Paradise Park (2 page)

Rhiannon was almost asleep when the door opened. She sat up quickly, holding her bag tightly. She had few enough possessions and had no intention of losing them.

‘What's this, then?' A uniformed station-master came into the room and looked from Rhiannon to Sal, his sharp eyes taking in every detail of their appearance. Rhiannon had never seen the man before and realized he would know nothing about her previous life.

‘You.' He prodded Sal. ‘Out of here now, we don't want your sort cluttering the place up.'

‘She's with me,' Rhiannon said.

The man's eyes narrowed. ‘Well, I took you to be a respectable lady but if she's with you then I suppose you're both harlots. This room is for respectable ladies only.'

‘Surely you could let us stay for the night. No one's going to come along until daylight, are they?'

He stared at her sternly. ‘I said, out of here. Now, get going before I call the constable. Unless . . .' He moved closer to Rhiannon. ‘You look clean enough and a fine handsome woman into the bargain. What if you stay with me for the night and the girl can sleep in by here? How would that suit you?'

Rhiannon swallowed her anger. ‘I'm sorry, you've made a mistake. I'm not a street woman.'

He fell back, uncertain now. ‘Well, I don't know . . .' He lifted his cap and scratched his head. ‘You seem respectable enough, but if you are, why are you out at this time of night with this little whore for company?'

‘I was employed by Mr Cookson, the railway engineer. I'm sure you've heard of him.'

‘Aye, I have that. Didn't the poor fellow pass on a week or two ago? Clever man knew the great Mr Brunel personally, so I hear.'

‘Yes, that's right. I nursed Mr Cookson on his deathbed and now his sister has taken over the house and dispensed with my services without giving me notice.'

‘That wasn't very nice of her, was it?' He paused. ‘All right, you can stay but the girl goes.'

‘If she goes I go,' Rhiannon said flatly.

For a moment it looked as if the man would give in but then he walked to the door and opened it. ‘That's up to you, then, isn't it?'

‘Come on, Sal, let's get out of here,' Rhiannon said, and swept past the station-master, her head high.

‘Lot of good being respectable's done you,' Sal said. ‘I'm going back to town. I should pick up a good customer at this hour and then at least I'll have a roof over my head for the night.'

Before Rhiannon could argue, Sal had disappeared like a shadow into the darkness. Rhiannon looked about her: this was the second time tonight she had been thrown out but she would sleep rough rather than go back to her old trade.

Slowly, she walked away from the station, feeling desolate as the glow of the gaslights faded from sight. She followed the railway line as it wound outwards from the station and a feeling of hope gripped her. Perhaps she would find the hut where she had lived with her man.

Her man. She thought of Bull Beynon, strong and handsome, with a good head on his broad shoulders. For a few short months she'd been so happy; even the rough surroundings of the shanty town had not diminished the joy she had felt when she was with him. Bull had gone up in the world, become a manager on the railways, with the job of overseeing the maintenance of the line from Swansea to Chepstow. And he had married a respectable girl from Greenhill. She only hoped Katie Cullen appreciated what a fine man she had.

The edge of the railway was dark and deserted – the camp-women had gone with their men, following the web of rail track through the countryside – but the hut was still there. With a sigh of relief Rhiannon let herself in. The place smelt of damp as no fire had been lit in the brazier for a long time. Could she really sleep here? What choice did she have? Rhiannon rummaged on the dusty shelf until she touched a stub of a candle. Carefully she felt around until she found some matches and a smile curved her lips. Now she could make herself comfortable for what remained of the night.

As she lit the candle a warm glow filled the small hut. Now she could light a fire. She knew that Bull used to keep a bundle of sticks under the bed and she bent down to slide her hand beneath the frame. Good! Some kindling had been left behind when the hut had been abandoned. At first it refused to light and Rhiannon thought of the warm room she'd grown used to. Still, she was here now and she just had to make the best of it.

At last, she had a good fire shooting flames and spitting sparks through the bars of the brazier. Rhiannon held out her hands, enjoying the warmth. Suddenly she felt weary, and stretched out on the bed she had shared with Bull. It was then that the tears ran fast down her face, but she had learned that crying did no good. Life was full of ups and downs, and she had weathered them all, hadn't she? But she had never felt so despairing as she did now, alone in the damp hut to which she'd thought she'd said goodbye for ever.

