The Shoemaker's Daughter (6 page)

‘The constables are coming,’ he said tersely as he moved back into the room. ‘I hope you are a good liar.’

Hari shook her head in fear and looked around her as though expecting a solution to present itself.

Gathering her wits, she hurried into the workshop and picked up a last and a half-tapped boot. Returning to the kitchen, she indicated with a nod of her head that Craig sit on the stool near the fire. She put the last in his lap. ‘Hold it between your knees,’ she hissed and then she stood behind him, leaning over his shoulder as though instructing him.

‘
Duw
, what’s this interruption then?’ Hari said as the door was pushed open, looking over her shoulder. ‘Oh, it’s you, Dai the Cop-shop, poking your nose in my business, is it? Well, since you are so interested, this is my cousin come from the Neath Valley to help in the business. Want to make anything of it then?’

The constable looked at Craig’s leather apron and rough flannel shirt and, at last, his eyes slid away from Hari’s challenging gaze.

‘Haven’t you always known me to be a respectable girl then, Dai?’ She leaned on Craig’s shoulder as if she’d known him all her life. ‘And don’t go making a noise and waking mam, now, I know she’s deaf but you lot sound like a herd of cattle, mind.’

Dai backed away. ‘All right, Hari Morgan, only doing my duty I am.’ He turned to look over his shoulder. ‘Nothing suspicious here, boys,’ he called, ‘get on with the search.’

For a long moment after the door had closed, Craig and Hari remained motionless, so close together that she could feel his breath against her cheek. His mouth, so strong beneath the dark moustache, was tantalizingly close. And then she moved and with trembling hands smoothed down her skirt.

Craig rose to his feet, placing the last on the table. ‘You are a very resourceful woman, Hari.’

‘It was nothing,’ she said quickly. ‘Sleep by the fire, you, I’m going to bed.’

As she lay between the sheets, Hari felt a great restlessness grip her, she thought of Craig’s face so close to hers and she could barely breathe for the confused emotions that raced through her. But, she told herself sternly, she was nothing but a foolish girl, men the like of Craig Grenfell were not for Hari Morgan.

Suddenly and inexplicably tears were running hot and bitter down her cheeks as Hari buried her face in the pillow and wept.

4

Emily Grenfell looked up from her book as the maid entered the room bobbing a swift curtsy, her face red with indignation.

‘What is it, Letty?’ Emily said, impatient at being disturbed. She hadn’t been reading at all but had been glancing out of the window not seeing the gracious gardens that surrounded Summer Lodge, but planning ways to help Craig when he came to her. And now that he’d escaped from that awful prison, come he would, she knew that as certainly as she knew daylight would follow darkness.

‘There’s a
girl
to see you, Miss Emily, insists on it she does, quite cheeky she is, mind.’ There was a world of disdain in the young maid’s voice.

Emily frowned. ‘Insists? Who
is
she exactly?’

‘The shoemaker’s daughter, miss, says she got a message from Mister Grenfell.’

Emily’s thoughts raced, could the girl possibly know anything about Craig?

‘Bring her in to me, I’ll soon sort out just what it is she wants,’ Emily said, rising to her feet and shaking the creases from her crinoline gown.

Letty seemed about to demur but Emily lifted her chin challengingly and the maid bobbed and left the room.

Emily paced around the book-lined study and blamed her father for his hostile attitude to Craig. It was that sort of attitude that would prevent Craig from coming to her directly for help.

Her father was kindness itself, but he was the sort of man who gave little credit to anyone who had fallen from grace.

Letty knocked and glancing up Emily saw a slight figure with a mass of dark hair following the maid into the room. The shoemaker’s daughter was pretty enough but poorly dressed with a Welsh shawl over her shoulders and not even a hat to cover her hair.

Emily waved her hand to Letty, ‘I’ll send for you when I want you.’ She moved towards a seat and regarded the girl steadily for a long moment. If she’d hoped to unnerve her the way she did Letty then she was wrong.

‘Yes?’ Emily said sharply, ‘What do you want?’

‘I’m Angharad Morgan,’ the girl began, her dark eyes challenging Emily to interrupt. ‘I was asked to bring you these papers.’

