The Shoemaker's Daughter (43 page)

It was imperative that, while he was in Bristol, Craig should see Mr Meyer. He was a good customer and Craig badly needed to move some of his stocks of leather.

Craig moved away from the office resigned to waiting another day. He was very conscious of his promise to Hari to be back in Swansea within the week but wait he must.

Reluctantly, he left the premises and stared along the street, wondering desperately how he could get in touch with Meyer. He went into the hotel next door and asked the elderly man behind the desk if he knew when Mr Meyer would be back.

‘He’s gone away,’ the man said and Craig hid his impatience.

‘I know that,’ he said, ‘but do you know when will he be returning?’ The man scratched his grizzled hair.

‘No, don’t know that, sir, them offices been shut up all week.’

Craig was thoughtful as he walked back to the inn where he had a room. He would give Mr Meyer until the weekend and if there was no sign of him by then, Craig would go back home.

In his room, he consulted his notebook, he still had four customers to visit, most of them in or around the Bristol area, but Mr Meyer was always ready to buy a big stock of leather, especially if it was French calf which he didn’t want the trouble of importing himself.

Craig threw himself on the bed and clasped his hands behind his head, thinking worriedly about Hari. She had looked so pale and desperate last time he’d seen her. She was just a little bit of a thing and the birth of the baby had taken the stuffing out of her.

At the thought of the boy, his face softened, David was fine and bonny, strong limbed and with a mop of dark hair, even Craig could see how much the boy resembled himself.

He sighed, it was a good thing that Hari had never told Edward the truth, especially now that he was so ill. He’d looked dreadful last time Craig had seen him. Edward had never been a robust man but the amount of weight he had lost had left him looking as though a puff of wind would blow him away.

Craig closed his eyes. Why hadn’t he married Hari himself a long time ago and then none of this mess would have happened. He could have brought Hari and the baby on the trip with him, turned it into a holiday for the three of them, a family outing. Craig doubted he would ever have a family now.

He thought of Elizabeth with a wry smile, they had both known from the start that nothing would ever come of their relationship even though Lady Caroline hinted enough times that they should be married. The only one he wanted to marry was Hari.

Craig became impatient with the way his thoughts kept returning to Hari and rose from the bed in one easy movement, he would go downstairs, enjoy a drink, forget all about his private life and even about the elusive Mr Meyer.

The room was full of cheerful voices and smoke drifted across the room and the fragrant smell of pipe tobacco mingled with the rich fruity smell of cider.

Craig sat at a table alone and after a time a woman came towards him, smiling a welcome. ‘Would you like a nice mug of cider and a bite to eat, sir?’ She was younger than Craig had first thought, her small face framed with curling hair, her mouth curved into a merry smile. The bodice of her dress was cut low to reveal full young breasts and Craig suddenly felt desire burn in his belly.

‘Just the cider,’ he said, leaning back in his chair. Her eyes looked him over with becoming impudence and then, turning, she moved gracefully away, fully aware that she was being watched.

She returned shortly with the cider and bent over him so that he could smell the fragrance of her. ‘Strong stuff this cider, sir,’ she said, ‘especially on an empty stomach.’

‘I feel like drowning my sorrows.’ Craig smiled at her and handed her some coins. ‘Make sure my mug is full so long as I need it.’

The cider tasted innocuous but, after a time, Craig began to feel the effects. The girl came towards him once more and smiled down at him.

‘Are you sure there’s nothing else I could give you that would bring you pleasure, sir?’ she asked cheekily. ‘My name is Berta, I’m telling you in case you want something brought to your room.’

‘Thank you, Berta,’ he said, ‘I’ll let you know.’

He put down the mug of cider half finished and knew it was time he went to bed. His head felt light like thistledown and he was having trouble focusing his gaze on the narrow staircase that led to the upper floor and his room.

Craig stood for a moment, staring out of the window, he was in a strange town among strangers and suddenly he felt the need to be home in Swansea. Tomorrow, he decided, he would pack up and leave, to hell with Meyer.

He stripped off his clothes and dropped them where he stood wanting only to fall into bed and find oblivion in sleep. The bed was hard but the bedclothes were clean and the room smelled sweet and yet, as he lay tossing and turning in the bed, sleep refused to come.

