The Shoemaker's Daughter (11 page)

Hari moved away from him, her cheeks hot with embarrassment and anger. ‘He has been a perfect gentleman,’ she said quickly.

‘I’m so pleased to hear it.’ Edward smiled warmly, ‘Because I have something to tell you. I came searching for you at the shop and one of your neighbours told me she’d seen you come this way.’

He paused and touched her hand. ‘I have to tell you that Craig will not be bothering you any longer, he has found somewhere else to stay.’

‘I see.’ She paused, her head bent, ‘There’s strange, because I’d made up my mind to tell him to go anyway.’

‘That’s all right then.’ Edward’s grip on her hand tightened. ‘You have been very brave, Miss Morgan, and I want you to know that both Craig and I are very grateful, a gratitude that will be shown in practical terms as soon as possible.’

‘I don’t want any charity,’ Hari said at once, her chin lifted, her eyes angry. So Craig would pay her off, would he, leave her house without any word of his departure? She shrugged. What else could you expect from the gentry?

‘I was thinking more in terms of work, not charity,’ Edward smiled and lifted his hat. ‘I feel sure I can persuade some of my friends how good you are. Now, may I walk you home?’

‘No, thank you,’ Hari said quickly, she wanted to be alone to sort out her muddled thoughts.

‘Well then, good day, Miss Morgan, I hope to see you again quite soon.’

He walked away across the uneven ground and, as Hari watched him, she felt her anger subside leaving only the dull ache of disappointment. If only Craig had come to her, told her what he intended to do, left her a small message even. She sighed and turned away from the graveyard, drawing her shawl closer around her shoulders. It was getting cold, time she went home.

Once inside the house, Hari lit the candle and sank down at the table, her eyes heavy with tiredness and unshed tears. The silence closed in around her and her loneliness was almost tangible. Craig had been staying with her for some weeks now and she had grown used to seeing him there in her kitchen.

She had known that she was playing with fire, her own emotions had been awakened and she no longer trusted herself to be level-headed where Craig was concerned and yet wasn’t that half-fearful desire a challenge, a part of the fascination she felt for Craig Grenfell?

Well, he was gone now and she would probably never see him again. Slowly, she rose and pushed the kettle on to the flames, she would make herself a cup of hot sweet tea and then she would go to bed.

She was crouching near the dying fire, hands around the cup for warmth, when she heard a scratching sound at the door. She lifted her head, listening, all her senses alert. The sound was repeated. Craig, he had returned.

She rose and hurried to the door and opening it saw not Craig but the small figure of Will Davies crouching in the street. She drew him inside and led him towards the candle-light. It was clear he had been beaten, his face was bruised and his ragged clothing was hanging from him.

‘What happened, Will?’ Hari asked softly and the small boy shook his head.

‘Nothing different, miss, dad came home from the inn and took his belt to me.’ He shook his head. ‘Can’t stay there, see, he’ll kill me in the end.’ He sank on to the floor, hugging his knees. ‘Can I stay by here, miss? I’ll work and I’ll be no trouble.’

Hari took a deep breath. ‘Of course you can stay, William, we’ll sort something out.’ She clasped her hands together and tried to think.

‘I’d like to have you as my apprentice but would your father be willing?’

Will’s pinched face brightened. ‘I got a job, see, working in Jonah’s bakery, hate it I do, sweeping up the floor and chasing the mice away and, worst of all, I has to get inside the ovens and clean them. For that, I gets a whole sixpence a week.’

His face fell. ‘But my dad takes that.’ He paused. ‘If I had a bit more pay, he would let me come to you, you would have to keep me in grub if I was an apprentice wouldn’t you? But I would have to give the money to him, mind.’

‘How old are you, Will?’ Hari asked, feeling pity for the boy wash over her.

‘I think I’m nine, miss,’ Will said doubtfully, ‘perhaps ten, I don’t rightly know.’

‘Have you never been to school?’ Hari asked softly and when the boy shook his head, Hari sighed. ‘Well,’ she said trying to sound confident. ‘I know my father’s apprentices used to get quite good money but then I can’t afford the proper rate. I think I could pay you two shillings a week for the first year and we’d have to see how things went. I don’t know if I could ever afford to give you more.’ She took a deep breath. ‘But, if we can turn out plenty of work between us, we should manage nicely.’

