Paradise Park (7 page)

‘Had you better go for the midwife, Cook?' Katie's voice held a touch of hysteria.

‘All in good time. It will be many hours yet before you hold your little one in your arms. Come on, let's get you up to bed.'

‘I've only just got up!' Katie forced a smile. ‘It's not really going to take hours, is it, Cook?'

‘Always does,' Mrs Davies said. She helped Katie back upstairs and sat her on the bed. ‘I'll get your shoes off and then I'll get you into a clean nightgown. Now, don't you fret, you're a fine strong girl and the birth won't be too bad, you'll see.'

Katie felt as if she was a child again as the cook undressed her and carefully pulled a nightgown over her head.

‘I can see how your belly's getting tighter and that's what's supposed to happen. I know it hurts but it means the baby's trying to come out into the world.' She went to the door and called down the stairs. ‘Bronnie, hurry with that brown paper, there's a good girl.'

Bronnie clattered up the stairs and rushed into the bedroom with clean cloths over her shoulder and the brown paper fluttering like a flag between her fingers.

‘Stand up for a minute,
merchi
, let's get the bed ready before your waters break.' Mrs Davies prepared it deftly, then lowered Katie gently on to it. ‘There, you'll be all right now. All we got to do is wait for the midwife. Bronnie, go and fetch her now. I'll get a couple of bowls of nice warm water.'

Katie felt her heart flutter in fear as Mrs Davies left the room. She didn't want to be alone: the pains were really bad now – they seemed to ebb and flow like the sea, each contraction stronger than the last.

‘Bull, why aren't you here with me?' Katie felt tears well in her eyes but brushed them away impatiently: it was stupid to cry when women had babies every day of the week – there was nothing to be frightened about. She moaned as another pain gripped her and then, thankfully, Mrs Davies was back in the room.

‘I'm sorry, Mrs Beynon.' She looked pale and worried. ‘Bronnie went down the road to call the midwife but she was out on another delivery and no one knows how long she'll be. Still, Bronnie left a note on her door and I'm sure she'll come in plenty of time. Anyway, first babies are always slow.'

Katie tried to relax but the pains had intensified. ‘Cook, I'm frightened, can Bronnie go to find Mr Beynon?'

‘Aye, I'll send her right away, but you keep calm. You've a while to go yet.'

The cook left the room and Katie could hear her giving instructions to the maid. ‘Mr Beynon will be up beyond high-street station I expect, girl. Tell him his wife's time has come and he's wanted here.'

Mrs Davies was soon back and she sat on the bed holding Katie's hand. ‘That little brew of herbs I made up for you yesterday, I've put it to simmer on the fire. It's not very nice to taste but it might help you sleep a bit.'

Katie knew that nothing would make her sleep: the pains were getting faster and more intense by the minute. But she was wrong, the brew Mrs Davies gave her was vile but almost straight away she felt sleepy.

The time seemed to pass in a haze and Katie wondered if the baby would ever be born. Questions crept through her mind: where could the midwife be and why wasn't Bull here?

It was after midday when a fierce urge to bear down took Katie's breath away. She closed her eyes tightly with the effort, grunting low in her throat as she struggled to give birth. She was wide awake now, and when the pain subsided she looked up at Mrs Davies. ‘You'd better help me. My baby is coming and it looks like you're going to be the one to deliver it.'

Mrs Davies came to the bed and looked down at Katie's straining body. ‘I think you're right,
merchi
. Here, let me hitch up your nightgown – it's no time for modesty. Let's get this little ‘un of yours into the world.'

Bull Beynon was thinking of Katie as he walked along the track beside one of the navvies. Her time was near and he wished he could have stayed with her this morning. The man walking beside him coughed, jarring Bull out of his thoughts.

‘Good thing you spotted that cracked bit of track, Seth,' Bull said, ‘or we could all have been in deep trouble.' He tapped the toe of his boot against it. ‘This piece of line will have to be replaced.'

‘Aye, sir, this broad-gauge track, it's no good, yer know. Before long all railways will be using the narrow gauge – I'll wager my week's pay on it.'

‘Maybe you're right,' Bull said, ‘but for now this line needs maintenance. Get the men on to it right away and remember to tell the signalman to switch tracks from here to Swansea.'

