The Oyster Catchers (2 page)

‘
Duw
, that’s a fine picture,’ Carys said pointing. She moved closer and peered upwards. ‘The corn could
almost be real and look there’s your name in the corner, Emmeline, an outlandish name, mind, if you ask me,’ Carys added with a good natured smile. ‘Whoever drew it, though, was very clever. Was it a present?’

‘I painted it as a present to myself,’ Eline said shyly. Carys’s eyebrows lifted.

‘I’m good at painting, anything so long as it’s the bottom of my Sam’s boat!’

She sank into the old rocking-chair near the fire and watched as Eline made the tea. Carys edged close to the fire, hitching up her skirts and allowing the warmth of the flames to play on her plump knees.

‘
Duw
, my bones are aching a bit today,’ she said. ‘I hope I don’t end up like my mam, gnarled and knotted like an old tree.’

‘I suppose it’s just the coldness of the wind,’ Eline said comfortingly. She sat at the table and put the cups on the scrubbed surface. Sighing she glanced around her. No wonder everything was neat and tidy, she had so much time on her hands now that she was married and it was strange after working all the hours the good Lord made on the farm.

‘What about babbis?’ Carys said, obviously inclined to pursue the subject. ‘Haven’t they come along or don’t you want none?’

Eline sighed. ‘I haven’t been married a year yet, mind, and so far the babies haven’t come along. I don’t know why because Joe is so …’ She broke off, the colour flooding into her cheeks.

‘Don’t blush,
merchi
,’ Carys winked, ‘there’s many a woman in the village can testify to your Joe’s energy.’ She glanced quickly at Eline. ‘Not since your marriage, mind, and what he did before carries no blame, him being a single man and all.’

Eline digested this in silence, it was a new and unwelcome idea that Joe had loved other women before she came into his life. But then he was a mature man
and she could not have expected him to live like a monk all these years. And yet she felt a distinct throb of jealousy at the thought of her husband with another woman. She concealed her thoughts from Carys with a smile. ‘I don’t blame him,’ she said softly and not quite truthfully.

‘But then,’ Carys continued relentlessly, ‘I suppose living on a farm you are used to, well, nature. Males got to have their comforts, like, they won’t go without at any rate.’

‘Who are you doing the pickling for?’ Eline changed the subject abruptly.

‘Oh, just some townsfolk, don’t know who exactly,’ Carys said. ‘My Sam’s idea, it was. I don’t hold with pickling fine oysters, mind, I like them baked between two pieces of beef or cooked in a pan with a bit of bacon. But then a sale is a sale, I suppose.’

‘Joe is lucky,’ Eline said thoughtfully. ‘He’s got a good trade with old Mr Lewis, buys all that Joe can catch he does.’

‘Aye, well, Cal Lewis got the big place up in Swansea, mind, with a lovely oyster saloon at the back of his fish shop
and
he’s got a smaller shop in the village. Old friend of your Joe’s dad was Mr Lewis, mind, and loyal too. Don’t see much of that these days.’

Carys drank some of her tea. ‘But your Joe is going to have his work cut out running two skiffs, that’s what I think at any rate. Did well with his old
Emmeline
, he did, but now he has to depend on another man to skipper his new boat.’

Eline glanced at her. ‘Aye, and he’s got no one in mind yet, looking around he is but in no hurry, wants to check that all is working well on the
Oyster Sunrise
before anyone takes her out.’

Carys put down her empty cup with a clink of finality and rubbed her chapped and reddened hands together. ‘Well, I’d better get on with my work, can’t sit around
all day like some.’ She smiled to soften her words. ‘My Sam can’t afford no help but me, and because I have no babbis he don’t see why I shouldn’t work.’

Eline saw her out with no comment and, when Carys had stepped into the cool of the street, closed the door gently behind her. Eline rested her head against the warm wooden planks of the door, smelling the smoke of Joe’s old jacket on the hook, her eyes closed in an attitude of despair. What had she done, marrying a man she did not love and coming with him to live in this strange place? She must be mad.

She pulled herself upright and went to the sink and washed the cups in hot water from the kettle. When she had dried them and put them away she then set about making a pot of
cawl
for Joe. The soup was rich with mutton and vegetables and soon the smell rose invitingly and Eline realized she was hungry.