She brought from under her shawl an untidy sheaf of documents and handed them to Emily without so much as bobbing a polite curtsy.

Emily took them, glancing at them quickly. ‘So? These are sheets from an accounts book, what are they to me?’

The girl lowered her voice. ‘They might clear the name of Craig Grenfell. Anyway,’ she said challengingly, ‘he thought you’d be able to help him, perhaps he was wrong.’

Emily sank down into a chair and studied the pages closely, controlling the urge to slap the insolent hussy’s pretty face. On closer inspection it became clear there were two sets of figures for the same period of time for the Grenfell Leather Trading Company. The profit margin on one sheet was much lower than the other and Emily drew in her breath sharply. It was obvious that someone had robbed the company of a great deal of money and Craig was trusting her to find out who.

Emily frowned, ‘Have you looked at these?’ She glanced up at the girl standing before her and shook her head. ‘How silly of me, I don’t suppose you can even read let alone add all this up.’

‘Indeed I can!’ the girl answered with quiet confidence. ‘The figures mean that someone has been defrauding the company and it wasn’t Craig Grenfell because if you look at the dates you’ll see that the fiddling went on even when Craig was in prison.’ The girl fell silent as Emily approached her.

‘Mr Grenfell to you. And what do you know about him?’ Emily asked in a dangerously quiet voice. The girl shook her head.

‘You must get all this seen to properly if you want to clear Craig’s name, that’s all I know.’

Emily felt anger run through her. ‘How dare you try to tell
me
what to do?’ she spoke icily. ‘You are an ignorant, uneducated girl and now you’ve delivered your message, you’d better leave.’

Angharad Morgan lifted her head with an air of dignity that infuriated Emily still further. With a last disdainful look, the shoemaker’s daughter turned towards the door.

‘I’ve said my piece, it’s up to you.’ Her voice was controlled even as she lifted her hand to silence Emily. ‘I’m going, don’t worry.’

Emily caught her arm in sudden desperation. ‘If you know where Craig is you must tell me, don’t you understand, he and I are going to be married, I must see him.’

Angharad looked at her from under thick lashes. ‘Would you put him in danger then?’

‘Of course not.’ Emily straightened. ‘Very well, pass on the message that I
will
clear Mr Grenfell’s name.’ She smiled in triumph, ‘Then he will be back where he belongs, with his own kind.’

Emily didn’t know why she was being so defensive with this girl from the lower order in her simple garments and with her wild hair. Was it because the girl had something indomitable about her, a presence even?

Emily rang the bell and when Letty bobbed in the doorway, she spoke coldly.

‘See this woman out by the tradesman’s entrance. Oh and before you go, Miss Morgan, tell your father I shall no longer be requiring shoes from him, I will purchase my goods elsewhere.’

Angharad Morgan stared at her defiantly. ‘That won’t be possible,’ she spoke with dignity. ‘My father died some months ago and, as for me, I can find work from far more rewarding customers.’

At the door she turned. ‘I will bring the shoes I am making for you now, the ones with the amethysts as decoration and I will expect payment for the work I’ve done, mind. And there’s something you should know, the amethysts are stones of tranquillity, it might do you a bit of good to wear them.’

She smiled. ‘From now on you will have to find a shoemaker skilled enough to make the sort of shoes you like and you might find that difficult. You see the other shoemakers in Swansea are men and not interested in fiddly little slippers.
Bore da
, Miss Grenfell.’

As the door closed behind the girl, Emily somehow felt that she had been bested. Angharad Morgan had spirit and intelligence as well as beauty. Emily bit her lip, the girl was obviously in touch with Craig, perhaps they were even living in the same house.

Emily moved to the desk and sat down, spreading the pages of figures out before her. She must forget the girl and concentrate on helping Craig. She chewed her lip anxiously. It was clear that funds were being embezzled but who could be doing it? Could it possibly be the accountant Edward Morris?

Emily rubbed her eyes as the figures swam before her, that didn’t make sense. Edward was Craig’s friend, surely he wouldn’t have allowed Craig to go to prison in his place?

There were several other people who had access to the accounts, Spencer Grenfell for one. The two brothers had not always got along very well but in spite of their differences, Spencer would never do anything to harm the firm or his brother.

