Firebird (11 page)
Authors: Iris Gower
âWhat?' Llinos put her hand up and encountered a rough tangle of curls. She bit her lip and twisted her hair into a loop with impatient fingers, wishing he would go away.
He was small and thin and pathetic-looking and she felt sorry for him. He seemed to need a friend but she had enough to do to look after herself without taking on his problems as well.
âI don't know why we have to meet in such unfortunate circumstances,' he said apologetically and it was as though he sensed her impatience. âLast time we met I almost ran you down.'
âI'm surprised you remembered me at all.' Llinos spoke acidly. Eynon Morton-Edwards was being friendly but why, what did he want?
He took out a small brush from inside his coat and handed it to her. âJust run it through your hair,' he said. âIt's coming loose again.'
She contemplated throwing the brush back at him and then thought better of it. She brushed her hair with quick angry strokes. âThere, are you happy now?'
âYou are really quite pretty,' he said. âYou'd be very pretty if you smiled now and then.' The white crisp collar at his neck emphasized his pallor. Eynon Morton-Edwards was not a strong man, she realized with a rush of remorse. Other people had their problems too and it was about time she remembered that.
âI'm sorry,' he said, âhave I upset you? I only wanted to make friends.' Suddenly, it was as if the dam of ice within her melted. Llinos put her hands over her face and began to cry. She was ashamed of herself, ashamed of her ill temper and more ashamed of crying before a stranger.
Tentatively, he put his hand on her arm, clucking to her as if she was a baby. âThere, there, you'll feel better for a good cry.' He patted her shoulder and she leaned against him, grateful for his kindness. After a while, she wiped her eyes and smiled shakily.
âI'm all right now.' She looked at him. The collar of his fine jacket was damp with her tears. âThanks for being so . . . so . . .' The words trailed away.
âThink nothing of it. I often feel like crying myself, only men are not supposed to cry, are they? At least that's what my father has always drummed into me.'
âI'd better get on, sell the pots I haven't broken.' Llinos picked up the reins. âI'll walk the rest of the way, the market's not far.'
âMiss Savage,' Eynon said, âI know you've had a bad time of things lately. I wish you would accept my offer of help, it's well meant.' He smiled. âI assure you, I have no ulterior motive.'
âI know.' She believed him.
âIsn't there anyone to look after you, no cousin or uncle or something?' he asked as he fell into step beside her, leading his horse on the rein.
Llinos thought of Celia, who would be cleaning the house, cooking up a pot of
cawl
, taking over her life. She nodded.
cawl
, taking over her life. She nodded.
âI've got some help.'
âBut it's not the right sort of help?'
She glanced sideways, seeing the softness of his features and the clean fall of his hair over his brow. She knew suddenly that she liked him. She felt instinctively that in spite of who he was, she could trust him.
âI have Celia helping in the house, she's very good, but . . . anyway, what I need is financial help,' she said. âI'm going to the bank while I'm in town to see Mr Francis. Perhaps he can advise me.' Llinos heard her voice shake and swallowed hard. âI won't lose the pottery, I just won't.'
âI'm sorry. No wonder you were crying,' Eynon said. âWould you like me to come with you to the bank? I am very friendly with Mr Francis.'
âNo,' Llinos said firmly. âIf I'm to run the pottery and make it the fine business it once was I have to learn to stand on my own two feet.'
âI'm sure the bank will help,' he said. âThe Savage name was always good in Swansea. Once my own father even mentioned the place with respect and he doesn't like anyone to be in competition with him.'
âWhy should he worry about competition? He has got the biggest pottery in this part of the country.'
âI know, but he's ambitious,' Eynon said. âHe's trying out an experiment on a new porcelain body, he's quite excited about it. If it works he's going to produce it in large quantities, have the finest painters to decorate the pieces and sell the services to London, perhaps even to the king.'
âThe king?'
âOh, yes, as I said, my father is a very ambitious man.' Llinos drew the cart to a halt. The market sprawled across the dirt track of a roadway, stalls set down on whatever spot took the vendor's fancy.
