The Wild Seed (30 page)

Bethan saw that he was immersed in a newspaper and she studied him for a moment noting his youth and his clear pale complexion. He would be very easy to manipulate, she had no doubt.

‘Mr Cullen?’ She spoke gently, almost hesitantly and he was on his feet immediately offering her his chair. She sat on the edge of the chair as if she was nervous and when she spoke again, it was with a tremor in her voice.

‘I’m sorry to intrude like this but I had no choice.’ She glanced up at him from under her lashes and saw a look of concern on his face that gladdened her heart; this was going to be easier than she had anticipated.

‘I’m Mrs Hopkins, Boyo is my husband.’ She swallowed hard, congratulating herself on the effect she was having on the young man. She drew a shuddering breath before speaking again.

‘He urged me to buy Honey’s Farm in my name but he put up the money. He has a moral right to the place. What I fear is that it will become a love-nest for him and for his … his …’ she broke off and fumbled in her bag for a handkerchief.

‘Please, can I get you something, a glass of water, tea? To be sure, you look very pale.’ Liam Cullen was bending over her and Bethan sat up straighter.

‘I’ll be all right, all I need is your co-operation.’

‘In what way?’ Liam asked taking a chair and drawing it closer to her.

‘Bide your time, call off your ideas of an inquiry.’ She dabbed at her eyes. ‘I know that Miss O’Conner wishes to live at the farm with my husband and that is what I do not want. I want him back, Mr Cullen.’

She saw the rush of mixed emotions on the young man’s face and she felt a sense of triumph. She remained silent, waiting for him to speak.

‘But how will biding my time help? Sure I can’t see the sense in that, begging your pardon, Mrs Hopkins.’ Liam Cullen spoke doubtfully.

‘I fancy that if they live together they will soon learn how mismatched they are. If I have time on my side perhaps I can win him from her. He thinks they’ll be happy together but it will not work, not in the long run.’ She paused, ‘One thing is certain, if obstacles are put in their path they will fight all the harder to be together.’

‘And you feel that by demanding an inquiry, I will drive them into each other’s arms,’ Liam said in his soft Irish brogue.

Her lips trembled, a masterly touch, she felt. ‘Yes, don’t you agree?’ She paused and looked up at him waiting for a reply. When there was none forthcoming, she continued speaking.

‘Catherine O’Conner wants Honey’s Farm, she also wants my husband, this way she can enjoy them both.’

Liam rose and paced across the room, his hands thrust into his pockets, his brow furrowed. At last he came to stand before her, looking down at her in a way that made Bethan feel uncomfortable.

‘You know what I think, Mrs Hopkins?’ Liam spoke softly, leaning towards her and, instinctively, she pressed herself back into her chair. ‘I think you wanted this farm very badly and you used every trick in the book to get it.’

Bethan rose and looked down at her feet. ‘I am sorry but you have misread my intentions.’ It was imperative that she kept up the façade of a woman in trouble, pleading for help. ‘You must do whatever you think fit, of course. I am just sorry I have taken up your time.’

She left the hotel and made her way back into the street clenching her hands into fists. She stood for a moment looking across the busy road, hearing the roar of the traffic, without really noticing the noise. So Liam Cullen was not as gullible as she had imagined. Well, now she would have to adopt stronger measures to persuade him of the folly of his ways.

She smiled to herself, there was more than one way to skin a rabbit. She realized she was enjoying the sensation of doing battle, she felt charged with life as she had not been in a long time. She was changing, she was aware of that. She had never been a prissy miss, she had always had the courage of her convictions but marriage had softened the edges of her character, happiness had made her a nicer woman, or should she say a more malleable woman? Well, she would not be manipulated any longer, she had bought Honey’s Farm and, shortly, she would offload it. Liam Cullen did not yet realize it but he had arrived on the scene just a little too late.

Liam sat for a long time, staring into the empty sitting-room, unaware of the furniture or of the sunshine slanting in the window, unaware of the sound of the birds in the garden or the tinkle of teacups from the dining-room. He was pondering over his conversation with Mrs Hopkins, she had been out to fool him into delaying his hand, keeping quiet until whatever plan she was hatching was complete.

