The Shoemaker's Daughter (41 page)
It was later in the day when John came upstairs and, as Emily breathed in the familiar scent of leather that clung to all shoemakers, she felt love for her husband flow through her anew.
‘John,’ she held out her hand to him, ‘please John forgive me.’
‘What for, love?’ he said good-naturedly, he had obviously forgotten her attitude earlier that morning.
‘For trying to be bossy and for acting as though you were an employee not my husband.’
He bent and kissed her forehead. ‘I knew what you were like when I married you and I wouldn’t want you to change, well not too much anyway.’ He smiled. ‘I love your independent nature, Emm, and I know how hard you have worked to build up this business and I have no right to dictate to you at this stage.’
‘You have every right, John, you are my legal husband and therefore everything I have is yours.’
‘I know.’ John drew her to her feet and took her in his arms. ‘But I’ll never think of Emily’s Emporium as mine, it’s yours and all I want to do is to help you run it in the best way possible.’
‘John,’ Emily took his face in her hands, ‘I have an idea, why don’t we go down to Somerset, stay the night, perhaps several nights and then when we feel like it, choose some new stock for the shop?’
John kissed her mouth. ‘To be alone, just the two of us,
duw
, it sounds too good to be true.’
duw
, it sounds too good to be true.’
‘You agree then?’ Emily said eagerly. ‘We’ll travel by train, it’s so much quicker than by road and I’ll book us in to . . .’
John put his hand over her mouth. ‘Don’t rush things, Emm, let me do something towards this trip, will you?’
Emily laughed. ‘All right, I won’t say another word, I’ll leave it all to you.’
John kissed her again and this time, his lips lingered on hers for a long time. Emily clung to him, loving him so much that it hurt. She was so lucky, so very lucky to have him and she must never again make the mistake of treating him as anything less than her husband.
Hari sat in the bedroom window staring out into the garden of the house in Chapel Street. The early spring weather was bringing out the crocuses and here and there a few hardy snowdrops still remained white droplets against the earth.
In the bed behind her, Edward was asleep, his breathing uneven and ragged. He was no better than when the doctor had first seen him, not even Hari’s oft-applied herbal remedies seemed to help.
From the next room, Hari heard the faint cry of the baby and she rose quickly, not wishing to disturb Edward’s sleep. It was the nursemaid’s day off and from the way the girl kept making more and more complaints and excuses, Hari felt instinctively she would not be coming back.
Hari knew that the maid feared that Edward’s sickness might be catching even though the doctor assured everyone that it was not.
‘Come on then, David, my boy, I think you want changing, you’ve soaked yourself, haven’t you?’
David smiled and held out chubby fists towards her, he was almost four months old now and a bright, happy baby who gave very little trouble.
When he was comfortable, Hari held him to her breast where he nuzzled his dark head contentedly against her. Edward had wanted to employ a wet nurse but Hari would not hear of it.
‘My kind feed their own children,’ she’d said, fiercely protective of her rights and in his usual calm way Edward had smiled and given in to her.
But it was a long time since she had seen Edward smile, when he was awake, he simply stared up from his pillow listlessly compliant when Hari gave him food or medicine but making no effort to rouse himself except when he was forced to.
It was almost as though he had lost the will to live and Hari wondered guiltily if he could have possibly guessed the truth about David. But she shook the thought away, Edward hardly saw the boy these days and, when he did, it was only briefly.
Hari heard a knocking on the door and then it was opened and the voice of the maid was answered by a lower, masculine voice, one Hari could not mistake.
She sat David up and rubbed his back and then quickly buttoned up her bodice as she heard footsteps on the stairs.
‘Craig, there’s kind of you to come to see Edward.’ She looked up, unwillingly meeting his eyes. Craig, it was rumoured, was to be seen more and more in the company of Lady Caroline’s daughter, Elizabeth.
Craig smiled down at her, drinking in the sight of Hari with the baby in her arms.
‘How is Edward?’ he asked gently and Hari bit her lip, not knowing what to say.
‘About the same,’ she replied at last, ‘I’m so worried about him!’ The words burst from her lips, ‘I don’t know what to do to help him. I’ve tried all my herbal remedies and the doctor has given us several different medicines to try but nothing seems to do any good.’