âWell, here we are, then, Miss Savage. I trust you will sell all your pots and take home a nice little profit.'
Llinos turned to him impulsively. âIf you meant your offer to help then I accept. Won't you stay with me, just for a while?'
âWhy not? Let's unload the pottery. Young man, you go and find us a good spot, somewhere we'll be noticed.'
They set up the baskets of stock between a woman in a hat and shawl selling cockles and an old man with a basket of vegetables.
âMorning, Miss Savage.' The cockle woman lifted her hand. âSorry to hear about your mother, good woman was Mrs Savage. Pity she took up with a bad lot the likes of that Mr Cimla, mind.'
Llinos nodded. âThank you for your condolences, Mrs Williams.' She was aware she sounded distant but she did not want to talk about her mother, not to this woman whom she scarcely knew.
The woman was not done. âGot yourself a helper though, I see, Eynon Morton-Edwards no less.' Her eyes were bright with curiosity. She touched the brim of her black hat in a deferential gesture that was belied by the spiteful look in her eyes. Llinos wondered what the woman had against Eynon.
Whatever it was, it didn't bother Eynon. He held up one of the tall jugs, glazed with the brown and cream that was a mark of the pottery, and called out loudly, urging the crowd to buy one of the finest pots in Swansea.
Llinos's mouth curved into a smile; he had a nerve, he was obviously a gentleman and yet he made a sale almost at once as though he was born to barter in the market place.
By midday, most of the stock was sold. âWant to go home or shall we stick it out?' Eynon asked.
âMight as well sell the lot.' Llinos smiled. âI'd better make the most of you while I've got you. When I'm on my own I won't do half as well.'
âVery well, then, hang on here, I'll go and get us something to eat. Are you hungry, lad?' The boy's eyes lit up at the prospect of food and the words of protest Llinos was about to say died on her lips.
When he had gone, Llinos felt suddenly weary. Her feet ached and she sank onto a flat stone and wrapped her skirt around her legs.
âThat boy is a strange one.' Moriah Williams was packing; the baskets were empty except for a few cockles that clung to the weaving.
âHe's been good to me,' Llinos said.
âWell, that posh school didn't make much of a man of him, did it? All that painting and stuff, no occupation for a bright young fellow.'
âAs I said, he's been good to me.' Llinos spoke icily; the woman nodded.
â
Chwarae teg
, fair play, that's all anyone can ask. Perhaps he's not as bad as that father of his.'
Chwarae teg
, fair play, that's all anyone can ask. Perhaps he's not as bad as that father of his.'
Eynon returned and Moriah Williams nodded to him before putting the large baskets over her arm and making her way through the crowd in the direction of the hills.
Eynon had brought a fresh loaf and a piece of cheese and Llinos realized how hungry she was. She smiled, feeling better than she had done in weeks.
âI expect old Mrs Williams has been talking about me.' Eynon began to eat hungrily. His teeth, Llinos noticed, were clean and white. She said nothing.
âI expect she's told you I'm not a son my father can be proud of, I'm not strong and manly enough; that's what everyone says. Well, I am different to him and I'm glad about it.'
âBeing a man isn't about physical strength, is it?' Llinos said. âI, for one, would be proud to call you a friend.'
He rested his hand on her shoulder. âYou are so sweet and innocent and to you everything is simple. I am a few years older than you and far, far more used to the ways of the world and I expect criticism whatever I do. But if you would like us to be friends, I can promise you I will never ask for anything from you except friendship and trust.'
Llinos nodded. âSounds as if I'm getting the best of the bargain.'
Eynon laughed. He finished eating and picked up one of the remaining pots. âI'm going to sell these before we go, if it's the last thing I do.'
The warm air was cooling into evening by the time Llinos made her way back to Pottery Row.
âTired?' Eynon asked and she nodded.
âI am tired and I never even got round to seeing Mr Francis at the bank, but somehow I feel happier than I've done for days.' She took a deep breath. âI know I shouldn't say that so soon after . . . after Mother's death but . . .'