Craig was suddenly aware of the door opening and then he felt a warm naked body creeping into bed beside him. He reached out his hand and touched a bare breast and, instantly, he was aflame with desire.

‘It’s Berta, sir.’ The voice had the softness of the Bristol brogue and as warm arms entwined around his neck, Craig sighed softly, it seemed so long since he’d held a woman in his arms and though it was Hari he wanted, she was married to his best friend and out of reach.

‘Berta,’ he said thickly, ‘you are very beautiful.’ He buried his face in the warmth of her neck. She wriggled close to him and her hands upon his body were practised.

‘Have you had many men, Berta?’ he asked softly and she put a small hand over his mouth.

‘None as handsome as you, sir,’ she whispered in his ear.

Craig’s last feelings of reservation vanished, Berta was no shy virgin, she was a woman used to men and together they would fill each other’s needs, with no recriminations when the morning light filtered into the room. And, at this moment, that was all Craig wanted.

28

Hari sat in the silent kitchen, the papers spread out on the table before her like an unspoken threat. Accounts, Edward’s accounts detailing his income and expenditure over the past year.

Hari’s first shock had been to learn that the house in Chapel Street was rented not owned by Edward as he had led her to believe. Then, as she’d worked through his papers, she’d come to realize that there was very little money to spare, certainly not enough to cover the rent for any lengthy period of time.

The first bout of blind panic had subsided days ago when she had first brought herself to open Edward’s desk and go through his things. It had dawned on her only gradually that, once she had paid outstanding bills, she would not be able to afford to live in Chapel Street.

And yet, like the business woman she was, Hari had come to a decision, she would cut her losses, leave the house as soon as possible and move into suitable lodgings. At least in that way her own expenditure would be cut dramatically and she would survive until she sorted out her business once more.

Hari rose from her chair and moved to the window, clasping her hands together. She felt friendless for William, who was usually a tower of strength, was still lying near to death in the hospital. It all seemed like a terrible nightmare.

Hari sighed, she had already given the servants notice, the maids had left at once, once paid, they saw no reason to delay. And in her heart Hari could not blame them, they too needed the security of a roof over their heads.

Hari wondered now at her complete lack of foresight, Craig had tried to warn her about sorting out her affairs. Why hadn’t she discussed finances with Edward before he was sick? She would have realized then that Edward had nothing but the wages he earned at work.

She wished she could confide in someone, talk out her problems but Charlie and Meg were out of town, gone back to Ireland where Meg had been born to visit her family. In any case, they had done more than enough for her, helping her with the funeral.

Well, she would solve nothing waiting here in the house that was no longer her home, she must get out, find new, cheap lodgings with the small amount of money she had left.

David was awake in his bed, Hari lifted him in her arms and held him close, his hair silky against her chin. She closed her eyes, in spite of everything, the shock of Edward’s death, the impending loss of her home, she still had her son and for his sake she would rebuild her life.

She wondered briefly and painfully about Craig’s absence, then she pushed the thought aside. He had not come to her as he had promised which must mean he had more important things to do with his life.

It was Cleg the Coal who told Hari of the rooms that were going vacant. She called there to deliver his boots, they had taken such hard wear that they needed tapping again.

‘
Duw
, come in Hari, there’s good it is to see you, sit down by here and have a cup of tea.’ Cleg blackened by coal ushered her into the kitchen. ‘Beatie, get this girl a cup of tea she looks fair washed out.’

Beatie quickly poured tea from the huge brown pot and set it before Hari. ‘Cleg’s right, you look awful.’ She sat down beside Hari. ‘There’s sorry I was to hear about your hubby, sudden like, was it?’

Hari nodded, touched by the gestures of kindness. She drank the tea thirstily and felt a little better.

‘I’m looking for rooms,’ Hari said. ‘I need to leave Chapel Street as soon as possible, the house would be too expensive for me to keep up.’

‘I may know of somewhere,’ Cleg said, ‘I’ve got one more load of coal to deliver, Hari, but I’ll see you when I get back, right?’ He nodded to his wife. ‘See you later, love.’

