The Shoemaker's Daughter (22 page)
It was Hari who cried, hot tears that scalded her eyes, and William patted her awkwardly not knowing what to say. At last, Hari had dried her eyes and smiled ruefully at Will.
‘The tears are over now,
cariad
, we must try to make the best of our lives from now on.’
cariad
, we must try to make the best of our lives from now on.’
It was the next morning when Hari awoke to the sound of wailing that she had thought was in her dreams. She rubbed her eyes and, as the sound became a reality, she sat up in bed aware that the noises were coming from Emily’s rooms.
She hurried through the hall between the two sets of rooms and saw Letty standing near the door to Emily’s inner sanctum, uselessly wringing her hands.
‘What is it?’ Hari heard the fear in her own voice and tried to get a grip on herself.
‘In there.’ Letty gestured towards the sitting-room, her voice barely audible. Hari moved past her and saw that Emily was sitting in her chair shivering violently in spite of being fully clothed.
It was clear she had been there all night, her dress was crumpled and her hair hung untidily over her face.
Hari moved closer. ‘Emily?’ She leaned forward and touched Emily’s cheek with the back of her hand. Seeing the yellowness of Emily’s skin, Hari drew a deep breath. ‘Yellow Jack!’ she said softly.
Emily was burning with fever. Her eyes were staring, seeing nothing and her lips moved soundlessly.
‘She been right bad for days now, wouldn’t let me say nothing to you. Did you say it’s the yellow fever?’ Letty spoke fearfully, backing away from the door. ‘Oh my God, we’ll all be dead in a few days!’ Her voice rose hysterically, ‘I can’t stay here, I can’t.’
‘Stop it!’ Hari turned on her angrily. ‘Control yourself!’ She clenched her hands into fists, fighting her own fear.
‘Look, if you were going to get the sickness, you’d be as bad as Emily is now. Calm yourself, we’ll be all right, you’ll see, now run for the doctor, as quickly as you can.’
Letty took a shuddering breath. ‘I’m afraid to go out, Miss Hari. I can’t help it, please don’t send me into the streets.’
A quiet voice spoke from the doorway. ‘I’m not afraid, I’ll go.’
‘Oh, Will, there’s brave of you, I could kiss you!’ Hari said in relief and then smiled as William made a wry face. ‘But I won’t, don’t worry.’
She followed him to the door. ‘Tell Doctor Webber to come as soon as possible, explain that Emily Grenfell is sick and needs urgent attention.’
Will nodded. ‘I’ll run as fast as I can.’
Hari followed him down to the stairs and stood on the door watching as he sped along the silent street. The shops were closed and somewhere a church bell was ringing out yet another death.
Hari longed to walk down to the beach to feel the sea breezes against her face, to stare out towards the far horizon and distance herself from what was happening but Emily needed her and, with a sigh, Hari turned sharply and went into the gloom of the empty shop.
Determinedly, Hari began to roll up her sleeves, there was work to be done and only she was able to do it.
Craig was in Bristol when he read the news that Swansea had fallen prey to the sickness called yellow fever. The newspaper was careful not to raise panic among the people and the report was guarded mentioning only a few deaths. He sat at the table in the tap-room of the Bristol Arms and frowned as he wondered how far the epidemic had really spread.
Emily would be all right, he was sure of that, she may even have left Swansea and taken refuge in the country somewhere far from the crowds. But Hari, Craig could not believe she would run away from her responsibilities, she was made of sterner stuff, she would stay and fight to the bitter end to keep what she had worked so hard to achieve.
He rose to his feet so abruptly that he overturned his chair and the landlord who had been dozing in the afternoon sun opened his eyes lazily and having decided that nothing was amiss closed them again.
Craig moved to the bar. ‘Make up my bill.’ He spoke forcefully and the landlord was on his feet instantly, his air of indolence vanishing.
‘I’ll be leaving at once.’ Craig mounted the rickety stairs to his room and began to throw his belongings into a bag, he must get home, his business in Bristol had been concluded yesterday and the order he had taken for French calf was most satisfying.
A frown creased his brow, he had the orders all right, plenty of them but if the fever was to spread, he wondered how long it would be before the ships from abroad would refuse to enter British ports.
