Firebird (14 page)

Joe put his head down on his blanket and closed his eyes. He would sleep for a few hours, conserve his energy. Over the next days, when the captain was fit to travel, Joe would need to call on every bit of the reserves of strength he possessed.

The country of Wales was full of the shades of autumn. Trees magnificently garbed in reds and golds bordered the small villages. The sea, a mild peaceful sea, edged the land with rich azure, sparkling in the September sunlight.

‘We will soon be at your home, Captain.' Joe guided the horse and trap towards the town of Swansea; soon, his guardianship of the captain would be ended, Savage would be with his family. In a way, it saddened Joe to think of parting with the man to whom he had grown so close. They were almost like brothers, or perhaps father and son would be more accurate, Savage being older than Joe by many years.

‘Smell the stink of the copper works?' The captain's voice carried from the interior of the trap to where Joe sat in the driving seat. It had been a source of great relief to Joe to realize that the captain had resources of money to draw on. They had stopped for several days at a place called Cardiff and there the captain had done business with well-dressed solicitors and bankers who had looked down their noses at Joe.

There, too, they had learned of the ‘marriage' and the death of the captain's wife. He had taken it badly, falling into a long silence, his head sunk onto his chest. But as they had journeyed towards Swansea, he had brightened.

‘Aye, there is still an evil smell about the town but I love the place.'

Joe looked towards the winding river marred by smoking, intrusive chimney stacks. ‘Swansea must have been beautiful once.'

‘Oh it was.' The captain's voice was regretful. ‘When I was courting my wife, the town was tranquil with only the beginnings of a manufactory to indicate what was to come. But we never foresaw the future of the town and perhaps that was a good thing.'

There was silence for a time and then the captain's voice became eager. ‘Just turn up the hill here, Joe, the pottery is only about a mile away.'

Joe guided the animal with a gentle tug on the reins and the horse responded obediently. Joe discovered he had a way with animals when he was a child.

The rise of the hill was gentle but Joe leapt down from the driving seat. ‘I'll lighten the load,' he said, looking over his shoulder at the captain.

Savage sighed heavily. ‘I wish I could do the same, Joe, but there we are, I have come home to my child as half a man. I have no way of knowing how she will react.'

Joe did not reply. It was not for him to guess the ways of the people who belonged to the captain. And yet, in spite of himself, he was excited at the thought of meeting Llinos at last. Would she be the woman of his dreams or had his imaginings led him astray? Well, he would soon know.

His nerve endings were alive as he guided the horse towards the outskirts of the town. Above him and following the line of the river, he saw the tall, oddly shaped chimneys of the pottery. And he knew, deep down within his being, that here, in this smoky town, lay his destiny.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Eynon Morton-Edwards stared at his reflection in the mirror that hung over the ornate mantelpiece. He was not ill favoured, his hair was a fine colour and his eyes were honest and clear. What was it then that made his father dislike him so much? Was it his physical weakness, his artistic streak or the fact that his mother had died giving birth to him?

His father entered the room. He was dressed for riding and he slapped the crop against his boots as he looked at his son in disgust. ‘There you go, preening again. You should have been a girl, I've always said as much.'

Eynon felt his shoulders grow tense. ‘I know you have, I've heard the same refrain ever since I can remember.'

‘I blame your stepmother, she spoiled you rotten, dressed you in frills and furbelows. Silly bitch!'

Eynon flinched at his father's lack of sensitivity. ‘Sometimes you can be so crude, Father,' he said.

Philip's eyebrows rose in disbelief. ‘You young fool!' He came towards Eynon and raised his whip, bringing it down across his son's shoulders. The leather, cutting through the soft material of Eynon's shirt, felt like a red-hot iron.

‘I'll teach you to talk to your father like that!' Philip hit him again. ‘I should have done this a long time ago, it might have made a man of you.'

Philip lashed out at him, but Eynon twisted away and caught the end of the whip.