The candle flickered and died, and Rhiannon stared into the flames, which danced in a blur before her tear-filled eyes. Then she heard a rat scratching and drew her shawl closer to her face. She thought of chasing it out of the hut but she was too weary to bother. Perhaps the creature needed warmth and shelter as much as she did. She was almost asleep when the whistle of a train woke her again.

As the train thundered past she wondered briefly whether it would be better to go back to her old life touting for custom from the rich men of the town. Then she decided she was too tired to think clearly now. She lay down again and in a few minutes she was asleep.

Sal Evans thought she had found some of the luck Rhiannon Beynon had told her about. Next to her in the bed was a young buck, a clean, good-looking man who had taken her into the Paradise Park with him to spend the night. He had been very drunk but now he was sleeping like a baby.

Sal stretched her legs enjoying the warmth of the bed and the cosy feel of the blankets around her shoulders. This was better than sleeping on an old bench in a railway station. Her eyes grew heavy and she drifted off to sleep.

A heavy slap across her face woke her. She sat up, wide awake. The young man she'd slept with was kneeling before her, his face red with anger. ‘You whore!' he said. ‘You dirty stinking whore!' He hit her again, this time with his clenched fist. Sal reeled back from him in horror. Gone was the nice young buck of the night before: the man hitting her looked like a demon.

He lashed out again and his fist connected with her jaw, sending Sal sprawling onto the floor.

‘How dare you sleep in my bed, you dirty slut!' He climbed down and aimed a kick at her face. Sal curled up into a tight ball trying to protect herself. ‘I'll teach you to take advantage of a decent young man.' He kicked her again, his foot connecting with her stomach. Sal gasped in pain and tried to crawl towards the door. He caught her ankles, turned her over on her back and hit her across the face again. Sal thought she must be in a nightmare – how could this be happening to her? He continued to slap her until she gave up trying to protect herself. How long the beating went on she didn't know: a kick connected with her head and she lost consciousness.

When she came to, Sal's eyes were swollen so badly she could hardly see. Her body ached, and as she struggled to her feet she felt a trickle of blood run down her legs. The bastard! He must have raped her after the beating.

She staggered out of the room. She knew there was little point in complaining: no one would listen to a cheap whore. In the back-street she felt the early light touch her bruised face and it was then that she began to cry.

A COCK CROWING
outside the hut woke Rhiannon and she sat up, her heart pounding as she was transported back to her childhood. She was living in the tall, gloomy house and the lodger downstairs was keeping chickens in the back garden. One day she had asked him where the fluffy chicks that huddled in his kitchen near the fire had come from. His reply had been to lay her down in his room and demonstrate how they had been conceived. Rhiannon had lost her childhood innocence for ever.

She took a deep breath, shook away the painful memory and stared around her at the damp hut. The fire was low in the brazier and Rhiannon realized that she had not come very far since the days of her childhood. At least then she'd had a roof over her head and enough to eat. Now she had nothing but the memories of her sordid past to keep her company.

She swung her legs off the bed and pushed some sticks into the fire, shivering in the chill of the morning. She went to the window and looked outside. It was barely daylight and a thin mist hung over the silver of the railway track.

She returned to the fire and poked another batch of sticks into the flames. Soon the store would be gone and then she would have no means of keeping herself warm. She opened the battered cupboard door and searched inside, hoping to find some tea-leaves, but the cupboard was bare. Anything left there had doubtless been taken by one of the other camp-women.

She returned to the bed and sat down. She had been so settled here once, respected by the navvies because she was Bull Beynon's woman. She had loved him desperately. She pushed these thoughts aside. Looking back never did any good. She must find a job, however humble, or go back to the streets.

When daylight came Rhiannon looked about for her bag: she needed to dress in clean, fresh clothes if she was going to find employment. There was no sign of it. Someone must have crept into the hut during the night and taken it with her few possessions. It seemed as if the whole world was against her.

