The Oyster Catchers (11 page)

‘His injuries,’ Eline heard herself asking, ‘how bad are they?’

The doctor paused doubtfully and Eline shook back her hair. ‘I want to know the truth, please.’

‘He’s lost three of his fingers,’ the doctor said at last, ‘caught them in the winch it seems. Very bad luck, but not fatal.’ He smiled reassuringly. ‘Give him a few days to replace the blood he’s lost, feed him good liver and oxtail and he’ll be as right as rain.’ He was about to turn away when he spoke again.

‘He won’t be able to go back to sea for a few weeks though, make sure he rests, won’t you?’

‘Can I see him?’ Eline asked, looking towards the door and the doctor nodded.

‘Yes, but he’ll be asleep, he won’t be able to talk to you, not just now.’

Eline went into the long ward and saw at once the bed with screens around it and knew Joe was there. A nurse was just drawing the clothes up over Joe and she smiled as she saw Eline.

‘Your dad will be just fine and dandy,
cariad
,’ she said gently. ‘Sit with him a bit if you like, but he won’t be able to speak to you, mind.’

Eline thanked the nurse, not bothering to correct her misapprehension. What did it matter that Joe was taken to be her father? Eline leaned over Joe, seeing his pale face, usually so ruddy, with a dart of pain.

She had been about to go against all Joe’s wishes, to flout her husband’s authority and she didn’t think she would ever get over the feeling of guilt that rested like a millstone on her shoulders now.

She stroked Joe’s cheek; it was cold and clammy to touch. Eline edged the bedclothes closer round him, wanting instinctively to warm him. Tears blurred her eyes. ‘Oh Joe,’ she whispered, ‘I’m sorry, my love.’

It was much later when she left the hospital and, as she made her way out into the fading evening light, she caught sight of William waiting for her near the gate. She felt grateful to him for his concern, the walk back
alone to Oystermouth would have been the last straw. Eline felt she would have broken down and cried.

‘Come and sit with me,’ he said softly, holding out his hand and lifting her into the seat beside him. ‘You look so pale and worried, I’m sure your … he’ll be all right.’

Eline sensed that William could not bring himself to say the word ‘husband’ and she knew exactly how he felt. Sitting close to Will, she could feel her being soften with love for him; she wanted to belong to him, felt, in some strange way that she
did
belong to him.

Eline wished she could say the words, ‘I love you’, and have it over and done with, but guilt held her silent, though in the soft darkness, she felt William by her side and wanted him to be there always.

‘I love you, Eline.’ It was William who broke the silence. ‘I know you’re married, but I can’t help it, I’ll always love you and you love me too, I know it in my bones.’

She couldn’t speak, but she gently rested her head against his shoulder, closing her eyes, breathing in the scent of him. Eline knew she couldn’t be closer to him if she had known his physical love and for now it was enough that he cared.

It was nearly a week later when Joe was released from hospital. He was still pale and his hand was heavily bandaged. He stared down at Eline almost as though he didn’t know her.

‘Joe,’ she said softly as she threaded her arm through his, ‘come on, let’s get back home.’

‘I’ve made arrangements,’ he said and he looked above her head to where, beneath the slender trees, stood the figure of a young man. ‘My own flesh and blood,’ he said unaware of his cruelty, ‘has come to fetch me.’

Tom Parks came forward and stood for a moment staring at Joe as though uncertain what he should do. Joe reached out his good hand.

‘I knew you wouldn’t let me down – son,’ he said quietly. After a moment’s hesitation, the two men, as though on a given signal, moved together and embraced warmly.

‘I shouldn’t have let
you
down all those years ago,’ Joe said hoarsely and Tom moving away smiled slightly.

‘It made no difference, I think I always knew you were my father,’ he said. ‘I waited a long time though for you to acknowledge me, perhaps too long.’

‘No, boy, bach,’ Joe said quickly, ‘it’s surely never too late to make amends.’

The two men seemed unaware of Eline’s presence; Joe leaned forward a little, his large frame drowning that of the younger man. But Tom Parks had dignity and a wry twist to his lips that told Eline a lot about him and she liked him, this son of her husband, as she had never liked his mother or his sisters.