‘That's enough, Father,' he said icily. ‘That's the first time and the last that you raise a hand to me. I'm going out,' he said. ‘I feel I need some fresh air.'

‘Clear off, then.' Philip Morton-Edwards spoke sharply. ‘I can't stand looking at you. I'll never get strong grandsons out of you. I can only hope that Estelle does better for me than your mother did.'

Eynon left the room by the French windows and walked along the path that bordered the well manicured lawns of Ty Mawr. He felt angry, humiliated, but what was new in that? His father always had that effect on him. As a boy, all Eynon ever wanted was love and respect but there had been precious little of that in the Morton-Edwards household.

One day, he supposed, he would fall in love, meet someone who would like him for himself, but that day was a long time coming. What a pity he could not fall in love with little Llinos Savage. Indeed, he believed he was half in love with her already. Imagine his father's rage if he was presented with grandsons from the Savage family.

Lloyd Savage had always been a great big thorn in Philip Morton-Edwards' side. The two men had hated each other, they had been rivals, the two potteries lying almost side by side, in direct competition with each other. But it was the Tawe Pottery which had risen to supremacy.

Eynon picked up a stone and threw it across the lawn. The stone skimmed through the bushes, sending small creatures scurrying for cover. It was high time he moved out of his father's house. He would begin looking for a property at once.

Later, he would call to see Llinos, she was up against it, she needed all the help and encouragement she could get.

He returned to the house only long enough to get his topcoat and hat. It was a fine day and there was only a short distance to walk to town but he was, as always, conscious of his weak constitution. He stepped out into the road and looked up at the clear sky above him. Today was a new day, he would put his father right out of his mind. Soon, he would be living in a house of his own, he would be free.

Llinos opened the door of Pottery House and smiled as she saw Eynon standing on the step, his hat in his hand, a jaunty bow at his neck.

‘Good morning, Miss Savage,' Eynon said. ‘I have come calling on you. I hope I have not chosen an inconvenient moment.'

‘Come in and stop fooling around.' Llinos looked along the row and noticed several of the neighbours watching the proceedings with interest. ‘You horror! You'll have everyone talking about us.' She led the way into the kitchen.

‘Sit down somewhere, I was just making a pot of tea.' She pushed the kettle onto the fire and picked up the brown teapot. Everything was orderly and in its place since Maura had taken to working in the kitchen.

Maura was making herself too much at home in Pottery House, Llinos thought worriedly. Goodness knows what she would be like if she was at home all day instead of working at the vicar's house.

Llinos made the tea and handed a cup to Eynon. He was relaxing in the large rocking chair, his legs stretched out before him, his polished boots almost touching the fender. With his starched linen and fine topcoat, he looked incongruous in such a homely setting.

‘I haven't seen you for a few days,' Eynon said. ‘I've had a chill. Did you miss me?'

‘Yes, I suppose I did.' Llinos brushed back her hair. Her arms ached, she had been working in the sheds since daybreak. Eynon was lucky he had found her in the house instead of having to search the pottery buildings for her.

‘Though to be truthful, I've been working so hard I haven't had the energy to think of anything else,' she said.

‘I'm flattered, I'm sure.' Eynon spoke dryly. ‘Anyway, if you've been working so hard, what are you doing sloping around the house making tea?'

‘I'm entitled to a break now and again.' Llinos heard the indignation in her voice and when Eynon smiled she knew he had been teasing her. Like a fool she had risen to the bait.

She sat down on one of the heavy oak kitchen chairs. ‘I'm grateful for the money you put into the pottery, but as my new partner I hoped you would find time to help me with the books.'

She looked at him closely; he was paler than usual and there was a faint red mark running along his cheek.

‘What's wrong?' she asked.

‘It's a long story,' Eynon said. ‘But I'll tell you anyway.' He sat forward, his shoulders hunched, and Llinos saw that he was not as relaxed as he pretended to be.