He picked up his bag and stared around the small, sparsely furnished room savouring for a moment the silence and the peacefulness of the countryside surrounding the inn on the outskirts of Bristol, then, with an unconscious squaring of his shoulders, Craig picked up his bag and made for the door.
Emily tossed and turned feverishly in her bed, her hands plucking at the covers and Hari, watching her, knew that the ministrations of the doctor however well meant were doing no good at all.
Hari moved away from the bed and put her hands over her eyes trying to recall what her mother had told her about the epidemic of fever that had occurred some seventeen years earlier when Hari was a child.
Mam had made up some herbal remedy, a concoction she had sworn by but, however hard she tried, Hari could not remember how to make the potion.
But she must do something, Emily was getting worse, she had grown thinner and there was an unnatural pallor to her skin. Hari bit her lip in anger at her own lack of knowledge.
‘Letty!’ she called and, as the girl came hesitantly into the room, Hari indicated that she take a chair.
‘You are going to sit with Emily,’ Hari said firmly, holding her hand up for silence as the maid would have protested. ‘Don’t argue, I’ve got to go out and I’m sure you’d rather be left here than go on an errand for me, wouldn’t you?’
Letty nodded sullenly, not at all pleased with the responsibility that had been laid squarely upon her shoulders.
Hari ignored the maid’s angry expression and hurried from the shop in Wind Street walking swiftly towards her old home at Wassail Square.
The house still bore the faded sign that her father had erected and the windows were still curtainless. The house looked even more neglected than when Hari had lived in it and she had to summon all her courage to knock on the door.
After a time, a woman came along the passageway and stared suspiciously at Hari.
‘What do you want?’ she demanded. ‘You don’t look like a beggar. Are you one of them do-gooders from the posh part of town? If so, clear off, we don’t want your sort around here.’
‘No,’ Hari spoke quickly as the woman moved to close the door in her face. ‘I’m Dewi Morgan’s daughter, the shoemaker, I used to live here.’
‘Oh aye, well what do you want?’ The woman didn’t sound quite so hostile and Hari smiled.
‘My mam had an old book, I wondered if it was still here in a cupboard or something.’
‘Doubt it, I chucked out a load of rubbish only last week.’ The woman shook her head. ‘Sorry, misses, can’t help you.’
‘Where?’ Hari asked. ‘Where did you put the rubbish?’
‘Out by the back, have a look if it’s that important, mind. Go round the back way, it may be in the yard, though I’m not promising anything.’
The door was closed and Hari stood biting her lip for a moment and then moved without hope towards the back yard. In the corner was a pile of rags, some bottles jutted from the heap and Hari could see bits of broken china strewn about the place.
She took up a stick and probed the pile of rubbish doubting that she would ever find the book of herbal remedies. After a moment, the stick probed something hard and, pushing aside the rags, Hari unearthed the green-covered book.
She shook the dust from it and flicked through the pages and saw with relief that it was still intact. She hurried back through the streets, trying to read as she walked.
Angelica, that’s what she needed, but would she be able to get any?
She turned towards the market knowing that some of the stall holders had herbs for sale, they would not be fresh herbs but ones that had been dried in the warmth of country kitchens.
‘They will have to do,’ Hari said under her breath. ‘One way or another, I am determined that Emily will get better.’
But as she hurried into the almost empty market, her hands holding the herbal book were trembling and she knew that she was afraid.
15
Hari ground the angelica root into a fine powder trying not to hear the soft moans that came from Emily’s dry lips. Swiftly, she mixed a few spoonfuls of treacle in the carduus water taken from the boiled leaves of the angelica and added a little wine, stirring vigorously.
She paused, looking at the potion anxiously, praying she had mixed it correctly for Emily’s life might depend on it.
‘Letty!’ she called, ‘have you mixed the mustard for the footbath?’
Letty came in from the kitchen with the bowl of hot water and stared vacantly at Hari who was lifting Emily’s head, encouraging her to drink the liquid in the cup.
‘Move the bedclothes, there’s a good girl,’ Hari instructed, ‘I’ll sit Emily up and you put the hot mustard cloths on her feet. Come on, don’t stand there looking stupid!’
With set mouth, Letty obeyed, touching with distaste the thin yellowed ankles of her mistress.
‘I’m not employed as a nurse, mind,’ Letty said truculently.
‘You won’t be employed as anything if you don’t pull yourself together,’ Hari retorted angrily.