Bull left the trackside and made his way towards the high street: he was meeting several of the Great Western Railway shareholders. He was getting used to lunching at the Mackworth in the company of the town's elite. It surprised him even now to realize how far he'd come from his old life as a navvy. Yet he'd enjoyed those days – days of challenges when he'd thought the line from Chepstow to Swansea would never be finished. His thoughts turned to Rhiannon: she was a lovely girl who had made the best of her life in spite of the bad start she'd had. After old Cookson died she'd found a place with Mrs Jayne Buchan and was doing well, he'd heard.

‘Hello, Bull.' He looked up and blinked.

‘Why so startled? I'm not a ghost. It's me, Rhiannon – you know, the girl you used to live with.'

He smiled at the irony in her words. ‘I was surprised to see you, that's all. I was just thinking about you.'

She was fresh and lovely, her dark hair, free of her bonnet, lifting in the wind. He remembered how intimate they'd been, but he had no regrets: now he had his Katie, his beautiful wife, and he would never want any other woman.

‘You look well, Bull, and how is Katie?'

‘She's getting rather big now,' he smiled, ‘and she can't wait for the baby to be born. She's set her heart on having a girl so I hope she's not disappointed.'

‘Once it comes she'll love it whatever it is. That's the way we women are.'

Bull looked at Rhiannon with fresh eyes. Had she ever borne a baby? How little he knew of her in spite of the months they'd spent together.

‘I hear you're working for Mrs Buchan now, Rhiannon. Are you happy?' He watched her shrug her shoulders and frown. She had often told him that happiness was an elusive goal that she would never reach, but she seemed content with her life.

Her next words confirmed what he'd been thinking. ‘I'm secure there, well fed and clothed, and with a nice warm bedroom all to myself.' She flashed him a smile. ‘There was one tricky moment, though. When Mrs Buchan found out about my past she was going to dismiss me.'

‘What stopped her?'

‘It's almost as if she admired me for getting out of that old way of life.'

‘She's not alone in that. I admire you too, Rhiannon.'

Her colour rose. ‘Do you, Bull?'

He took a deep breath. ‘If I wasn't in love with Katie I'd be proud to have you on my arm, Rhiannon. Any man who wins your heart will be a lucky fellow.'

‘My heart is already taken.' He knew she wasn't being coy, that she was just telling him the truth. ‘But I know you well enough by now not to expect anything. You're an honourable man, Bull, perhaps the only honourable man I've ever met.'

‘You just haven't moved in the right circles, Rhiannon. There are plenty of good men about, if you look in the right places.'

‘Where am I likely to meet any?' Rhiannon asked. ‘I'm tied to the house except for my days off and then there seems nowhere to go.'

Bull was about to speak when he saw the familiar figure of the maid running up the high street, bonnet flying.

‘Mr Beynon, sir, I've been looking for you for ages! You have to come home right away.' Bronnie paused to take a breath. ‘Mrs Beynon's time has come and she wants you to be there with her.'

Bull looked at his watch. He should be at the meeting in fifteen minutes but that would have to wait. ‘Go along to the Mackworth, Bronnie,' he said. ‘Tell Mr Morton-Edwards I've been delayed.'

Bronnie nodded, ‘Yes, Mr Beynon.'

Bull turned to Rhiannon. ‘I have to go.'

‘Of course you do. Go on, then, I can see you want to be with Katie – and quite right too.'

Bull saw her longing for him in her eyes and pity tugged at him. ‘You'll meet a nice fellow one day, Rhiannon, someone you can love and trust, but in the meantime, if ever you're in trouble come to me.'

‘Thank you.'

Bull hurried away.

‘Just one more push should do it, missus.' Mrs Davies was red in the face and sweating copiously.

Katie looked up at her and felt a warm glow of gratitude. ‘Thank you for being so good to me, Cook. I won't forget it, I promise you.' She sucked in her breath as the uncontrollable urge to bear down swamped her. All she could do was strain and push and pray that her ordeal would be soon over.

‘The head is crowning!' Mrs Davies said excitedly. ‘Come on now, Mrs Beynon, you're nearly there.'

Katie hardly heard her, so intense was the need to push her child from her body. She growled low in her throat, as she concentrated on the birth of her baby.

Dimly she heard Bull's voice in the doorway and then the need to bear down again overcame her. It was as if the whole world was holding its breath. She screamed then strained until she thought she would faint from the effort. Her body seemed to be on fire and then the pain was over. Her child was born. Katie opened her eyes cautiously. ‘My baby, is she all right?'