‘The
Oyster Sunrise
,’ Joe said, ‘she shall be yours, only prove to me that you are man enough to master her and you can have her for your very own, employ your own crew, do as you like with her.’

Tom’s young face was suddenly illuminated. ‘My own master, that’s what I’ve always wanted to be,’ he said, ‘and I’m a good sailor. I’ll prove it to you, don’t you worry about that.’

Eline wanted to protest, the
Oyster Sunrise
was a boat bought with the money from the sale of Honey’s Farm, it should rightfully belong to her own sons. But she had no sons, perhaps she would never have sons and, indeed, did she want any children at all by Joe Harries? That was a question to which she could find no answer. So Eline sat in silence in the back of the cart that Tom had provided, while her husband sat up on the driving seat talking softly to Tom, who guided the horse surely over the road to Mumbles. Making up for lost time they were, Eline guessed miserably.

That night Joe went to sleep at Eline’s side without
once taking her in his arms. It seemed the accident had changed him and yet hadn’t the change been apparent since the time when perhaps Nina Parks had managed to lure him once more to her bed?

Eline had only suspicions, but she knew instinctively that she was right about Joe’s infidelity. Joe’s attitude towards her had subtly altered ever since he had found her working in Will Davies’s shop; it seemed he had turned to Nina for comfort and support and there wasn’t much Eline could do about it.

It soon became the talk of the village how Joe Harries was training the young man reputed to be his son to master the
Oyster Sunrise
.

‘I expect everyone is talking about me.’ Eline was drinking tea with Carys in the small, neat kitchen while Carys knitted a tiny, white garment, her plump face wreathed in happiness.

‘What do you mean,
cariad
?’ Carys asked glancing up. ‘Oh, the boy and the
Oyster Sunrise
. No, it’s not you they are talking about, it’s the way Nina Parks is setting her cap for your Joe, that’s what folks are talking about, if you really want to know.’

It was clear to Eline that this was something Carys had wished to say for some time and had only been waiting for the right opportunity.

‘Go on, I might as well know the truth, all of it,’ Eline said softly. ‘I already know that my husband spends more nights away from me than he does with me,’ she added solemnly.

Carys sighed. ‘I tried to warn you, girl.’ Her voice was soft. ‘I knew that Nina always loved your Joe and never would give up trying to win him back so long as she lived.’

‘He’s sleeping with her, in her bed,’ Eline said wearily, wondering if she even cared.

‘No!’ Carys said sharply. ‘Not with their son under the same roof. Not even your Joe would get away with
that, not with a fine, upstanding young man like Tom in the house.’

‘What then?’ Eline asked almost in disbelief. She could hardly credit that her lusty husband was abstaining from the pleasure of a woman’s body for so long.

‘He’s like a man possessed,’ Carys said. ‘He wants young Tom to be the finest oyster fisherman on the whole of the Gower Coast.’ She paused. ‘Nothing wrong with that, mind,’ she added hastily, ‘but he’s going to teach that boy everything except how to know where the oyster beds are and that sort of thing comes from instinct as much as experience.

‘You can only teach so much by talking about things, then they have to be practised and how is young Tom to get his experience while the oysters are out of season and the boats laid up at Horseshoe Pool?’

Eline shook her head helplessly. ‘I don’t know what they do with their time, it’s the women who take the oysters from the perches, pickle them or carry them to market. What can Joe and Tom find to talk about all day?’

The door opened and Joe himself stood framed against the brightness of the sunlight. Carys rose at once to her feet.

‘
Duw
, home from the public, is it, Joe? I’d better go and make my man’s dinner then.’

When Carys had gone, Eline rose and pushed the kettle on to the fire. Joe sat down at the scrubbed table and looked around him.

‘I see there’s no dinner for me, Eline.’ His tone was accusing and suddenly, Eline was angry.

‘How can I make you dinner when I don’t know what day you’ll be home, let alone what hour?’ she said, her voice rising.

Joe stood and towered over her. ‘A good woman has a stew pot on at all times,’ he said, ‘but then you are not wise in the village ways, are you, Eline?’

‘No, I suppose I’m not.’ Suddenly her anger left her to be replaced by a dull acceptance of her lot. She was Joe’s wife, she was failing in her duty to him and duty was an all-important part of life. Hadn’t her father taught her that?

