The Oyster Catchers (41 page)

‘It’s not the regular fishermen like Sam who’ve been working the beds out of season but the casuals that come from other parts.’

Eline felt quiet, unable to find the words to comfort Carys for she knew that without oysters, the village would probably die. People would move to the town and Oystermouth would be nothing but a ghost town.

‘Poor Mrs Marsh is selling up her boarding house,’ Carys continued talking, as if glad to get her worries out into the open. ‘Not many guests staying there any longer, the regulars have either died off or set up in their own homes and with no one new coming to the village, there’s nothing to keep her going here any longer in that big old house.’

‘What about Will Davies?’ Eline asked with a sudden feeling of panic. ‘Where is he staying?’

Carys shrugged. ‘I don’t know, he might still be at the boarding house, at least until it is sold.’ Her shoulders slumped. ‘If the fishing dries up completely, what will happen to us all?’

Eline bit her lip, her sense of panic abating. Will had not left the district but, perhaps, on reflection, it would be better for everyone if he had.

‘Don’t worry, Carys,’ Eline leaned forward, ‘there’s bound to be a better harvest next year, particularly if Swansea Bay is closed. I know it will be tough now but give the oysters a chance to breed and matters are bound to improve.’

‘No,’ Carys shook her head, ‘the oysters take years to mature, nothing will happen by next year, lovie.’

Eline realized how very little she knew about the business of oyster breeding and fishing and her cheeks flamed.

‘I’m sorry, Carys, it was stupid of me to comment on something I know nothing about.’

‘You were only trying to cheer me up,’ Carys said. She straightened her shoulders. ‘And quite right too, I’m being stupid, not you.’ She smiled. ‘I can always go and work in the quarry, I’m not helpless.’ She poured some more tea.

‘Anyway, Nina Parks got no money worries from what I hear, she has no rent to pay a demanding landlord.’

Eline took the fresh tea and sipped it before answering. ‘Joe felt that Nina was entitled to have the house and I don’t blame him.’

‘Very generous of you,’ Carys said drily, ‘many a woman would have fought such a thing tooth and nail, you were his legal wife, mind.’

‘I know,’ Eline said, ‘but I wanted to abide by Joe’s wishes. He did leave me the boat after all.’

‘And a fat lot of good that’s going to do you now,’
Carys dismissed. ‘Who wants an oyster skiff when there’s no oysters?’

Eline put down her cup and rose to her feet, shaking out the creases in her skirt. ‘If I can help in any way, Carys, just let me know, all right?’ Eline made up her mind to bring a basket of fruit and vegetables with her next time she called. It would be difficult to get Carys to accept what she’d look on as charity, but if Eline concocted some story about having too much food herself perhaps Carys would relent and take the gift.

Eline stood for a moment outside the small cottage she had shared with Joe and looked around her wistfully, she had been so happy to come here as a bride, so proud of the ring on her finger and her status as a married woman. And yet she had failed Joe miserably; could she ever forgive herself for that?

Eline began to walk back along the roadway in the direction of the train terminus. She looked around her seeing everything with fresh eyes after her talk with Carys and for the first time Eline realized that real poverty was beginning to stalk the small village. Oystermouth was on the verge of disaster.

Eline held the letter in her hand and re-read it for the second time. She still could not believe the good news it contained.

A carriage drew to a halt outside Eline’s office and glancing up, she saw Hari Grenfell alight, her skirt held high to reveal the now fashionable cuff boot in softest kid, dyed brown to match Mrs Grenfell’s outfit.

Eagerly, Eline opened the door and smiled. ‘Come in, but excuse the mess.’ She gestured at the littered desk. ‘It’s not always this bad, but I’ve had a few ideas lately and I seem to have used up an awful lot of paper working them out.

‘That’s all right, it reminds me of my workroom at home. I can’t stay long, I’ve just come to tell you how well your design is going, it’s been taken up by a French house now and your future as a designer is secured abroad as well as at home.’ She smiled. ‘I’m so proud to have had a hand in all this, really I am.’

‘Please sit down.’ Eline moved some papers from a chair and realized that she still had the letter clutched in her hand.

‘Perhaps you can advise me,’ Eline said quickly, ‘I’m in a bit of a muddle, I don’t know what to think.’