Yet on reflection, it did make sense that Catherine would want to keep Honey’s Farm and if that entailed selling herself to a married man, then perhaps that was a sacrifice she was willing to make.

He frowned, would it be a sacrifice or did she want to be with this man, whatever it cost her? He was restless, his efforts to find her had come to nought, it might well be that she did not wish to be found. But if only he could talk to her again, try to persuade her that he could offer her not only a successful farm in Ireland but the respectability of marriage too.

The most likely way to find Catherine was to seek out Hopkins. If Boyo’s wife had told even a fraction of the truth, then her husband would know exactly where Catherine was.

Liam could not find Seamus anywhere in the hotel, the lawyer must be out working on his case, perhaps he would have more information by the time they met up again in the evening.

Outside, the pavement was damp with rain but the shower had been brief and now vapour was rising into the air as the sun warmed the streets.

Liam raised his hand to summon one of the cabs that stood waiting outside the hotel. As he climbed aboard, he gave the driver the address of Hopkins’s offices in town and then sank back in his seat. Something was very wrong, his uneasiness was growing, he had a gut feeling that Catherine was not with Hopkins but soon he would prove it one way or another.

Hopkins agreed to see him immediately which came as a surprise to Liam. He had expected to be kept waiting in the elegant hallway of the ornate old building. As he rose and made his way towards the inner office, Liam could not help noticing the rich panelling and the patina on the old wood that covered the walls of the corridors. It was clear that Boyo Hopkins was a very rich man indeed.

Boyo did not rise to greet him, he simply gestured for Liam to take a seat on the opposite side of his enormous desk. He appeared relaxed, in complete control of the situation and why shouldn’t he, the man was holding all the cards?

‘How can I help you?’ He spoke strongly in a fine English accent that denoted a man of letters and yet had he not once been just a simple tannery worker? In spite of himself, Liam found he had a grudging admiration for Hopkins.

‘I want to know where Catherine is,’ Liam said, his voice giving nothing away. If Hopkins could play his cards close to his chest then so could he, Liam thought.

‘You have echoed my own thoughts exactly.’ The answer was quietly spoken but rang with truth. Liam frowned.

‘Then she is not with you?’

‘I only wish she was.’ Hopkins was still relaxed but his eyes were alive, taking everything in. ‘What made you think I would know where Catherine was hiding herself?’

‘Is that what she’s doing then, hiding herself?’ It was like a game of cat and mouse, neither man willing to give too much away.

‘You tell me. Look, Mr Cullen, I don’t know why you are here. If I knew where Catherine was I would be with her, it’s as simple as that.’

‘Are you not concerned with finding her, then?’ Liam asked, his composure slipping a little.

‘Of course I am concerned. I have tried to trace Catherine without success. I had almost come round to believing she was with you.’

‘It seems we were both barking up the wrong tree.’ Liam leaned forward.

‘Your wife came to me, begging me to call off my inquiry into the sale of Honey’s Farm. Why did she do that, have you any idea?’

Boyo’s eyes narrowed. ‘I have no idea and I am not in the mood to speculate on what my wife does. I would appreciate it if you would keep my wife out of this.’

‘How can I? She told me that you and Catherine wished to set up home on the farm, is that true?’

‘I would like nothing better than to set up home with Catherine but it would not be on a farm, I assure you.’ He rose, he was a big man, well-built, handsome, no wonder Catherine was in love with him.

‘I suggest we conclude this meeting, neither of us appears to be gaining anything from it.’

Liam rose and walked to the door. There, he turned and looked back at Hopkins. ‘Sure ’tis an awful thing to ache to hold a woman in your arms again, to make love to her – again.’

He saw Hopkins wince at his words and Liam knew that his barb had struck home. ‘Why don’t you keep out of her life?’ Liam’s tone was harsh. ‘I offered Catherine the one thing you could not, a respectable marriage.’ Liam wanted to turn the knife, ‘She was sweet and loving and I want to taste that again. I want her to bear my children. I want to put a ring on her finger.’

Boyo was staring at him with anger. ‘Are you sure you do not mean through her nose?’ he said. ‘Now good day to you, Mr Cullen, you have taken up enough of my time.’

