The Shoemaker's Daughter (14 page)

She stood up and straightened her back. ‘Let’s have something to eat, William, then afterwards I’ll go and see Lewis, I expect he still lives down near the docks.’

William took a tack from between his teeth and hammered it into the leather and then picked up a file.

‘I’ll just tidy up these boots and then they’re ready to be delivered.’ He said smiling, ‘That’s one job off our hands.’

Hari felt the impulse to ruffle William’s hair but she knew he would resent being treated like the child he was, boys grew up quickly in the harsh realities of World’s End.

William insisted on accompanying Hari as she left the house and made her way towards the docks. It was not yet dark but soon it would be and then the town would come alive. Sailors from off the boats would be looking for a good time and public bars would resound to the sound of many voices.

William kept close to Hari’s side, though for his own protection or hers Hari wasn’t sure. She smiled down at him and realized that in the few weeks he’d been with her he had not only put on weight but had grown a few inches in height too. For the first time in his life, William was having enough food to eat and was not being beaten into submission by his bully of a father.

The boy was still obliged to give his earnings every week to his family, otherwise he would have been dragged unceremoniously home and that was something Hari would not allow.

‘There’s the Watts’s house down by there near the public bar.’ Hari pointed to the building tall and narrow sandwiched between two other houses. It looked neat and clean from the outside and the curtains were freshly washed.

Hari knocked on the door and after a time it was opened by an elderly lady who stared down at her with a frown.

‘If you’re begging, there’s nothing here for you,’ she said sharply and was just about to close the door in Hari’s face when Lewis appeared behind her.

‘Mam, for heaven’s sake don’t be so hasty.’ He smiled with dawning recognition. ‘It’s Angharad Morgan,’ he said smiling warmly, ‘my master’s daughter, come inside.’ He stepped back from the door.

‘Mam, this is the daughter of Dewi Morgan who taught me my trade.
Duw
, there’s sorry I was to hear of his death, a fine man was Dewi Morgan. Your mam’s gone too, Angharad, there’s sad for you.’ He led the way into a warm pleasant kitchen. ‘
And
you’ve grown up since last I saw you.’

Hari, aware of the admiration in Lewis’s eyes, felt her colour rising.

‘Sit down,’ Lewis said, ‘and who is this lad, then?’

‘William is my apprentice,’ Hari said, ‘and though he may look very young he’s a good cobbler and a great help to me.’

‘Glad to hear it,’ Lewis said smiling. ‘You stick with Angharad, my boy, she’s almost as good a cobbler as her father before her.’

‘She’s very clever,’ William said at once, ‘making lovely shoes she is for them actresses in the theatre.’

Mrs Watts sniffed disapprovingly, ‘Actresses, is it? Hussies the lot of them.’

‘Now mam, go and put the kettle on the fire and get our visitors a nice cup of tea.’ Lewis sat opposite Hari and she was suddenly aware of how handsome he was. Thick, dark hair curled around his face and his rolled-up sleeves revealed strong, well-muscled arms. He saw her regarding him and smiled.

‘You’ve changed a great deal, Angharad,’ he said, ‘you were just a little girl when I finished my apprenticeship and now look at you.’

Hari returned his smile, liking his friendliness and enjoying his open admiration. ‘Yes, look at me,’ she said ruefully pushing back her tangled hair and straightening her skirts.

‘Anyway,’ she said in what she hoped was a businesslike manner, ‘I’ve come to see if you can help me out on a special job.’

‘Oh?’ He looked at her questioningly and Hari leaned forward eagerly in her chair.

‘I’ve got rather a big order,’ she said, ‘mostly for slippers but one or two pairs of shoes I have to make in French calf.’

‘Expensive,’ Lewis said thoughtfully. ‘I hope your customer is prepared to pay you well.’

‘I think what I’m asking for a pair of shoes is fair enough though I am keeping the prices low as an incentive for my customers to come back for more.’

‘These are the theatre people?’ Lewis said. ‘Not best known for their reliability, mind, travelling about the country, never being in one place for more than a few weeks, got to be careful there.’

‘That’s my problem,’ Hari said firmly, ‘what I want from you is help in making the shoes, perhaps you could work a few evenings for me?’