‘What is it,’ Hari asked, ‘anything wrong?’

Eline shook her head, ‘Quite the opposite.’ She seated herself behind the desk and looked down at the letter. ‘I did some portraits a while ago for a lady in Bristol, a Mrs Charlotte Brentford.’

She glanced at Hari. ‘I wasn’t sure I could do it but the portrait I painted of Maria, their eldest daughter,
was sent to her prospective husband and he liked the portrait so much that he came down from London immediately to meet Maria. Well, it seems they fell in love right away and they are to be married.’

‘Congratulations,’ Hari said, ‘I see your talents are endless. I think it’s wonderful, but why does all this put you in a muddle?’

‘Well,’ Eline rushed on, ‘this man, Lord Greyfield, is a patron of the arts and it seems he would like to set me up in a gallery in Swansea so that I can do my paintings and sell them both here and in London. He would handle that end for me.’

‘And take a commission I expect,’ Hari said gently. ‘Still this is a wonderful opportunity, if you want to take it. The question is, do you?’

Eline sighed. ‘I don’t know if I’ll ever be good enough to sell work in London, but I’ve always loved painting pictures. I remember doing sketches when I was a child living on the farm.’ She looked up suddenly in surprise and smiled. ‘Yes, I think it
is
what I want to do.’

Hari looked disappointed. ‘Well, the arts world’s gain will be a loss to the shoemaking industry, but if it is really what you want then you must go all out to make it a success. Perhaps you would still help me in an advisory capacity from time to time, keep the designing as a second string to your bow. It’s always useful to have more than one outlet.

‘In time you may well have enough capital to develop both talents, run a thriving studio and when times are quiet, as they are at the moment, use your talents in the shoe trade. Footwear is always needed.’

‘You talk a lot of sense,’ Eline said softly, ‘but you have such a fine talent yourself that I’m sure you don’t need me.’

Hari smiled. ‘It’s kind of you to say so, Eline, but one day I’m going to be the one who is honoured to be mentioned in the same breath as you.’

She rose to her feet. ‘I must get back home, I promised Craig I wouldn’t be out long but remember, Eline, all my good wishes go with you.’

She paused. ‘You can look on your work with designing and window dressing as a good grounding in the years to come, I feel sure of that. Take care, Eline, and if there is anything I can do to help you, don’t hesitate to come to see me.’

When Eline was alone, she read the letter again and she was filled with a sudden surge of energy; she must look for suitable premises, that was the first thing she must do.

She looked out of the window at the wall of the building opposite and wondered where the best site would be for her gallery. She would need somewhere where there was plenty of space and light, room to work and room to exhibit, somewhere the rich of Swansea could come and gaze in comfort.

Mrs Marsh’s boarding house! The thought sprang into her mind like a breath of scented breeze and she smiled. She thought of the large attic that looked out over the sea, facing south, and of the high-ceilinged elegant rooms – she knew she had found just the place.

She chewed the end of her pencil, her mind racing. She would need staff, some one to clean the rooms, some one who would be unobtrusive and reliable. Carys Morgan, of course! And Sam, her husband, perhaps he would be able and willing to frame the paintings when they were dry. It would provide practical help for the couple until the oyster industry picked up again. Perhaps in time, Eline would be able to afford to increase her staff and where better to provide work than the village which was beginning to feel the pinch of poverty? Perhaps in time the villagers would even forget their hostility towards her – it was a happy thought.

It was only a few days later that Eline was seated in the front parlour of the boarding house trying to
convince Mrs Marsh that to sell her home would be the best thing for her to do in the circumstances.

‘But where would I live if I sell the boarding house?’ Mrs Marsh asked helplessly. ‘I don’t want to leave the village and I owe such a lot to the bank I won’t be able to afford much.’ It seemed as though the decline in the oyster industry had already caused more misery than Eline had imagined.

‘What about the cottage Nina Parks used to rent?’ Eline suggested. ‘I believe it’s still empty. You would still be living in the village and your expenses would be so much less.’

‘But then there’s Mr Davies, I can’t throw him out into the street, can I? He’s been with me a long time now, a fine young man he is, too.’ It was Mrs Marsh’s last protest and Eline recognized that with a small dart of satisfaction.