Emily drew a sheet of writing paper towards her and picking up the pen began to write . . .
Dear Spencer, there is something I think you should see
 . . .

Hari was angry as she walked back through the streets towards her home, Emily Grenfell was nothing but a snob, she thought everyone beneath her. It was infuriating to be told she was stupid. What did Emily Grenfell know about people like her?

A warmth filled her, Hari smiled as she thought of Craig Grenfell waiting for her, eager for news of what was happening to clear his name.

Hari smiled, she knew more than Emily, she knew where Craig was, and she was learning all about him, how kind he was and what a real gent he could be.

She had been surprised to find that he didn’t feel it beneath him to help her in the house. He got up early that first morning and lit the fire for her. He even made a pot of tea and poured her a cup when she got up for work. He’d even tried his hand at tapping boots, they were done with more enthusiasm than skill, but so far there had been no complaints from the customers.

She entered the kitchen from the back gate closing the door on the small yard with a click of finality. She had done her best for Craig, now it was up to his own kin to sort his problems out for him.

He was kneeling before the fire, his hands and face black with coal dust. Hari looked at him with raised eyebrows.

He smiled. ‘I’ve been out picking coal,’ he sat back on his heels and shrugged, ‘it’s not strictly legal of course, but I don’t think that matters in the circumstances.’

‘You must be more careful!’ Hari said quickly, ‘You could be recognized.’

He got to his feet. ‘I don’t think so,’ he said, ‘not looking like this.’

He stared at her as she shed her shawl and sank into a chair.

‘Well, Hari, what has happened?’ He rubbed his fingers through his hair and she could tell he was anxious.

‘It’ll be all right,’ she said at once, ‘I gave the sheets to Emily Grenfell herself, I know she’ll see that your name is cleared.’

‘Then what’s wrong?’ he said and she looked at him in surprise. He was very perceptive.

‘I seem to have lost myself a customer.’ Hari sank back in her chair. ‘Took a dislike to me, she did.’

‘Emily has a quick temper,’ Craig said, ‘but she’s fair minded and she’ll reconsider the situation, I’m sure.’

Hari said nothing, it was natural that he would take the part of Emily who was not only his cousin but was his promised bride. But Craig was wrong, to employ Hari as her shoemaker was something Emily would never reconsider.

There was a knock on the door and Craig tensed, his big hands clenching into fists.

‘It’s all right,’ Hari said quickly, ‘it’s most likely the rent man, he comes today.’ She smiled, ‘Don’t forget now, you’re my cousin from Neath come to help with the business, you’re big like my dad, could easily be his nephew and so long as you don’t open your mouth, it should be all right.’

Hari took the money out of the old cracked teapot she kept on the shelf, she had just enough for the rent and she smiled in relief. It was a good thing that Edward Morris had given her another order which he had insisted on paying for in advance.

Hari knew it was mostly done to help Craig and yet Edward Morris seemed to like her work a great deal. She hoped she would keep his custom once all this drama was over.

She opened the door and handed the money over and Mr Fisher wrote something in his book.

‘Got a visitor have you then, Angharad?’ The man looked at her carefully as she nodded.

‘News spreads fast, I suppose Dai the Cop is gossiping like an old woman again.’ She asked quickly, ‘Well, if it’s anybody else’s business I got my cousin staying here, nothing wrong in that is there, Mr Fisher?’

He closed his book with a snap and looked past Hari to where Craig was bending over the fire. His face was still covered in coal dust and he looked anything but a gent. Hari suppressed a smile.

‘No course not, Angharad, glad you got a bit of help, mind. You got enough to do with the business and looking after your mam and all.’

Hari breathed more easily, for a moment she wondered if the rent man suspected the truth about her visitor.

‘
Duw
,’ she said, ‘don’t you worry about that, now, my mam is no trouble, it’s just her legs are bad just now and that cough of hers is troublesome but she bears up well, mind.’

‘Give her my regards,’ Mr Fisher turned away, ‘see you next week Angharad.’

‘Righto, Mr Fisher, I’ll be here and if I’m not in the kitchen take the money from the old teapot.’

She closed the door and turned to see Craig leaning against the fireplace, his eyes shining through the coal dust.