Lewis leaned back in his chair as his mother came forward with the teapot, setting it on the china stand.

‘Why should I help you, Angharad, I’ve got my own job, mind, working for Maunders boot and shoe emporium. It’s long hours and when I get in I’ve seen enough shoes to last me a life-time.’

Hari thought quickly. ‘If I build up my business the way I hope I can, I may well need a partner. Just think, you’d be your own boss, up to a point, master of your own destiny, not slaving away for a pittance while someone else makes all the profit.’ She paused as Mrs Watts handed her a cup of tea.

‘Thank you for the tea,’ Hari said, trying to thaw the iciness of Mrs Watts’s expression. ‘It’s very kind of you to bother.’

‘No bother, just good manners.’ Mrs Watts sat in a deep chair in a dark corner of the room but Hari had the impression that the woman was like a cat sleeping with one eye open, watching everything that went on.

‘What have you to lose, Lewis?’ Hari returned to the attack, ‘A few hours of your time, that’s all.’

Lewis’s smile was full of charm. ‘I’ll think about it,’ he said. ‘Now, have one of mam’s Welsh cakes, beautiful they are, mind.’

Hari felt a rush of disappointment, she had expected Lewis to jump at the chance of earning some money but it seemed he was reluctant to take her venture seriously. Well, she would do it without him, if need be, she would not let this chance slip away from her.

When she left the Watts’s household, Hari rested her hand on William’s shoulder. ‘It seems I’ve failed to get myself a helper,’ she said. ‘I thought Lewis would agree straight away.’

‘He’ll agree,’ William said with conviction, ‘but in his own good time.’

‘What do you mean, Will?’ Hari asked in surprise. ‘In his own good time?’

‘It’s pride, see, not many men would like working for a lady, mind.’

Hari walked along in silence for a moment, breathing in the salt tang of sea air. ‘You know something, William?’ she said at last. ‘You are a very wise person.’

It was the next day that Lewis turned up at the door of the workshop his tools in a bag and his leather apron over his arm.

‘Right, then,’ he said smoothly, ‘where’s the French calf? It’s a long time since I’ve had some first-class leather to work with.’

Hari led him to the bench and watched as Lewis tied on his apron. He looked down at her, his expression sober. ‘If you are to go into this business in a big way, you want to think of buying in ready-made uppers for men’s boots, that would cut down the work a lot, mind.’

‘There’s something in that,’ Hari agreed, ‘but, for the moment, I have to concentrate on the ladies’ shoes so that they are ready for the people from the theatre to take with them when they move on to Somerset.’

‘They’re going to Somerset?’ Lewis said in surprise. ‘There’s a lot of good leather down that way, why aren’t they buying shoes from Mr Clark’s factory?’

‘It might just be,’ Hari said sharply, ‘that I am making something a little bit different, giving personal attention to what the ladies require in a way that a big factory could not do.’ She had read about Mr Clark since her visit to the theatre, he was doing very well and turning out shoes and boots of good quality.

‘Good point,’ Lewis said with a rueful smile. ‘I’ll consider myself put in my place.’

He sat down at the bench and picked up one of the patterns Hari had made on paper.

‘This the right size, you’ve checked with the customer?’

‘Lewis,’ Hari said in exasperation, ‘please give me credit for some sense, how do you think I’ve survived on my own since my father died? Certainly not by making the wrong size shoes.’

She settled herself beside him at the bench and took up the satin slippers she was decorating for Meg. ‘I must remember, no green beads,’ she said under her breath. ‘Green beads are unlucky.’

‘What?’ Lewis said and Hari smiled at him cheekily. ‘Just talking to myself, it’s the only way I can get any sensible conversation round here.’

Lewis pretended to be angry. ‘That’s nice, isn’t it?’ He appealed to William who was cutting leather at the other end of the bench. ‘I never thought I’d end up working for a bossy woman.’

Hari could almost feel the silence as the three of them worked industriously, cutting, stitching and shaping the leather into something beautiful. She sighed with satisfaction, the job was going to get done on time after all and that, she promised herself, was only the beginning.

10

The elegant drawing-room at Summer Lodge was filled with people; intruders who lifted priceless objects and studied them trying to assess their worth. One man, corpulent and a little seedy looking, took an occasional table and upended it, examining the workmanship with cool appraising eyes.