‘I will talk to Mr Davies and I won’t just turn him out into the street, you can be sure of that,’ she said, her heart beating uncomfortably fast.

‘Right then, that settles it.’ Mrs Marsh leaned back in her chair, the lines of worry easing out of her forehead. ‘Mrs Harries, you have my word on it that the boarding house is yours.’

As Eline walked out into the street, she felt a strange mixture of feelings; she was on her way, she had taken the first steps towards owning her gallery and yet now there was the problem of facing Will. She stood in the street and looked up at the tall, elegant building set on three floors. There would be ample room for a discreet gallery on the ground and first floors and the top floor could be her living space.

The attic with its excellent light and the view of the beach would be her work room where she would paint her pictures. A cold hand touched her; she supposed the commissions would come in, but what if they didn’t?

And what would she say to William? He could hardly
stay in the boarding house, he would certainly object to sharing his living accommodation with the public and in any case they both couldn’t live in the same building.

Perhaps the obstacles were too formidable. Was she reaching for the unobtainable, carried away by foolish dreams that had no foundation in reality?

Tea rooms – her mind leapt forward again, revelling in the project, unable to let it go. The kitchen and scullery at the back of the house could easily be turned into a tea room especially if she extended them into the small back garden. You see? she told herself, it will work, it has to work.

It was more difficult than Eline had anticipated to sell the boat and it was only with the help of Mr Frogmore that at last the
Emmeline
was bought by a sailor from Bristol. Eline recognized that it was the end of an era, her life as the wife of an oyster fisherman was over and a new phase was beginning.

After that, the purchase of the boarding house moved ahead so swiftly that Eline scarcely had time to think. She sometimes felt a dart of panic that she was chancing too much, far too soon. She had taken on a lot of debt in order to buy the house, but she felt with the commissions that were in the pipeline and the money from the sale of the cuff boot, she could easily meet her commitments.

She was sitting in her office, working on the design for a cuff bag to go with the boots and gloves, thinking how wise Hari had been to urge her to keep up her design work, when the door opened and a tall figure stood blocking out the light.

‘Good morning,’ Eline said formally, trying to see through the gloom.

The man came forward and with a small shock, Eline recognized William. Instinctively she rose to her feet, disturbed at the anger in his face.

‘I kept away from you, fool that I was, I believed you needed time to mourn.’ Will’s voice was bitter. ‘Instead, you were busy planning your future, buying the boarding house from Mrs Marsh without even bothering to talk to me. But then why should you worry if you were putting me out on to the street? Clearly you’ve never given a damn about me.’ His tone was heavy with sarcasm.

‘I’m sorry,’ Eline said, her mouth dry. ‘I meant to talk to you about it.’

‘How very kind of you! Did you think the blow of losing my home would be any the less if you broke the news to me?’ He spoke abruptly. ‘It seems to me you have always been intent on doing just what
you
wanted to do.’

‘That’s not true!’ Eline protested, her thoughts racing. ‘I just didn’t think you …’

‘No, you didn’t think at all,’ he said. ‘Well, you needn’t worry about me, I shall move out as soon as I can, I won’t inconvenience you or stand in the way of any of your precious plans.’

‘Get out!’ Eline said harshly but he had already turned away and was striding through the door, his shoulders taut with anger.

Eline collapsed into her seat, her designs forgotten as she put her head in her hands. It seemed she was doomed to disappoint everyone for whom she cared. She suddenly felt tears well up in her throat, she was struggling to succeed and what for? Was the price of success a lifetime of loneliness?

Emily sat opposite her step-daughter and stared at Sarah with cautious eyes. ‘What is it you want?’ she asked guardedly.

‘I can’t stand this awful marriage,’ Sarah said truculently. ‘Geoffrey is an unfeeling monster, I can’t live with him, he cares more about that man Chas than he does
about my welfare.’ Her face was downcast, a tear trembled on her lashes, she looked like a small child about to have a tantrum.

Emily sighed. Sarah as always was inclined to exaggerate everything, she revelled in airing what she saw as her problems.

‘Is your husband violent?’ Emily asked as gently as she could. Sarah shook her head.