‘I’ll go through and talk to him,’ Craig said gently. He looked longingly at David. ‘The baby, he’s well?’ he asked, his voice thick.
‘Strong as an ox,’ Hari answered quickly, ‘there’s nothing to worry about where David is concerned, thank God.’
She put him in his bed and the baby waved his small fists in the air, obviously content.
‘I’m lucky he’s such a good child,’ she said, ‘especially as I don’t think the nursemaid will be coming back.’
‘Why not?’ Craig asked in surprise. ‘I thought you were happy with her.’
‘I don’t think she’s happy with us,’ Hari replied ruefully, ‘she’s afraid she’ll catch whatever it is that Edward is suffering from.’
‘Shall I see what I can do?’ Craig said. ‘I may be able to ask around and find you someone else.’
‘No,’ Hari said quickly, ‘I don’t think that would be a very good idea.’
Craig nodded and then moved quietly across the landing and into Edward’s room. Hari stood for a moment, her hands over her face, giving herself a few moments to gain the strength to cope with whatever mood she might find Edward in when he was awakened.
Sometimes he would be so hopeless, so weary and defeated that she found it difficult to cheer his spirits.
But when she entered the room, Edward seemed to be making an effort to converse with Craig and she felt a slight lifting of her spirits.
‘Isn’t it good of my old friend to come round?’ Edward made an effort to smile but his skin was stretched taut across his bones and his eyes seemed more sunken than ever. But perhaps she was seeing her husband through Craig’s eyes for, although he tried to hide it, it was clear that Craig was shocked by the deterioration in Edward’s condition.
‘I’ve brought you a bottle of your favourite port,’ Craig said, ‘I’ve left it downstairs, perhaps Hari will give you some after your supper.’
‘That’s kind of you, Craig,’ Edward’s voice was weak and the effort to speak made him go into a spasm of coughing. Hari moved towards him and rubbed her hand gently over his thin spine.
‘I’ll get you some elixir, now, Eddie,’ she said, ‘I won’t be a minute.’
She knew it was a useless gesture, the elixir did nothing to ease the pain Edward was feeling, but at least it gave him the impression that something was being done.
On an impulse, Hari put a large measure of port into the glass and carried it up to her husband. If it didn’t cure what ailed Edward at least the drink might make him feel temporarily better.
It seemed to work for, after a moment, Edward pushed away the glass and smiled. ‘I don’t know what that new medicine is, Hari,’ he said weakly, ‘but it’s damned fine stuff.’
‘Here, have some more,’ Hari held the glass to his lips and Edward drank eagerly. He sighed softly and allowed Hari to set him back against the pillows.
‘I’m sorry, Craig, old fellow,’ he said, ‘but I feel very tired, I think I’ll just have a little doze.’
Hari covered Edward over and led the way from the bedroom. Craig followed her silently down the stairs and then into the sitting-room and he carefully closed the door after them.
‘Hari, Edward is very sick but then I don’t need to tell you that. What I’m worried about is have you discussed Edward’s financial affairs with him, I think it is something you are going to have to think about.’
Hari shook her head. ‘No, I can’t not while he is so ill, Craig.’
Craig strode towards the window, his hands thrust into his pockets. ‘It grieves me to see Edward in such a state,’ he said softly, ‘but now you have to consider yourself, Hari. If anything should happen to Edward where would you stand?’
‘I don’t know,’ Hari said, tears brimming in her eyes. ‘How can I begin to think of things like that when he lies up there suffering?’
‘Your business, how is it doing?’ Craig persisted. ‘Would you be solvent in the event that the very worst should happen?’
‘I would not be rich,’ Hari said softly. ‘I’ve allowed things to slide while Eddie’s been sick but I would survive on my own as I’ve always done.’
‘Look,’ Craig said, ‘I’ve got to go away, to Bristol on business, I will be gone for about a week but when I come back I will talk to Edward, matters of finance must be discussed, it’s no good ignoring the issues.’
Hari took a deep breath. ‘It’s good of you to be concerned, Craig, but it really is not for you to worry about. I can look after myself and David too.’
Craig moved across the room and took her by the shoulders. ‘Can you, Hari? You don’t see what I do, a young woman worn out with caring for a baby and a sick husband. You are only human, you can’t do everything alone, you must realize that.’