‘My father thought he would thrash some sense into me.' Eynon's eyes were dark. ‘Needless to say, it didn't work. The point is, I can't stay under the same roof as him any longer.'

Llinos touched his hand. ‘You can stay here with me for as long as you like,' she said impulsively.

His face softened. ‘I knew you'd say that, but it wouldn't do.'

‘What do you mean?' Llinos looked at him in surprise. Eynon shook his head.

‘People would talk, don't you realize that?'

‘What would they say?'

Eynon smiled. ‘You innocent. They would say I was bedding you, those who believed me man enough, that is.'

She lifted her chin. ‘Let them talk, I won't see you out on the street.'

‘I have plenty of money, I won't be out on the street, don't you worry.' He squeezed her hand. ‘But thank you for caring. I've known from the very first time I set eyes on you that we would be good friends.' He paused, lifting his head in an attitude of listening. ‘What's that?'

From outside in the row, the sound of voices rose to a cheer. ‘What on earth is going on?'

Eynon got to his feet and moved swiftly towards the door. Llinos followed more slowly, knowing it took very little for the good people of the neighbourhood to become excited. Just the arrival of the baker's cart was enough to cause a stir.

Eynon's tall frame blocked out the sunlight and the view of the street. Llinos tried to peer over his shoulder but she was too small to see anything.

‘Captain Savage has come home!' Celia-end-house was shouting hysterically, her voice high above the cheers of the crowd.

Llinos froze – her father? Was Celia demented? Her father was dead, killed in the war. Her mother had shown her the letter. As Eynon stepped aside,

Llinos saw a man standing before her. He was tall and long dark hair hung down his back. He looked into her eyes and she recognized him. Carved as if from granite, his face was foreign and yet familiar. The eyes, blue and heavy-lidded, seemed to look at her without surprise.

‘I have brought your father home, Miss Savage.' His voice was low, cultured. It was as much a shock as the words he spoke.

‘My father?' She heard her voice high-pitched, unrecognizable. ‘My father is dead.'

‘No, he is safe, he has come home.' Llinos was aware of the sunlight, the warmth of the stone beneath her feet. It was as though time was suspended and she was looking in on the world from outside. People were telling her that Father had come home but how could that be?

‘Llinos! Can this big girl be my daughter?' The voice was low, husky, and it stirred memories of her childhood. It was true, her father was alive.

‘Father!' She walked towards him and drank in the pallor of his face and the white of his hair. His face was scarred, older than she remembered, but it was the face she loved.

‘
Cariad
.' In spite of having aged, he looked fine in his military uniform, his posture was upright, his back stiff, his shoulders square. He held himself with dignity as befitted an officer. ‘Are you going to give me a kiss, then, or have you forgotten me?'

She scrambled up the steps of the cart and flung herself into his arms. As he hugged her she breathed in the scent of his tobacco, felt the heat rise from the coarse material of his uniform. The scents of him were achingly familiar.

‘Oh, Father, they told us you were dead.' She clung to him, her arms around his neck, her face buried against his shoulder.

‘There, my little girl, it's all right. I'm back, I'll take care of you now, no need to fret.'

‘You know about . . . Mother?' Llinos looked into his face anxiously.

He nodded. ‘When I called at my bank in Cardiff I found they had been contacted by Robert Francis of Swansea on your behalf because he thought you were an orphan.' He held her away from him and looked into her face.

‘Did she die peacefully?'

‘Come on, let's go into the house.' Llinos spoke softly. ‘We can talk about it later.'

‘Joe, will you give me a hand?' Lloyd Savage looked past her shoulder and Llinos turned to see the tall stranger who was so familiar to her standing beside her.

His eyes, blue as the summer skies, rested on Llinos and she felt again an almost physical blow of recognition. She had never seen him before and yet he was as familiar to her as her own face in the mirror.

He nodded in her direction, as if he understood her feelings, and leaned into the carriage. As he lifted the captain and carried him towards the door, Llinos realized that her father had not come home from the war unscathed.