Firebird (15 page)

She swallowed her shock. ‘Take my father into the sitting-room, please, it's just there to the right,' Llinos said as the group of neighbours, hushed now, moved to make way for them.

‘I can give my own directions, I am not a visitor, nor an invalid to be humoured.' There was a note of reproof in her father's tone and Llinos acknowledged it with a droop of her head.

She saw Eynon look at her doubtfully, wondering if he should leave. She beckoned to him to follow.

Lloyd Savage settled into a chair, adjusted the shawl over his knees. He studied Eynon hard for a moment before speaking.

‘I know your father and knowing him I can't help but wonder what you are doing in my house.'

‘He is a friend, Father,' Llinos said quickly, ‘a very good friend.'

‘I see. Llinos, call one of the maids to fetch me a beaker of cordial, would you? I've got a raging thirst.'

Llinos looked at Eynon and shook her head warningly. Time enough to explain there were no maids when her father was rested. When she returned to the sitting-room, Eynon was studying the stranger and there was an odd look on his face. When he saw her, he raised an eyebrow enquiringly.

‘Eynon, don't go,' Llinos said, catching his hand. ‘Father, I must explain, Eynon is more than a friend, he is a partner. He's put money into the business, without him I couldn't have carried on. The business was failing and Eynon helped me try to save it.'

‘Why would you work in opposition to that rascal who is your father?' Lloyd asked and Llinos felt herself grow tense.

‘I do not agree with much that my father does,' Eynon said. ‘But for all that I will not have him insulted.'

After a moment, Lloyd Savage nodded. ‘I respect you for that. I apologize for my rudeness. Please sit down, join us in a cup of lemonade. You too, Joe.'

Joe sat awkwardly, his long legs stretched out before him.

‘I should introduce Joe.' Savage smiled at his daughter. ‘Like you, I am loyal to my friends and Joe is a dear friend. He saved my life, not once but several times. A year ago at Leipzig I was lost for several days. Missing believed killed. It was probably then that some well meaning general wrote to your mother.'

Llinos looked at Joe, looked into the blue of his eyes and felt the sweetness she had experienced in her dreams. Then there had been no barriers, now there were many. He inclined his head and she saw the dark hair swing forward over his shoulder and felt the urge to touch its softness.

‘I am honoured to meet you, Miss Savage.' Like the first time she had heard him speak, it was a shock to hear how cultured his voice was. It was strangely at variance with his foreign appearance, and yet the sound of it sank through her veins and into her being and rested in a secret place there.

‘Thank you for all you've done for my father.' She swallowed hard, not knowing if she should hold out her hand to him.

‘Give him your hand, then, Llinos,' her father encouraged. ‘He won't bite!' She obeyed with an eagerness that surprised her.

Joe's hand was warm and strong. He lifted her fingers to his lips and she felt the colour rise to her cheeks.

‘Ah, Joe, this is a side of you I've never seen before,' the captain said. ‘Your father must have educated you well.'

Joe released Llinos's fingers and sat back in his chair. ‘He did.'

Eynon had been watching silently. Now he leaned forward. ‘I suppose you attended one of our fine British schools?' There was a hint of sarcasm in his tone. Joe looked at him steadily.

‘As a matter of fact, I did,' he said simply.

‘Then your father must have been a very influential man.' Eynon rose to his feet and bowed. ‘If you will excuse me, Llinos, sir?' He moved to the door and paused.

‘I don't know if you are going to need my help with the books after all, Llinos, but if there is anything I can do, just let me know.'

‘Not so fast, young man.' Lloyd Savage turned to look over his shoulder with difficulty. ‘Come round here where I can see you, for heaven's sake.'

Eynon came forward and stood waiting for the captain to speak.

‘You have put money into the pottery?'

‘That's right.'

‘Then you and I will have much to talk about, I think.'

Eynon looked at Llinos. ‘I have been dealing with your daughter, we are . . . used to each other's ways.'