Liam left the office feeling his satisfaction fade, what had he gained? Nothing except to score a cheap point over a man who quite obviously loved Catherine as much as he did, judging by the expression in his eyes.

Liam looked around wishing he had the power of second sight, the power to search out Catherine with his mind and bring her to him from wherever she was. A dray rumbled past him, too close for comfort and turning, Liam began to walk back to his hotel.

As he entered the faded portals of the Castle Hotel he was confronted by two burly constables. They flanked him in a way that could only mean trouble and Liam felt his hackles rise.

‘Yes?’ He tensed as one of the men moved a little closer to him.

‘Mr Cullen, Mr Liam Cullen?’ The man seemed to tower above Liam, his moustache quivered, as though with anticipation, and Liam’s gut reaction was to flee.

‘I’m Sergeant Meadows, this is Constable Danby, we want to ask you a few questions, sir, that’s all.’ The constable smiled almost apologetically.

‘Right then, ask,’ Liam said, standing his ground, blocking the exit to the street.

‘Wouldn’t you be more comfortable in your room, less public-like, sir?’

‘Just state your business,’ Liam said. ‘What do you want with me?’

‘It is a matter of a gold-and-diamond pin, a pin belonging to a Mrs Hopkins. Do you deny she came to see you this morning?’

Liam began to see what was happening, Mrs Bethan Hopkins wanted him out of the way, she wanted to stop him making an issue of the way the sale of the farm had been handled.

Before he could stop to reason, he had spun on his heel and was out of the door, racing along the street, dodging between the traffic, putting as much distance between himself and the two policemen as he could.

He ran down narrow courts and through buildings long unused and at last found himself in the Strand, a long road that led towards the docks, a road that teemed with seedy lodging-houses. He paused for breath, leaned against a crumbling wall and tried to think clearly. The woman had set him up, that meant she was afraid, really afraid of being found out.

Sweat ran into his eyes as, more slowly now, he made his way into a public bar that was empty, except for the surly landlord. He took a drink, then sank into a corner seat and waited for his heartbeat to return to normal.

Liam sipped the warm ale and leaned back closing his eyes and he knew, in that moment, that in running away from the police he had made the biggest mistake of his life.

Catherine began to settle into the life of the emporium with an ease which surprised her. She rose early and cleaned the fixtures and fittings on the various floors of the lovely old house. She made tea and sandwiches, chatting familiarly with the other girls and as the days passed, she came to feel that she was part of a family once more.

‘Hey there, Cath,’ Doreen came into the back room and flopped into a chair, ‘give us a cuppa, there’s a love.’

Catherine smiled, Doreen and she had become friends, drawn together by loneliness. Doreen had been a much-loved child before her disastrous marriage to a policeman. She had served only half her apprenticeship as a milliner when her parents both died in the flu epidemic that had swept through Swansea, the same epidemic that had taken Catherine’s sister’s life.

Doreen never stopped singing the praises of Mrs Grenfell who had taken her on in faith, given her a new aim in life and money of her own in her pocket.

‘What’s happening then, love, not getting into a rut are you?’

Catherine looked at her friend sharply. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean where is the fire in your belly? Why aren’t you out there fighting tooth and nail to get your place back?’

Catherine sighed. ‘Doreen, you only know a little bit of the story.’ She pushed the teapot across the table. ‘I have no money, what can I do about the farm?’

‘You can go to the bank, that’s what;’ Doreen spoke calmly, ‘get them to make you a loan. It can be done, you know.’

Catherine shook her head doubtfully. ‘It was because of the loan from the bank that I lost the farm.’ She shook her head. ‘It’s all signed and sealed, I’ve lost my home for ever.’

‘Well, there’s still no need to lie down like a sick cat and take a beating. Fight for what you want, girl!’

Catherine leaned on her elbows, perhaps Doreen was right, perhaps she should be doing something about her future. But then what did she want? She no longer knew. It was comfortable to work in the store, surrounded by girls who accepted her as one of them.

‘You are not the sort to spend the rest of your life indoors, mind.’ It was as if Doreen had read her mind. ‘You are cut out for the open land and the sun and the good earth beneath your feet. Don’t settle for second best.’

‘I may not be cut out for shop work but at least I won’t starve,’ Catherine said wryly.