Beatie cut a slice of bread and placed it with a portion of cheese on a plate in front of Hari. She returned to the hob and ladled some warm porridge into a bowl.

‘There, the little one will like that, my boys do.’ She looked down at Hari in sympathy.

The women chatted about everything and nothing and it was a relief to Hari to forget her problems if only for a short time.

Cleg returned to the house with a slamming of the door. ‘Thank the Lord that’s my work over for the day.’ He smiled at Hari.

‘The rooms I told you about, they are still vacant. Not posh, mind.’

‘Tell me more,’ Hari said, ‘so long as the place is clean and respectable I’ll take it.’

‘It’s in the house of a customer of mine, Hetty Blake, she lets out rooms not far from your old place where you was brought up. Nice woman she is, but the place she’s living in got a bad name.’

Hari smiled. ‘Can’t have a worse name than World’s End, I don’t think.’

‘
Duw
,’ Beatie broke in, ‘Hetty is a friend of mine, why didn’t you say who you had in mind Cleg? Do anything for me would Hetty. Mind, there’s wicked women down there in them bad houses, you know.’ Beatie glanced at her sons playing in the doorway and lowered her voice. ‘They have men in all times of the night and day. But I know Hetty isn’t like that, mind, she’s good and respectable, takes in washing she does as well as letting rooms, hard working is Hetty.’

‘I’m sure I’ll be all right there,’ Hari said positively. David, satisfied with his bowl of porridge, had fallen asleep. ‘I’m feeling more cheerful already,’ Hari said smiling.

‘Well me and Cleg, we owe you a favour, we haven’t forgotten how kind you were making those special boots for our eldest.’ She glanced at her husband.

‘Shall I take Hari round to Salthouse Passage then, Cleg?’ She glanced at Hari, ‘You’d best see the place right away in case the rooms get let to someone else.

‘Look after the boys for us,’ Beatie said, ‘little David is fasto and I promise I won’t be long, just there and back.’

‘Aye, I’ve heard that before,’ Cleg said smiling, ‘you’ll have a cup of tea with Hetty then another one and a few hours will pass before you know it. Aw all right, go on then.’

Beatie flashed him a look, ‘I’ll be out of there before dark, boyo,’ she said firmly, ‘have no worries on that score.’

Cleg laughed, ‘I don’t know, why don’t you make a few bob while you are down there.’ He pinched her cheek playfully, ‘but then, I suppose you wouldn’t get many customers!’

‘I’ll ignore that,’ Beatie said haughtily but her eyes were full of laughter. ‘Come on Hari, take no notice of this big oaf of mine.’

Together, they walked down the street and Hari felt a sense of unreality, she was taking a step backwards and yet it was only a temporary setback, she would make sure of that.

‘How far is Salthouse Passage?’ she asked and Beatie glanced at her.

‘Not far, feet killing you are they?’ she added sympathetically.

Hari smiled, ‘As a shoemaker, I shouldn’t admit it but I think I’ve got a hole coming in one of my soles.’

‘For shame, Hari!’ Beatie said jovially, ‘but at least you can tap it yourself.’

‘Yes, I can, can’t I?’ Hari suddenly felt more hopeful, she still had the skill of the shoemaker at her fingertips and a last and some leather was all she needed to make a living mending soles and heels.

The roads grew meaner, the houses, cramped together in tiny courts and passages, were tall and dark and depressing. Salthouse Passage was no different to the others except that outside one of the buildings a woman, painted and powdered, advertised her trade. Somehow, it all looked strangely familiar to Hari though she couldn’t imagine she’d been here before for any reason.

Hetty was a large, imposing woman with a round, scrubbed honest face. Hari liked her at once.

‘Hari is a friend of mine,’ Beatie said at once as the woman led the way through a long dark passage into the kitchen where a cheerful fire burned in the grate. ‘She’s looking for a room, I think my Cleg asked you about it?’

Hetty took in Hari’s good if unpretentious clothes and, after a moment, she nodded.

‘Aye, he did. Got a babby though, haven’t you?’ She didn’t wait for a reply but carried on speaking. ‘Had none of my own, mind,’ she said seating herself in an armchair, plump legs spread to the blaze of the fire forming a huge lap of her knees.