‘I see. Well, you will soon get used to my ways. In any event, we can discuss it at our leisure at another time. In the meantime, I must thank you for looking after my daughter.'

Eynon smiled. ‘It was my great pleasure and I trust it will continue to be my pleasure in the future.' His eyes rested briefly on Joe and then he left the room.

In the days that followed her father's return, Llinos felt strangely unsettled. Lloyd had taken over the master bedroom and at first he was outraged that Binnie and Maura were sleeping together in one of the guest rooms. Llinos could not decide if he was more upset about the fact that common workers were living in his house or that the two were not married.

Joe chose to sleep in the kitchen, curled in a blanket. He seemed to have made instant friends with Watt, who now slept beside him.

Llinos in her own bedroom was subject to strange dreams. Dreams of eagles, of flying over large seas and continents. But the most disturbing dreams were those in which she was in Joe's arms. Those dreams she rejected as soon as she woke and yet the feeling of warmth they engendered lasted for many hours.

As the days passed, it seemed that the entire household had begun to accept the changes without further comment, but for Llinos, who had to balance the housekeeping accounts, life was made more difficult. She would have to talk to her father, ask him for money.

But what made everything worse was that Joe kept his distance from her. He had not been out of her thoughts since she had first set eyes on him. He was such a strange mixture, half Indian in his beliefs and visions and at the same time civilized, with impeccable table manners and an air of politeness that did much to keep people at a distance.

She knew she had been drawn to him from the first moment she had seen him. She felt gratitude, of course, whenever she thought of his kindness to her father, but more, she wanted to be close to Joe. She knew that his devotion to Lloyd was part of the problem. Some sense of propriety prevented Joe from appearing overfamiliar with his captain's daughter. But she wanted very badly for them to be friends.

Most days, Llinos came downstairs to find that Joe had kept the fire going in the kitchen. But on this sunny morning, she woke to the unexpected sound of hammering. She rose and washed quickly and then paused to glance out at the early morning emptiness of the row. Birds were singing in the brush at the back of the houses, the sun was shining and yet Llinos was filled with a strange melancholy.

She tied up her hair impatiently and hurried downstairs, she had breakfast to make before she went to work.

‘Good morning, Joe.' He was kneeling on the floor, hammering wheels onto one of the good dining-room chairs. ‘What are you doing?'

He did not look up. ‘Putting wheels on one of your dining chairs.'

‘I can see that.' She watched as he manoeuvred the chair over the flags, wheeling it to and fro. ‘Ah! I see what you have in mind, now, that's wonderful, Joe.'

‘It will give your father some independence. He will be able to move around the house at will.' Joe glanced at her briefly. ‘He might even be able to work again. A man has his pride.'

Llinos swallowed the constriction in her throat. Joe was far too perceptive, he saw things that most people did not.

‘I'm going to the sheds,' she said.

‘You should eat.' Joe stared down at her and she was tinglingly aware of him. She longed to touch the silkiness of his hair, instead she moved away.

‘I'm not hungry.'

It was good to be in the sanctuary of the potting shed. With her father's injection of funds, she had been able to employ more staff. Four throwers worked the wheels, turning out pots with the swiftness of long practice. Two more young handlers had been employed and even Watt had a boy to help with clearing up the scraps of clay.

Llinos had reopened one of the disused sheds where three ladies sat decorating the wares. The pottery was doing very well and yet she could not help feeling that something had been lost along the way.

‘Morning, Miss Savage.' One of the throwers nodded without pausing in his work. He dipped his hands in a bowl of water and lifted a piece of flannel to wipe around the rim of the tall pot he was shaping.

‘Good morning, Freddy.'

She wandered out into the sunlight. There seemed to be nothing she could do, at least not in any practical way. She was a good thrower, she could decorate as well as anyone, but she had been forced to resume her role as daughter of the house, a young lady who had no need to soil her hands with clay. It was a situation she did not much like.