She twisted her hair into a knot and wrapped her shawl around her shoulders. Her skirt was creased but there was nothing she could do about it now. Slowly, the sun was coming up, bringing the landscape into full colour. Suddenly, in spite of her empty stomach, Rhiannon felt better. She would find some respectable work if it took her a month of Sundays.

She walked away from the railway line and down the hill towards the Stryd Fawr. A baker's van stood in the high street at the entrance to the Paradise Park Hotel and the smell of fresh bread made Rhiannon feel faint. She leaned against the window of the hotel and waited for her head to clear; she was just hungry, she had been hungry before but not in a long time.

‘Rhiannon!' The voice was familiar. ‘Rhiannon, are you all right?'

‘Katie Cullen, it's you.' Rhiannon rubbed her eyes, remembering that Katie was married now so she was no longer a Cullen. She had taken Bull Beynon as her husband. Rhiannon knew she should hate Katie for that but she'd always known Bull would leave her one day. ‘I'm all right, really. How are you?' She scarcely needed an answer because it was clear Katie was blooming. The soft swell of her stomach revealed that she was expecting Bull's child, and Rhiannon burst into tears.

‘Rhiannon, you don't look all right! What's wrong?' Katie touched her arm. ‘Come on, you can tell me. Perhaps I can help?'

‘What's wrong?' Rhiannon repeated flatly. ‘I'll tell you what's wrong, you've taken my man from me.' Katie's cheeks flooded with colour and Rhiannon held out her hand. ‘I'm sorry, that was stupid of me.'

‘
I
'm sorry it still upsets you about Bull and me,' Katie said. ‘I thought you might have got over it a bit by now.'

Rhiannon forced a smile. ‘Oh, I have, I was just being silly and childish. You heard that poor Mr Cookson died, didn't you, Katie?'

‘I heard, and I'm sorry. I'm sure you were very fond of him and it's only natural you miss him.'

‘I'm not that unselfish,' Rhiannon said. ‘I'm crying because I'm out of work, I'm hungry and I've spent the night in a damp hut with the rats.'

‘Oh, Rhiannon, I'm so sorry. What happened? Didn't Miss Cookson want to keep you on?'

Rhiannon shook her head and sagged against the window. Katie took her arm and glanced up at the windows of the Paradise Park Hotel. ‘We don't want to go in there. I'll take you up to the Mackworth. It's only a little way up the road and when we've eaten we can talk about finding work for you.'

Rhiannon allowed herself to be led into the softly carpeted foyer of the hotel, and here the smell of bacon made her mouth water. She was grateful when the waiter led them to a table and she could sit down – she felt as if her legs were about to collapse under her.

‘Tea and toast for two, please,' Katie said, and the waiter slid away. ‘Shouldn't be long bringing the food,' she went on. ‘There's hardly anyone in here besides us.'

‘Good.' Rhiannon made an attempt to smile. ‘If he takes too long I might just start to eat the tablecloth.'

By the time the food was put on the table she was hard put not to cram her mouth with the hot buttered toast. When she had finished, Katie pushed her plate across the table. ‘Go on, I've had enough breakfast as it is. I'm eating like a starving horse, these days.'

Rhiannon did as she was told, then leaned back in her chair. ‘I feel almost human again,' she said, wiping her lips with a thick damask napkin marked with the crest of the hotel.

‘Now we must find you a job,' Katie said. ‘We can't have you sleeping rough again tonight.'

‘Finding jobs is not so easy,' Rhiannon said, ‘not when you used to be a street-walker like me.'

‘That was a long time ago,' Katie said quickly. ‘Now, I heard my cook talking about a position going vacant at Mrs Buchan's place. How would that suit you?'

Rhiannon shook her head. ‘You know what a name Mrs Jayne Buchan's got for herself. I can't see her taking me on.'

‘I know she can be a bit of a Tartar,' Katie said, ‘but if you worked in the kitchen you wouldn't see much of her, would you? And it's a start.'

‘I know, and I'm grateful for the suggestion – but look at me.' Rhiannon gestured to her rumpled skirt and the bedraggled shawl around her shoulders.