He paused, ‘Hari, let me at least talk to Edward, I won’t upset him, I promise you, I’ll be careful to let him think that my questions are asked as a general business move on my part.’
‘All right, Craig,’ Hari said at last, ‘but not now, let him rest, you can see how exhausted Edward is.’
‘As soon as I come back then.’ Craig smiled suddenly and Hari felt her heart move within her. ‘I love you, Hari,’ he said softly.
She held up her hands as though to ward him off. ‘Please don’t say that, my feelings of guilt are hard enough to bear as it is. Anyway,’ she forced a note of lightness into her voice, ‘didn’t I hear that you are still walking out with Lady Caroline’s daughter?’
Craig’s hands dropped to his sides. ‘She’s a friend, nothing more, she could never be anything more to me than that, Hari, she understands that even if her mother doesn’t.’
Hari moved away from him and stood with the table between them, staring out into the garden but without seeing the flowers or the neat railings that surrounded the house, or the street beyond but seeing Craig’s smile, the smile she saw every day on the face of her son.
‘Please go, Craig,’ she said gently, ‘I’ll see you when you get back from Bristol.’
He moved to the door. ‘Look after yourself, Hari,’ he said gently. ‘It will do no-one any good if you allow yourself to fall ill.’
‘I’ll do my best to avoid that,’ she said without turning. But she watched as he let himself out of the gate and as he strode away along the street, a tall handsome man, the father of her son, the man she loved and somehow she felt as if he was walking out of her life.
But her duty was here in this house with her sick husband, Edward needed her and she would give the last ounce of her strength to make life comfortable for him.
She thought with a sense of disquiet about Craig’s words of warning about their financial position. Did he think Edward so sick then that he couldn’t deal with them himself?
Quietly, Hari crept up the stairs, she passed the room where David was playing in his bed, gurgling cheerfully, watching his fists waving in the air.
Edward was asleep, a slight figure beneath the bedclothes. Hari moved closer and stared down at her husband, his breathing seemed a little easier and, silently, she walked on tiptoe away from the bed.
It was almost dark when Hari returned to Edward’s bedroom. She held a lamp in her hand and, as she set it down on the bedside table, Edward stirred.
‘Hello, Hari.’ His voice was threadlike but he was smiling.
‘Hari, forgive me, my love,’ he said in a whisper, raising his hand towards her, ‘I haven’t been a good husband, I’m sorry . . .’ His voice trailed into silence as Hari clasped his hand.
‘You’ve been a wonderful husband, Eddie, don’t say such things.’
‘I’m sorry, I love you, Hari, and our boy but I . . .’
Those were the last words he ever spoke. His hand fell back on to the bed and his eyes were closed.
‘Eddie!’ Hari said urgently, ‘Eddie!’ But even as she touched his shoulder, she knew it was a vain gesture, Edward had given up the fight, he had gone from her for ever.
She knelt by the bed and rested her head on the thin, unmoving chest. ‘My poor Eddie,’ she whispered, ‘you never knew that Davie wasn’t your son, at least, you died happy and now at last you can rest.’
27
The spring weather was bright but still cold when Emily and John made their way along the road to the Clark’s factory in Street.
‘Somerset is a very beautiful place, John,’ Emily said softly, her arm through his, ‘in the summer time the roses are plentiful and fragrant.’
‘Aye, it’s a fertile place all right,’ John agreed, ‘but give me the ruggedness of Wales every time.’
Emily shook his arm. ‘You are a home bird, aren’t you? Isn’t there any adventure in your soul?’
John looked down at her and smiled. ‘Being with a woman as unpredictable as you is adventure enough for a plain man like me,’ he said ruefully. ‘Who’d have thought I’d have upped and left Swansea on a steaming monster of a train and come all this way to England and at my time of life too?’
‘Go on with you, John!’ Emily reproved him. ‘Anyone would think you were old.’ Her face became grave.
‘I can’t stop thinking about Hari so alone now that Edward has been taken from her. I saw her face at the graveside and she looked so pale and wan that I wanted to put my arms around her.’
‘You did all you could, Emm,’ John said softly, ‘you went to see Hari and found that her friends from the theatre were handling the funeral arrangements so try not to worry too much, she has her child after all.’
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