She heard the scrape of wheels against the gravel of the path leading towards the pottery. Her father smiled when he saw her.

‘Joe's adapted a chair for me, isn't he brilliant?' He wheeled himself closer. ‘You are looking rather grim, what on earth is the matter?'

‘Nothing, Father.'

‘Then come with me, I'm going to try my hand at making a pot, something I haven't done in years.'

Llinos felt her face relax into a smile. ‘Father, you know you have never been a skilful potter.'

Her father frowned. He had become ill-tempered, easily upset and Llinos realized she must exercise great tact. ‘You are a businessman, a man of ideas.'

He sighed. ‘You are probably right. I'll only interfere with those who can do the job properly.'

‘Well, while you are thinking up ideas, I'd better do some work on the accounts.'

‘Llinos, wait. You do like Joe, don't you? His presence in the house doesn't disturb you, does it? Because he's foreign, I mean? I know the people of the row must look at us askance. We not only provide a love nest for an illicit liaison but we accept foreigners into our midst.'

‘Father, Joe is more of a gentleman than many men I've met.' She thought briefly of Mr Cimla and shivered. As yet her father had not talked a great deal about the events leading up to his wife's death; it was as if he found the subject too painful to broach and in the circumstances, it was just as well. ‘I'm going indoors, I feel cold suddenly,' she said.

The sun was high in the sky as Llinos sat near the open window, the accounting books on the table before her. She looked up as her father wheeled himself into the room. For a moment she was impatient with him; he never seemed to leave her time to herself. Immediately she was ashamed of her thoughts.

‘How are you managing our household accounts, Llinos?' her father asked, peering over her shoulder.

‘I'm not doing those but, as you've asked, I need more money to run the place. Right now, though, I'm working on the pottery accounts and from what I can see from these figures, matters are improving all the time.'

She pushed the books towards him. ‘Eynon's input stopped the decline and your funds give us a measure of security, but the outgoings are a drain on our resources.'

‘We must cut costs or we will not be in profit, is that what you are saying?'

‘I'm afraid so.' She closed the books. She could not concentrate on figures, not this morning.

‘Now, about the household expenditure, our outgoings have increased. Maura is the only one contributing anything to her keep and that is a very small sum. When she has the baby, she won't be able to work, the load will fall on us. The fact is, Father, we are supporting a lot more people now and the household accounts are inevitably rising.'

‘You're right. I eat like the proverbial horse myself, and I like the fire built up in spite of the fine weather.'

Her father looked at her thoughtfully. ‘I must make sure that Joe earns his keep. Apart from any financial consideration, I don't want him to become bored and leave here. I value his friendship too much for that.' He paused and rubbed his chin.

‘Perhaps Binnie and his lady love could find somewhere else to live.' His voice held an edge of irony and Llinos looked at him quickly.

‘Don't judge them because they are not married, Father. In any case, they can't leave, they have nowhere to go.'

‘Really? Now why am I not surprised by your reaction?'

‘Oh, Father, we'll manage but we must make plans, big plans, the sales of our pottery at the market are very good but we are limited to supplying local orders only. What if we approach the larger towns in England and offer our wares there?'

‘The larger towns in England are already well supplied with pottery, Llinos.'

Llinos nodded. ‘I suppose so.'

‘No suppose about it, Mr Wedgwood has a large pottery, his Jasper ware is well known. And then we have the Morton-Edwards pottery on our doorstep, we can't hope to compete with his sort.'

Llinos felt a surge of impatience, her father seemed to be blocking her at every turn. ‘Very well, we must concentrate on providing wares that are different in some way. More exclusive perhaps?'

‘You might have something there.' Lloyd Savage leaned forward eagerly. ‘Joe has some design ideas. Look at these, Llinos.'

He took a sheaf of paper from his pocket and handed them to her. She studied them, head on one side.

‘But these are American Indian designs, do you think they would go well on our pottery?'

‘Why not?'