She ate a little bread and cheese and afterwards tidied away her dishes. She banked up the fire and stared around her, contemplating another long, empty day.

If only Joe would let her work with the oysters as did the other village women, she would at least have something to occupy her time. But Joe had a slick, well-run routine that had served him for years. Nina Parks worked the oyster perches for him, sorting and cleaning the catch ready for market. And sometimes, when the season was at its height, Nina’s three daughters also worked on the oyster perches.

Eline, curious, had asked Joe about the Parks family once and had been given an unusually curt reply.

‘Nina’s husband was my best friend,’ he said. ‘He was drowned at sea and I decided to look after his widow and children, all right?’

Eline had warmed to Joe then, knowing him for a kind and good man, a man whose boots she wasn’t fit to clean. She shook off her thoughts of the Parks family, not wanting to dwell on the suspicions about Nina that
wormed into her mind, and moved suddenly to take her coat from the hook behind the door. She might as well get out into the fresh air, there was nothing to keep her here, tied to the kitchen all day long.

The wind was dropping now, just as Skipper George had predicted and the sea was calmer, washing the shore gently like the tongue of a friendly dog. The skiffs were gone from view but Joe and all the other men would be safe now that the weather was being kind.

She walked slowly. The village was small and all too soon she would reach the shops. Perhaps it would be interesting to look into the new boot and shoe shop that Carys had made such a fuss about.

The shop was situated near the end of the village street, just before the road turned to wind uphill and just before the mullion-windowed village inn. It was a double-fronted shop, the windows swathed in dark silk, the shoes set daintily apart as if to step out into a dance and Eline recognized the influence of Mrs Grenfell in the elegant display.

‘Good morning.’ The voice was close to her ear and Eline turned abruptly to look up at the man, a stranger, daring to speak to her. His eyes were full of laughter, his mouth smiling beneath the fine moustache. There was a dimple in his chin and he smelled of fresh air and shaving soap.

‘I’m William Davies,’ he explained, ‘proprietor of the new shop. May I count on your custom some time in the future?’

Eline tried to look away but something in his eyes held her still. She felt as if she knew this man, as though they had been together in the long distant past. She wanted to rest her head on his shoulder, feel his arms around her holding her tenderly. But that was absurd, she had never seen him before.

‘I’m sorry if I startled you,’ he said easily. ‘Forgive me for staring, but I feel somehow as if we’ve met before.’

From the cultured tone of his voice, it was obvious that William Davies was a man of breeding and stature and the fine cut of his suit and the crisp white of his shirt confirmed her impression.

‘No, you didn’t startle me.’ Eline felt awkward in her everyday coat and her heavy working boots. She swallowed hard.

‘I’m sure I will buy my shoes at your shop, it looks very elegant. Reminds me of Mrs Grenfell’s fine place in Swansea.’

‘That’s very perceptive of you,’ William Davies said softly. ‘Mrs Grenfell and I are old friends, I did my training with her.’

It was no surprise; Eline had known this man was different, a toff who mingled with gentry, the likes of the Grenfells. She tried to draw her gaze away from him, but his eyes seemed to bore into her as if seeking out her every thought and emotion.

‘Not so perceptive,’ she said drily, ‘your shop is the talk of the village.’ She hesitated a moment and then turned away from the temptation of his eyes and his smile.

‘I’d better be going,’ Eline said softly, but she glanced back at William Davies, breathing in the scents of him and feeling that somehow their lives were bound together.

‘Would you like to come inside?’ He spoke quickly. ‘I would like to show you the interior of my shop, if you have time, that is.’

Almost against her will, Eline found herself following him inside, knowing with a sense of joy that he wanted to prolong the moment.

The shop was starkly furnished and the smell of leather permeated the long room. Curtains swathed the walls and William, seeing her glance, moved aside one of the drapes to reveal rows upon rows of boots and shoes in every style and shape.

‘Anything you could wish for is here,’ he said and his words, softly spoken, were imbued with hidden meaning. Eline sighed softly and moved to pick up a high laced-up boot from one of the stands. The leather was soft kid set against highly polished calf and the heel was elegant and well-shaped giving the boot flair.

‘You like that style?’ William asked. His hand, hovering over the boot, touched hers briefly and Eline felt a sudden shock of emotion running through her.