Hari knew that the two shillings a week would be crippling unless Edward Morris lived up to his promise of bringing in extra business. And then of course there was the promise of repairs from Dai Jones and his four sons, that prospect offered some hope.

‘I’ll tell my dad in the morning.’ Will’s young face was grave, ‘The ale will have worn off him by then.’

On an impulse, Hari hugged Will and then with a grimace held him away from her.

‘One thing I must insist on, my boy,’ she said, ‘a good wash and then a hair cut. I’ll get you some clothes from Ma Popits so at least you won’t put the customers off.’

The boy smiled cheerfully. ‘I could steal some things out of the rich folks’ washhouses, mind. Done it before I have.’

‘No,’ Hari said sternly, ‘there’ll be no stealing, you must promise me that.’

‘Why not?’ The boy was genuinely puzzled. He looked up at Hari his eyes wide.

‘Look,’ Hari pushed the kettle on the fire and then sat down and faced Will, her hands clasped together. ‘Our customers must trust us. We should be able to go into the big houses and let the gentry know that we are honest, that’s the only way they’ll give us their business. We must keep up our good name, right Will?’

‘Righto, Miss Morgan.’ He still sounded doubtful and Hari smiled.

‘Remember when you were delivering boots for me and that boy took them from you, how did you feel then, Will?’

‘
Daro!
I was mad with him, could have battered him into the ground I could if I was strong enough.’

‘Why did you feel like that, do you think?’ Hari said watching the young boy’s face. He frowned.

‘Cos he took them boots and it was my job to take them to the big house for the gentleman.’ He looked at Hari, ‘And I didn’t want it to look bad for you.’

‘That’s it, Will, if we are dishonest, it looks bad for me and soon I wouldn’t have any more customers.’ She rose to her feet.

‘Right now, I’m going to fill the big bowl with nice hot water and you are going to have a scrub and I want every bit of you to be clean, mind, including your hair.’

Hari left the boy while she went to search upstairs for one of her father’s night-shirts. They were yellow with age and patched many times but at least the boy would be clean and warm. Tomorrow Hari would go to Ma Popits first thing and see what cast-off clothing she could buy for young Will.

When she entered the kitchen, she stood still, the night-shirt slipping from her fingers. Will was standing in the bowl of water and Craig Grenfell was kneeling before the boy, scrubbing him thoroughly with a piece of flannel.

‘What are you doing here, Craig?’ she asked. ‘I thought you weren’t coming back.’

‘Just a quick visit,’ he replied looking up at her briefly. ‘I came to say goodbye and to thank you for all you’ve done.’

‘Second thoughts, was it?’ She moved towards him and he patted the boy on the shoulder as he rose to his feet.

‘No, I just wanted to say goodbye in person.’

‘Goodbye,’ Hari said unforgivingly. He stared at her for a moment and then shrugged and moved out of the kitchen and towards the back door. Hari followed him, suddenly flustered.

‘Thank you for coming,’ she said, ‘but please don’t wait around any longer. I don’t think you should have come here at all.’ She looked up at him, he was very handsome in the moonlight.

‘You have somewhere else to stay now so you needn’t risk coming here again.’ Her words were an implied criticism and he read her well.

‘Hari, I’m sorry.’ He took her by the shoulders and his face was very close to hers. She longed to reach out to him, to draw his lips on to hers. She almost succumbed but then common sense came to her aid.

‘I was going to ask you to leave anyway.’ Her harsh words fell into the silence. ‘I don’t see why I should take any more risks for a man I hardly know.’

He looked down at her, his face tightening and then, so suddenly that she had no time to read his intentions, he pulled her to him.

His lips hovered for a moment above hers and then he was kissing her, his mouth hot against hers. Hari could not breathe, she felt lost in a flurry of emotions. Love flared through her, she felt desire and sadness too because she knew this was a fleeting moment.

She allowed herself to cling to Craig’s broad shoulders, she pressed close to him, her lips parting under his. It was a moment of magic that she must cherish for it would never come again.

A hammering on the door startled Hari and, abruptly, she moved from Craig’s arms. ‘Get away from here!’ she said sharply, ‘go out through the back yard, God knows who could be hammering my door this time of night.’

As Craig disappeared into the darkness, Hari hurried into the kitchen. William was crouched before the fire, dressed in the too-long night-shirt. His face was pale as he stared wide-eyed towards the door.

