The Shoemaker's Daughter (44 page)
‘But I was a nursemaid for many years when I was younger, always did have a way with babies, me.’
Beatie sighed. ‘You can have a way with my rips any time you like!’
‘I’ll mind them for you whenever you like, you know that,’ Hetty said, smiling. ‘Get up off your backside and make us all a cuppa while I talk business with your friend.’
Beatie sighed. ‘Put on by all my friends, I am, too good-natured by half, that’s me.’ She pushed the kettle on the flames and, as Hari watched her, she was on edge, wondering if there was a room available for her in Hetty’s house or not.
Hetty seemed to read her thought. ‘Parlour,’ she said, ‘you and the baby can have that. I’ve just let the middle room or you could have had that too.’ She glanced at Beatie, ‘Take Hari to see the parlour, there’s a good girl, the kettle isn’t boiling yet and it’s no good standing over it, it won’t boil any quicker.’
Beatie shrugged, ‘See how this friend of mine treats me, like an idiot, I don’t know why I bother with her.’ But she rested her hand on Hetty’s plump shoulder for a moment before leading the way back along the passage.
‘Here we are.’ She flung open the door and Hari was pleasantly surprised to see that the room was quite large and spacious, the window looking out into the street but hung with good thick curtains. ‘Hetty likes you,’ Beatie said softly, ‘she’s never offered anyone the parlour before.’
Hari moved into the room that was filled with small tables and a variety of odd chairs as well as a scrolled back sofa.
‘Don’t worry,’ Beatie said, ‘Hetty will have this place ready for you in a tick, you’ll see.’
Hari was doubtful but she was grateful that at least she had a roof over her head. ‘Thank you for helping me,’ she said, smiling warmly.
‘Well, Cleg and me will always be grateful to you for what you did for our Billy,’ Beatie said. ‘And now you’ve got a new friend in Hetty, you’ll see. Once she takes to you she’s loyal to the last.’
Suddenly, Hari, who had not shed a tear since Edward’s funeral, began to cry. Great sobs shook her body and she put her hands over her face, embarrassed by her own show of emotion.
‘There, there, Hari, cry it all out, it’s only natural like.’ Beatie comforted, putting her arm around Hari’s shoulder and guiding her back towards the kitchen. ‘The poor girl is worn out,’ she explained to Hetty, ‘just lost her husband, see it’s all been too much for her.’
‘Well, she’s got Hetty to look out for her now.’ The big woman rose to her feet. ‘Here I made the tea, it’s all poured out, get it down the girl while I see to her room.’
Hari wiped away the tears but they came afresh, she could not seem to stop crying now she’d started. From upstairs, she heard Hetty’s voice talking loudly, then there was a series of bumps and Beatie leaned forward touching Hari’s arm.
‘Don’t cry any more, you got a good home now, see how Hetty’s got her other lodgers organized, they’re doing your room for you right away, you can move in as soon as you like. I told you she liked you, didn’t I? Well, you’ll be as snug as a flea in this house.’
Hari was on her third cup of tea when Hetty returned flushed but smiling to the kitchen. ‘All done, you got your room, girl, and nothing more to worry about.’
‘The rent?’ Hari asked wiping her eyes and Hetty waved a big arm. ‘I’ll ask no more than you can afford, don’t worry.’
Beatie was pulling on her shawl. ‘I’ll say good night then, Hetty,’ she said, ‘and I expect I’ll see you soon.’
Hari followed Beatie along the passageway and stopped near the front door. The parlour had undergone a transformation, all the small furniture had gone except for an easy chair and one small table.
A bed stood against the wall farthest from the window over which the heavy curtains were closed, giving an intimate atmosphere to the room. A cheerful fire burning in the blackened grate threw out a comforting warmth.
‘I’ll be back tomorrow with my things, and thank you Hetty,’ she said, her voice husky.
Cleg saw her back to Chapel Street, carrying the still-sleeping David in his huge arms.
‘Now if you want my cart to take any of your furniture to Hetty’s let me know,’ he said, as he stopped outside her door.
‘I won’t be taking any furniture, Cleg,’ she said, ‘just a few possessions but thank you all the same.’