Letty was silent but Hari knew by the hot colour in the maid’s face how annoyed she was at being ordered around by a mere shoemaker’s daughter.
Emily seemed to rest a little easier during the afternoon and Hari took the opportunity to catch up on a little sleep, the work could wait. She felt overwhelmingly tired and, as soon as she settled down in her bed, she was asleep.
It was dark when she woke to find William standing over her, a cup of steaming tea in his hand. Hari sat up at once, sleep banished.
‘What is it, Will, is Emily worse?’ Her tone was hoarse and fear washed over her in waves.
‘It’s not Emily, it’s Letty, she’s just sitting by the fire shivering.’
‘Oh God in heaven, what next!’ Hari took the tea, giving herself a moment to find the strength to face this new crisis. ‘Right then, Will,’ she pushed the bedclothes aside and slid out of bed, ‘let’s see what’s wrong.’
Letty was slumped forward in her chair crouching as near to the dying embers of the fire as she could get. Hari put her hand gently on the maid’s shoulder dismayed at the yellow tinge to her skin.
‘Letty,’ Hari said gently, ‘how do you feel?’
Letty looked up at her very slowly as though it was an effort to focus her mind on what was being said.
‘My eyes, they hurt so much,’ her voice was thin, ‘and my head aches and the pains are everywhere, in my chest, even in my legs. I got the sickness, haven’t I, Hari, I’m going to die?’
Hari touched Letty’s forehead, it was burning hot, the skin dry. ‘I’m going to give you some medicine,’ Hari said calmly, ‘you’ll feel much better when you’re tucked up in bed and don’t worry, I’ll look after you.’
Hari bit her lip as she poured some of the elixir made from angelica into a cup. ‘Drink this, Letty and then I’ll help you into your room, rest is all you need and you’ll be fine, you’ll see.’
‘I want the doctor,’ Letty said, ‘I want proper medicine, please Hari.’
‘All right,’ Hari said placatingly, ‘but drink this first and then when I’ve got you comfortable we’ll get Doctor Webber.’
Hari drew William towards the door. ‘Fetch the doctor for me, Will,’ she said in a low voice, ‘and then I want you to go to Edward Morris. Ask him can you stay with him till the sickness is past.’
‘I don’t want to leave you alone, mind,’ Will said. ‘I’ve faced the sickness before, remember.’
‘I know,’ Hari said, ‘but it would give me peace of mind, Will, please do as I ask.’
Will’s mouth trembled slightly and then, without another word, he turned and left the room. Hari stood for a moment, eyes closed, listening to the sounds of his footsteps ringing down the stairs and she felt suddenly as if she was now alone in the world.
Hari settled Letty into her bed, talking soothingly to her all the time but Letty’s eyes were closed now and Hari doubted if she could hear anything she was saying.
Hari sighed and then moved towards Emily’s room, almost dreading to go in. Emily was still asleep, her breathing seemed a little easier but then perhaps that was just wishful thinking. Hari covered Emily with the quilt, brushed a curl of hair from her face and then retreated to the kitchen to mend the fire.
It was almost an hour later when the doctor came, he was falsely cheerful but Hari could tell that he held out little hope for the recovery of Emily or her maid.
‘You are doing a splendid job with your home-made potions,’ he said, ‘you could do some good and you certainly won’t do any harm. But be prepared for a short period of improvement in the condition of your patients which is usually followed by a relapse and death. I’m sorry.’
Hari went with him to the door, the doctor appeared tired and upset. ‘The source of the infection has been confirmed,’ he said, ‘it was brought in by a ship to the North Dock. The
Hekla
stayed only a few days but it was long enough to bring the fever ashore.’
Hekla
stayed only a few days but it was long enough to bring the fever ashore.’
‘Does that mean shipping will not be admitted to the docks?’ Hari asked but the doctor shook his head.
‘No, it would take more than a few people falling sick to stop trade in our ports,’ he said ruefully, ‘there have been comparatively few deaths so far, hardly enough to cause concern.’ He smiled. ‘Except to the unfortunate ones who have to deal with the fever.’
When the doctor had left, Hari sank into a chair in the kitchen and stared down at her hands, not so long ago all she’d had to worry about was making designs for shoes, promoting Welsh calf and making a success of the business. Now here she was in charge of the lives of two women and the responsibility suddenly weighed very heavily on her.
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