‘What if it’s my dad?’ he asked fearfully. Hari straightened her shawl with trembling fingers and moved towards the door.

‘Who is there?’ she called and waited with a feeling of dread.

‘It’s Dai the Cop, open up, Hari girl, or I’ll have to break the door in.’

Hari flung the door wide. ‘
Duw
. No need for violence, mind, but no woman alone opens the door to anybody, not at this time of night and in a place like World’s End.’

‘Enough of playing the innocent.’ A big constable elbowed his way past a sheepish-looking Dai and stared suspiciously round the room. ‘Where is this supposed cousin of yours?’ He spoke aggressively.

‘He hasn’t been here for some time,’ Hari answered. ‘Why, what has he done?’

‘I don’t think this man was a cousin at all, indeed, I think you’ve been harbouring a criminal from jail.’ The constable towered over her. ‘Tell me Miss Morgan, where are you hiding him? He was seen coming here tonight so don’t deny it.’

‘No,’ Hari shook her head. ‘You are mistaken, there’s only me and young William here, look around if you don’t believe me.’

‘I will, be sure I will.’ The man nodded and behind him Dai gave a shrug of resignation and began to search the small house.

‘You,’ the constable pointed to Will, ‘what have you seen, was there a man here a few minutes ago or not?’

Will licked his lips and looked uncertainly towards Hari. She thought of the lecture she had just read him on honesty and trembled.

‘No-one has been here only me and Miss Morgan, just been bathing me, she has, see?’ He pointed to the cooling water.

The constable closed his lips in a firm line and made his way through to the yard. Hari heard him beating at the bushes with his truncheon and then he opened the door to the workshop. After a few moments he returned.

‘You have been sailing very close to the wind, miss,’ he said as Dai returned to the room. He pointed his truncheon at her. ‘This house will be watched, make no mistake about it, we shall be out for blood.’

Hari sighed in relief as the door closed behind the men. She sank into the chair, her hands over her eyes.

‘I did right, didn’t I, miss?’ Will said anxiously. ‘It is right to tell lies sometimes, isn’t it?’

Hari held out her arms and drew him close. ‘Aye, it’s right to tell a lie to protect a friend, Will, it is necessary to lie sometimes.’

She took a deep breath. ‘Right, let’s make you a bed on the couch, is it? I’ll fetch you some blankets from upstairs and I’ll put a bit more coal on the fire to keep you warm, just for tonight. Tomorrow I’ll clean out mam’s bedroom for you.’

She smiled at him softly, he looked so young and vulnerable in the too-big night-shirt, a child who until now had borne the responsibilities of a man.

‘Well done, Will,’ she said, as she hurried from the room. There was a constriction in her throat and her eyes were brimming with tears. Though if they were for young William or for herself, she could not be sure.

8

Summer Lodge was in mourning, dark drapes were closed against the pale, spring sunshine and the gloom within the rooms was accentuated by the soft sound of women weeping.

Emily, entering the drawing-room, stood for a moment, watching her aunts in their black mourning silk and jet beads and, for a moment, they appeared like birds of prey, dark and menacing in the dim light.

The family had gathered to mourn the death of Thomas Grenfell, weighed down by the shame of losing all his money, overcome by a sickness that he had no will to resist.

Pride gave a lift to Emily’s chin as she braced herself to move further into the room and greet her kinswomen.

‘Emily, my poor child, what will you do with no-one to protect you against the world?’ Aunt Sophie embraced her warmly and the soft scent of lavender rose from the pleated bodice of her gown.

‘Don’t worry about me, aunt,’ Emily forced a note of firmness into her voice. ‘I am quite capable of taking care of myself.’

‘Nonsense, you are little more than a slip of a girl, you would be prey to all sorts of men, fortune hunters and the like. You need someone to look after you.’

‘You forget, aunt, I have no fortune,’ Emily said, secretly appalled at the prospect of being ‘looked after’ by her well-intentioned aunt. ‘I shall be all right.’

‘But the business,’ Aunt Sophie said in dismay, ‘what are you to do about that?’ She patted Emily’s shoulder, ‘We all know that our dear Thomas’s affairs were not . . . settled. Let Spencer help you, my dear, my youngest son always did have a good head for figures.’