was not the town that had changed, it was Bull.

He was looked upon as a gentleman now. He wore well-cut clothes and a shiny hat, but for him the real satisfaction came from his work. He was asked for his opinion on important matters, such as which gauge would serve the railway best. Mr Brunel wanted all the tracks to be broad gauge but that plan had attracted opposition.

The drive across town took less than half an hour, and when the two men alighted they stood shoulder to shoulder, gazing at the scene before them.

‘We've made good progress,' Cookson said. ‘A congratulatory drink is in order, I think.'

Bull shook his head: he did not need the stimulus of drink. The sight of the navvies working side by side with the masons and carpenters was excitement enough. This was all he could ask of life. He had a worthwhile job and a beautiful wife-to-be, what more could he want?

Soon he was pointing out difficulties, solving problems, fulfilling all his ambitions. That morning. Bull Beynon was a happy man.

Rhiannon was exasperated with Cook. ‘Can't you forget that I was a camp follower for one day?' she challenged.

‘Well, can you? That's more to the point, my girl.' Mrs Grinter was in one of her moods again. ‘You're so used to lying on your back all day that it's hard to get a day's work out of you.'

‘That's not fair!' Rhiannon said. ‘I do more than my share here, and in any case I did a lot more than lie on my back.' She knew it was foolish of her to rile Cook – the other woman had the power to make life a misery for those working under her if she chose.

‘I had to look after Bull, mind,' Rhiannon said, more quietly. ‘He needed clean clothes and good food to put in his belly, and who do you think did that for him?'

‘As well as warming his bed.' Cook was not to be mollified. ‘Decent women do that every day of their lives and a job of work as well. You lived like the gentry, my girl, and now you don't like to work hard for a living.'

‘Gentry?' Rhiannon said sharply. ‘What gentry ever lived in a hut with tiny rooms, cheap curtains and a door that was coming off its hinges?' She warmed to her subject. ‘And when you stepped outside you were sometimes knee-deep in mud.'

‘Well, that's what you'll go back to if you don't shape up, girl.' Cook sniffed. ‘Perhaps that's all you're good for – cos you're not good at anything else.'

Rhiannon was silent. Perhaps the woman was right. Surely her old life was better than the constant grind of fetching coal for all the fires in the house and carrying heavy jugs of water up three flights of stairs? But, then, she would never find another man like Bull: he had treated her with respect, protected her from the other men. She had been so happy with him.

‘Don't just stand there, girl. Go to town and get me some yeast – do something useful for a change.'

‘I thought Katie usually did the errands, Cook,' she said. ‘I don't know why you send her, though, she always spends half the day roaming around Swansea.'

‘Katie's busy upstairs,' Cook said, ‘and, in any case, if I say you must go then I expect you to obey me.'

‘All right, Cook, I'll go and willingly.' Come to think of it, an hour or two out of the house would do her good.

Later, as she walked downhill towards Swansea, Rhiannon's anger drained away. It was a clear, sunny day and a warm breeze was blowing in from the sea. This was the weather the camp women liked, when the sun shone and they could sit outside to cook the food for their men and spend the time in idle gossip. Rhiannon missed the camaraderie of the other women. But she ached for Bull at night when she lay in her narrow bed; in the dark hours she longed for the times she had spent curled up against her man, content and warm, happy with her lot. Now, because of Katie Cullen, she had lost everything.

There was an air of festivity about the town. Along some of the streets flags were being strung between the houses, and windows had been cleaned until they sparkled like diamonds in the sun.

Perhaps she could go to see the new station, which was going to open shortly – she might even catch a glimpse of Bull. Her heartbeat quickened. If he saw her again he might realize what he was missing. Bull was finding no comfort in Katie's arms: she was a maiden and would remain so until the wedding ring was placed on her finger.

Rhiannon walked along the high street and here the road teemed with people. Horse-drawn carriages vied for position and street peddlers shouted their wares. And then she saw him. For a moment she was breathless with love for him. He stood head and shoulders above the rest of the crowd and the sight of his dear face brought tears to her eyes. ‘Bull.' She hurried forward and stumbled against him in her haste. He caught her arm to steady her. ‘Bull, how are you keeping?' She tried to sound casual but every instinct was telling her to throw herself on his mercy and beg him to take her back.

Suddenly she realized the engineer was standing alongside him and she drew back, but Mr Cookson was smiling at her approvingly. ‘This is your lovely lady, then, Bull, is it?'

‘This is Rhiannon,' Bull said, ‘but we are not together any longer. Rhiannon works as a maidservant these days.' He smiled as he held her away from him. ‘How are you doing up at the Big House, Rhiannon? Is Mr Morton-Edwards a kind master?'

‘Yes, very kind.' Rhiannon swallowed hard. ‘But it's not the life for me, Bull. I feel cooped up, smothered by the other women there, all of them thinking they're better than me.'

‘You'll get used to it, Rhiannon,' Bull said. ‘I'm sure it's nice for you to have clean sheets to lie on and good food to put in your belly.' He glanced at the engineer. ‘Hadn't we better get along, sir?' He distanced himself from Rhiannon, and she felt bitterly hurt.

‘Just a minute, Bull,' Cookson said, ‘I could do with a housekeeper – that's if you are interested.' He smiled at Rhiannon. ‘You will be the only
young
lady in a bachelor's residence. My cook is old as the hills and will be glad of a pair of hands to help her out. Mind,' he continued, ‘I can't offer you the luxury that you find in Mr Morton-Edwards' household but you should be comfortable enough all the same.'

‘That's very kind of you, sir.' Rhiannon glanced at Bull, wondering how he felt about the engineer's offer. There was no doubt that Mr Cookson and he were becoming good friends so if she took up a position with him she would see Bull more often. ‘If you really mean it, sir, I would like to work for you very much.'

‘Well, then, that's settled. Now, you must give notice at the Big House and then Bull will show you where I live, won't you, Bull?'

‘Yes, sir.' Bull did not sound too pleased but there was nothing he could say without offending his boss.

‘I know where you live, Bull,' Rhiannon said. ‘When I've worked out my notice I'll come to your place, shall I?'

‘I suppose that will be all right,' Bull said reluctantly, ‘though perhaps you could let me know about your plans through Katie.'

‘I'll just come to your house. Thank you, Mr Cookson, for your generous offer. I'll be very happy working for you, I'm sure.' She glanced round. ‘I suppose I'd better get on, I've shopping to do.'

Before Bull could protest Rhiannon melted into the crowds. She was jubilant – she would have the chance to see Bull again, to be with him at his new house.

Perhaps when he saw her employed at the engineer's home he would realize she was respectable now. It was with a happy smile and a light heart that Rhiannon did her shopping and set off for home. Just wait until she told Miss High and Mighty Katie Cullen that she was seeing Bull again. That would take the smile off her face.

‘You don't mind me taking on the girl, do you?' Cookson grinned at Bull, who shook his head.

‘Not a bit, sir. I'd like to see Rhiannon happy. She's a good girl.'

‘And a good bedfellow too, by the look of her. Made for loving is that girl and I've been without a woman for too long.'

Bull was not sure that Rhiannon understood the terms of her employment but, he reasoned, she was better off with a man like Cookson than being passed around the navvies. It was clear that the job at the Big House was getting her down and soon, for one reason or another, she would be out of work. The only life she knew was keeping men happy. He felt a flash of guilt at the way he had left her: she was a loyal woman and she had loved him dearly. He had been more than a meal ticket to her, far more.