She couldn’t speak, she turned and moved quickly towards the door as though a thousand devils were at her heels. In the chill of the street, she stopped, feeling suddenly foolish, and, turning, lifted a hand in a gesture of farewell.

William Davies was staring after her, a thoughtful look on his face. He inclined his head and turned away, obviously he had more important things to do than ponder over Eline’s strange behaviour.

She returned home, struggling to find some sort of composure. Why was it, she asked herself, that contact with a stranger had set up such a vortex of emotions within her?

Eline paused at the edge of the sea, the tide on the ebb was never far out from the beach at Oystermouth unlike the wide sweeping bay of Swansea where the sand flats stretched for a mile at least.

Out there, on the restless seas was her husband, a good man, hard-working and a fine oyster fisherman. He had shown her nothing but kindness and for him, a certain sort of passion and yet here she was being unfaithful to him, if only in her mind.

‘
Duw
, it’s fine for some,’ the voice of Carys Morgan interrupted Eline’s thoughts. ‘Day-dreaming your life away like a lady of leisure is what you have the time for now, is it?’

‘I’ve just been to the shops.’ Eline was flustered as
though Carys could look into her mind and see the wicked thoughts that were there.

‘Haven’t bought much.’ Carys folded her big arms. ‘Not going to make much dinner for your man with a handful of nothing, are you?’

Eline forced a smile. ‘I was curious,’ she thought it best to stick as closely to the truth as she dared, ‘I wanted to see this new boot and shoe shop you talked about.’

‘Aye and the handsome young owner, too, I suppose.’ Carys laughed. ‘Well, I don’t blame you and isn’t the man all I said he was?’

‘Oh, he’s handsome enough, I’ll agree, but it was a pair of fine kid boots that really took my fancy.’

‘Then you must be a fool or a liar!’ Carys said in amusement. ‘
Duw
, I’m an old biddy alongside you and yet I felt a stirring inside me when I looked at that wonderful man.’

Eline felt some of her tension drain away. If a sensible woman like Carys could feel drawn to William Davies then Eline couldn’t be at fault for simply agreeing with her.

‘There is something fine about him, I must admit,’ Eline said quietly. ‘But perhaps he cultivates a way with women just to be a good salesman.’

‘I doubt that,’ Carys said. ‘The man is just naturally charming without making any effort at all.’

Eline fidgeted uneasily. ‘You’re right, but I can’t stand here talking all day, I’ve done enough time wasting as it is.’

She moved away. ‘See you later, when the skiffs come in.’

She bought bread from the bakers, hardly noticing the hot, crusty smell of the fresh baked loaf and quickly retraced her steps towards home.

Once in her own kitchen, she hung up her coat and pushed the kettle on to the fire before sinking into a chair. In spite of her light-hearted conversation with
Carys, Eline knew that her meeting with William Davies was momentous to her. It wasn’t just his charm or even his fine looks, there had been a rapport between them and Eline was sure he felt it too. The tension when his hand had brushed hers was clear in her memory as if it had just happened.

She allowed herself a few dreamy moments as she made the tea and set the pot on the hob to keep warm. She wanted to savour the experience of the morning because she knew it must never happen again. Her silly fancy for William Davies must be forgotten for she was a respectably married woman.

She poured the weak, glowing tea into her cup and sank down in the rocking-chair, the cup between her hands. She would forget William Davies and the riot of feelings he had woken in her but not just yet. No, not just yet.

‘I think it will be a great success.’ William smiled at Hari Grenfell across the table of Lewis’s Oyster Saloon. ‘The locals are already curious about the new shop. Indeed I had one potential customer in earlier today and took the trouble to show her round, though I’m not officially open yet, of course.’

He saw Hari smile and a feeling of affection for her washed over him. Hari was respected as the wife of one of Swansea’s leading citizens, but was also accepted in her own right as a successful business woman. Over the past few years, Hari had become a household name in Swansea for finely fashioned, bespoke boots and shoes. And moreover, she was famous countrywide for her work on modified footwear for children born with deformities of the feet.

Her marriage to Craig Grenfell had been the talk of Swansea when it had taken place almost two years ago; the woman from the lower orders who had risen so high now had the unstinting admiration of her fellows. And yet she was still the same lovable, generous Hari he’d always admired.