âYour mother is probably looking down at you and urging you to be happy right now.'
At the corner of Pottery Row, Eynon paused. âMay I come in?'
âYes.'
She took him around the back way and left the cart beside the kiln. He appraised the buildings, his head on one side.
âI've never seen your place properly before; it looks like you've got the makings of a very good business here, Miss Savage.'
âI don't know.' Llinos shook her head. âI'm not sure I can cope with it all, the books and things, figures just puzzle me. I don't know how much clay to buy, or anything.'
âWell, if I may, I would be pleased to help you with all that. Bookwork does not require physical strength, you see.' He smiled.
âWhy would you want to help me?'
âA variety of reasons, not least that I hate to see a sweet young lady like you left to the mercy of others who might not have your best interests at heart.'
Celia was sitting before the fire; the smell of ham soup filled the kitchen.
Eynon sniffed the air as though unaware of Celia's open-mouthed astonishment. âSomething smells delicious.'
Celia rose hastily. âGood heavens! You are Mr Morton-Edwards.'
âSo I am.' Eynon sat on one of the kitchen chairs. âAnd you must be Celia.'
Celia bobbed a curtsy. âYou are welcome to a bit of supper though it's nothing fancy, not like what you're used to.'
Eynon looked from Celia to Llinos. âI thank you for your kind thought but is the lady of the house willing for me to stay?'
Llinos knew that Eynon was gently putting Celia in her place and she could not suppress the sudden upturn of her mouth.
âI would be very pleased if you would stay, sir,' she said gravely.
The soup was hot and warming, the bread freshly baked. Llinos touched Celia's arm.
âThank you for everything, Celia, I do appreciate all you've done for me, but I have to manage on my own some time.'
Celia's colour rose, there was an uncomfortable silence and then she laughed and rose to her feet.
âI give in, I have been acting as if I own the place, eating your food, using your fuel and I'm sorry. I meant well. I surely didn't mean to take advantage.'
âAnd I didn't mean you are not welcome here,' Llinos said quickly. âI know the arrangement was that you come in now and again to keep an eye on things for me and you've been here every day. If you ask me, it's I who have been taking advantage of you.'
âBless you, it's been wonderful, I've had someone to care for, to cook and clean for. My life is lonely sometimes in that old corner house.'
âWell, come in and clean and cook for me as much as you like, Celia,' Llinos said. âIf you feel that sharing my food and fire is enough return for your efforts I will be happy to have you here any time.'
Celia subsided into her chair and Llinos felt that an important issue had been resolved, the boundaries were set between herself and Celia.
âShall we look over the books?' Eynon asked. âOr are you too tired?'
âI'm too tired.' Llinos smiled. âAnd there is still other work to do. You could give me a hand to stack the kiln if you like. Benjamin will have kept the fires going.'
Eynon rested his hand on her shoulder. âYou stay where you are, I'll see to the stacking.' He paused. âHow much help do you have?'
âNot enough.'
âI see.' He made his way to the door and Llinos rose to her feet.
âI should come with you, there's a lot to do.'
âYou should get to bed, there are shadows as big as saucers under your eyes.'
There was silence in the kitchen after he'd gone. Llinos leaned wearily against the smooth wood of the rocking chair and closed her eyes.
âHe'll want something, you mark my words.' Celia spoke softly. âHis kind, the rich, they don't do nothing unless there's something in it for them.'
Wearily, Llinos opened her eyes. âWhat could I possibly give Eynon?'
âHe might want to bed you, child, some are like that.' She sniffed. âThough I must say he seems the wrong sort, a bit on the sickly side if you ask me.'
âWell then?'
Celia sighed. âI don't know, perhaps I'm getting too long in the tooth to believe in the goodness of folks. But don't you listen to me, you got to live your life the way you think fit.'
âWell, at least for today I've had some help,' Llinos said. âMr Morton-Edwards made sure we sold the pots, every one of them.' She jingled the money in her pockets. âAnd it will be wonderful if he can help with the books, too.'
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