‘Go upstairs,’ Joe said, undoing his belt. ‘Perhaps you will prove more of a wife between the sheets than you do in the kitchen.’

Eline looked at Joe startled, tempted to refuse angrily, but after a moment’s hesitation, she turned slowly towards the stairs. In the small bedroom, she pressed herself against the window and stared out at the sea. Was this to be her lot for ever more? A wife doing her duty without love or respect?

At least once Joe had loved her. He had bathed her in love, worshipping her. Surely all that couldn’t have changed so suddenly?

Perhaps the change was not her fault; perhaps it was the longing for a son that drove Joe, the longing for a legitimate heir, the company of another man of his own flesh and blood to share with him the joys of the sea, was that what Joe wanted? Or was it simply that Joe had found more warmth in the arms of his old love, Nina Parks, than he could ever find in the arms of his wife?

So it was her fault then, in the end it must be. Eline undressed and crept between the sheets aware of the light of the day penetrating between the curtains. It seemed almost shameless for Joe to claim his conjugal rights in the brightness of the sun. And yet wasn’t that when he made love to his paramour? He and Nina probably made love any time and anywhere.

Joe, when he came into bed, was eager for her. His abstinence from her bed had made him hungry, she realized that now. And yet when he put his hand on her small breasts, she knew instinctively that he would far rather be fondling the ample charms of Nina Parks.

She forced down her resentment as he threshed above
her, careless of her feelings, almost oblivious to her moans of pain as he thrust brutally against her unyielding flesh. He seemed to be punishing her and, at the same time, laying claim to her all over again. And when it was over and he had risen and gone out, Eline cried hot, bitter tears that did nothing to ease the ache within her.

The days seemed to pass in a haze of unhappiness for Eline. She saw little of Joe though now at least he came home each night to his own hearth. What did the gossips make of that? Eline wondered, though without much interest.

It was one morning when the summer sun spread shadows and bright patches of light on the grey slate floor that she realized that she had to do something with her life or go mad as she sat for endless hours before the window gazing out like a prisoner condemned to live for ever behind bars.

What Joe wanted was a doll, a plaything to amuse him when he was in the mood to be amused or when his paramour wasn’t readily available to satisfy his needs. Eline knew, with a sudden sense of clarity, that she would come to hate Joe if she didn’t do something that would change her life.

When Joe came in, she gave him his dinner in silence. She had made a special effort to cook a rich rabbit stew, his favourite meal, and to go with it, she had bought fresh crusty bread from the bakery.

As Joe ate, he, too, was silent, his blue eyes looking far away into the distance as though he was still at sea, straining to see an almost unrecognized horizon.

‘I’m going to work in the quarry,’ he spoke at last, pushing away his empty bowl. ‘Clements are taking on casual labour and I want to earn a bit more money. It’s always useful to have a ready supply of cash when the new season starts.’

‘But, Joe, you don’t have to work!’ Eline protested.
‘You are master of two oyster skiffs. Why do you want to work in the quarry?’

‘I’ve told you,’ Joe said reasonably, ‘for money.’ Eline poured his tea in silence though questions were throbbing through her mind, longing to be spoken. Surely there was enough money from the catches Joe had made in the spring, when the prices were up to ten shillings a thousand for oysters?

And there was the dowry she had brought him, the money from the farm, some of which had gone to buy the new boat, but some had surely been deposited safely in the bank?

‘Is Tom going to work in the quarry, too?’ she found herself asking and Joe gave her a look that would have frozen the sea.

He took a gulp of his tea and picked up his note book, making some rapid calculations in it without answering her question.

‘I could work!’ Eline said. ‘If we really need money, let me take a job in Swansea, I know I could find work with Mrs Miller in her emporium. I would like it, really I would, Joe.’

‘No.’ He spoke uncompromisingly and it was clear he was not even going to consider her suggestion. ‘I am not a man to shirk his duty to provide for his own,’ he ended stiffly.

Suddenly Eline was angry. ‘Indeed, the way you are pushing yourself to find extra work makes me wonder just how many are “your own”,’ she said quickly. ‘I suppose you would count Nina Parks and her son Tom as “your own”, wouldn’t you, Joe?’

He looked at her coolly. ‘What I do is my own business,’ he said and returned to his calculations.