‘You have a fine healthy child, Mrs Beynon,' Mrs Davies said, ‘but it's not a girl. You have a strong, beautiful son.'

She handed the baby to Bronnie, who was red from running. ‘I'll see to Mrs Beynon now and when she's comfortable she can hold her baby.' She sniffed, and a tear ran down her face.

‘Thank you, Cook, you've been wonderful,' Katie said shakily. She waited patiently as Mrs Davies took away the signs of the birthing and brought a bowl of clean scented water to wash her, then helped her into a fresh nightgown and propped her up against the pillows. She held out her arms as Bull came into the room. ‘Let me have him, my lovely, let me see my boy
bach
, my own little boy.'

Bull put the baby gently into her arms. He felt heavy against her breasts. ‘Are you pleased, Bull?' she asked quietly. ‘You're not disappointed it's a boy, are you?'

Bull coughed and looked away, but not before she had seen the glisten of tears in his eyes. ‘I'm so proud of you both, so very proud.' Bull's voice was gruff with emotion. ‘I have what every man wants, a son to carry on my name.'

‘A name,' Katie said, swallowing a lump in her throat. ‘We've got to think of a name for him.' She turned to Mrs Davies, who had on a fresh apron now, her hair hidden by a gleaming white cap. ‘Cook, what's your full name?'

‘Dorothy Jessica Joan Davies, but I'm usually called Dot.'

‘Well, we can't call a boy Dot but what about John? It's as near to Joan as we can get. How does that sound to you, Bull?'

‘I think John is a splendid name.' Bull put his hands on Mrs Davies's shoulders. ‘I can't thank you enough for what you've done for us today.'

‘Don't be silly, sir, I'm glad I've had a bit of experience so I could help Mrs Beynon when she needed it.' She moved to the door. ‘I'm going to make us a nice cup of tea – we could all do with it, I'm sure.'

‘Good idea.' Bull closed the door after her departing figure and returned to the bedside. ‘I'm so proud and happy, Katie, that words can't express what I feel for you and our little boy.'

It was then that Katie began to cry: huge tears formed on her lashes, ran down her cheeks and into her mouth.

‘What's the matter, my love? Are you in any pain?' Bull asked anxiously.

Katie gulped. ‘No, Bull, I'm just so happy, that's all.' She turned her face towards her husband and he wiped away the tears with his thumbs. Katie relaxed against the pillows and sighed with contentment. ‘All I ever wanted out of life is here in this room, Bull, my darling. Come,' she said, ‘give the mother of your son a kiss.'

As his lips touched hers, Katie knew that this was the happiest moment of her life.

THE PARADISE PARK
stood solidly against the sky. It was built of old stone that looked mellow in the sunlight, but closer inspection revealed cracks in the walls, and the peeling paint on the ornate doors gave the hotel a run-down appearance.

In the kitchen, Sal was sitting near the fire trying to dry her clothes. She had had a bath and had used the last of the water to soak her skirt and her turnover but now she realized that they would not be dry for several hours.

Shivering, she wrapped the blanket around her and crept to the door. It opened on to a long passageway that led to the back stairs. Up there, in one of the rooms, she would find clothes belonging to the maids. Sal knew she had no alternative but to help herself to a skirt, a turnover and one or two undergarments. The flagged floor under her feet was cold and she wished she had shoes. But she must count her blessings: she was lucky that Mr Bundy was still letting her sleep in the kitchen. The wooden treads on the stairs to the servants' quarters had lost most of their varnish, testifying to the frequent comings and goings of many feet. At the top, puffing with the effort of running up, Sal opened a door. The room contained only one bed and Sal guessed that it was the housekeeper's. The wardrobe door creaked ominously as she opened it. She saw at once that the clothes inside it were several sizes too large for her.

She searched all the rooms on the servants' floor, but found only one of each garment hanging in the cupboards. She knew she couldn't steal from girls as poor as herself. She crept back downstairs and paused on a lower landing. Several guest rooms led off a broad passage. These rooms were occupied by men who stayed one night then left before dawn. Cautiously Sal opened a door and peered inside. The room was empty and she saw a chemise, a skirt and a turnover lying on the bed. The turnover was knitted in a cheerful red and fitted nicely on her shoulders.