Emily felt a sudden anger at the way her home was being violated, how could she bear to have the things she’d held dear being haggled over like so much rubbish?

Already the auctioneer was positioned outside on the lawn, a table before him and a wooden gavel in his hand. Soon, her possessions would belong to strangers, the familiar well-loved objects that had surrounded her since childhood would be gone.

The summer sun spilled over the gardens, the trees swayed gently, the leaves rustling like soft, applauding hands. Emily sighed heavily, no more would she sit beneath those trees reading or idling away her days so carelessly as she had done, was it only a few short weeks ago?

The voice of the auctioneer rang out, hushing the expectant crowd. The bidding began and Emily turned away from the window, unable to watch.

People were drifting away from the house, moving into the garden. Wide crinolines brushed against the grass and men in fine suits made bids with a raised finger or a simple nod of the head. Emily found her gaze drawn irresistibly to the scene outside, she longed to rush to the auctioneer and put a stop to the proceedings.

She turned abruptly and moved quickly through the hallway, hearing from outside the open front door the sound of muted voices. A woman laughed, a carefree tinkling laugh and Emily paused in wonder, it seemed so long since she had felt like laughing. Suddenly she envied the unknown woman.

In the kitchen, Letty was standing near the black hob staring listlessly as the kettle hissed a rushing jet of steam towards her. The mistiness seemed to well from the maid’s eyes, but perhaps, Emily thought, she was being fanciful.

‘Let’s have some tea.’ Emily sat at the scrubbed table and the startled look on Letty’s face made her smile ruefully.

‘We are both going to get used to the old order being disrupted,’ she said softly. ‘I’m glad you are coming with me to Chapel Street, Letty, I know it’s only lodgings but it’s clean and respectable and it won’t be for long, I promise you.’

‘What’s going to happen to Summer Lodge, Miss Emily?’ Letty sniffed a little as she made the tea. ‘Will it have to be sold like all the other stuff?’

Emily shook her head. ‘No, it passes to the next male heir, that’s my cousin, Craig Grenfell.’ Emily sighed heavily, ‘It just isn’t fair!’

She had not been surprised to learn that the accountant Morris had been proved innocent of any crime and had pointed the finger at Spencer Grenfell. His accusations backed up with the evidence found by Craig would be enough to convict Spencer and send him to prison for some time, once his whereabouts were discovered, for Spencer seemed to have vanished from the face of the earth.

Emily had not called on Aunt Sophie recently, she wasn’t in the mood for visiting nor for the lecture her aunt would surely give her on humiliating the family by openly selling her possessions.

And if Emily had expected Craig to ride in on a white charger and save the day, she had been doomed to disappointment. He had left Swansea without even sending a message and, as empty day ran into empty day, Emily’s anger and resentment towards her cousin continued to grow.

No doubt Craig was ashamed to face her, he had allowed her father to be duped into losing everything and now Craig would benefit from Emily’s misfortune. He would inherit Summer Lodge. No wonder he wasn’t anxious to see her.

Emily drank the tea, suddenly aware of the incongruity of the situation: here she was, sitting in the kitchen like one of the servants, something that would have been unthinkable just a few weeks ago.

She rose restlessly and moved to the door. ‘I’m going up to London tomorrow, Letty,’ she said quickly, it was best she got things moving as soon as possible. ‘I have some business up in town. Perhaps while I’m away, you’ll see to moving our bags to Chapel Street, I’ll make sure you have some money for the cab.’

‘Yes, miss.’ Letty bobbed a curtsy and Emily smiled with a sudden feeling of gratitude towards the maid.

‘I think you can dispense with the formalities, Letty, curtsying would look out of place in a few rooms in a lodging house, don’t you think?’

‘If you say so, miss, but it’s going to be hard getting out of the habit, mind.’

Emily stood in the hallway for a moment staring into the garden, the sun still shone brightly and the inexorable voice of the auctioneer rose and fell in the summer air.

Emily turned and walked up the wide staircase, looking painfully at the bare walls where paintings of her ancestors had hung for generations. It would be hard to leave Summer Lodge but there was no other choice, it was no longer her home, it belonged to Craig Grenfell.