As Hari undressed and crawled into bed beside her son, she felt an immense sadness fall over her. She looked at the empty space that Edward had once occupied and reached out a hand to touch the pillow. Poor Edward, he didn’t deserve to die so young.
She turned resolutely towards the small figure of her son and her arm wound protectively around him. Tomorrow, she would shut the door on her old life for ever and begin to work for a better future.
Craig had found Mr Meyer back in the office the next day but, to his dismay, the business had taken some time to sort out. The man had numerous problems, not the least of them being he didn’t know if he had enough capital spare to pay for more stock of French calf.
‘I will have to speak to my accountant about it,’ he said, ‘I must have some time, you realize these things can not be rushed.’
Craig longed to take the man by the collar and shake him into action but he swallowed his impatience and forced a smile.
‘I can spare you two days, Mr Meyer,’ he said, ‘and then I’m afraid I must get back to Swansea, I have pressing business there.’
‘I’ll do my best,’ Meyer said but his tone carried little conviction.
It had in fact taken more like another week with Craig urging and cajoling the man to make up his mind. At last Craig had issued an ultimatum. ‘I leave tomorrow,’ he said, ‘while I’ve been waiting for you, I’ve managed to see the rest of my customers and now there’s nothing more to keen me in the Bristol area.’
Grudgingly, Meyer had given him an order but it was a large one which compensated in some way for the delay. It was with a sigh of relief that Craig made his way to the station and began the first stage of his journey.
During the journey Craig thought of little else but Hari, wondering how she was coping and if Edward’s condition had improved at all. He must have slept some of the time but at last, after what seemed endless hours, he finally arrived home in Swansea.
Summer Lodge smelled of beeswax, bright fires gleamed in the rooms in spite of the pale sunshine shining outside.
As soon as he had washed and shaved and eaten a hasty meal, Craig took a cab to Chapel Street and stood for a moment, staring up at the whitewashed house surrounded by neat railings.
In some way that he couldn’t fathom, the place looked different. He walked up the path and pushed at the door, it was locked.
He moved around the back and a strange woman looked up at him curiously. She was bent over a scrubbing board, her sleeves rolled high above rounded elbows.
‘Is Mrs Morris at home?’ Craig asked with a sense of growing apprehension.
‘Who?’ the woman asked. ‘There’s no-one of that name here sir,’ she added, taking in the cut of his clothes and the elegance of his boots.
‘But that’s absurd!’ Craig said. ‘I left Mr and Mrs Morris in this house when I went away a few weeks ago, there must be some mistake.’
‘Doctor Grayham lives here now at any rate,’ the woman said, ‘I does for him, washing and such, perhaps you’d like to speak to him?’
‘Yes,’ Craig said, ‘I would.’ He strode into the house ignoring the woman’s look of outrage and stared around him. The furniture was the same, the drapes and decorations were the same and the same pictures hung on the walls but there was a strangeness about the house, it was almost as though Craig had never been there before.
‘Can I help you, sir?’ The voice was young and friendly but with an air of authority in it that couldn’t be ignored. Craig spun round to face a man in his early thirties dressed casually and with a pipe in his hand.
‘I’m sorry if I’m intruding,’ Craig said, ‘I came to see a friend of mine, Edward Morris, he was living here – until a few weeks ago anyway. Do you know where he is now?’
‘Come into the study,’ the man said and there was a kindliness in his tone that told Craig something was very wrong.
‘I’m Doctor Grayham,’ the man indicated the port on the table, ‘would you like some, I think you might need it?’
‘Thank you.’ Craig took the seat the doctor indicated and watched him pouring a good measure of the ruby liquid.
‘I’m afraid it’s bad news,’ the doctor said taking a seat opposite Craig. ‘Mr Morris succumbed to his illness and died. I’m sorry to be the one to give you the bad news.’
Craig felt a sense of shock, he’d realized Edward was sick but he hadn’t realized how sick.
God, how had Hari coped with it alone? He should have been beside her, comforting her, helping her with the funeral arrangements.
‘Hari, Mrs Morris, why did she leave the house?’ Craig was bewildered, even if Hari didn’t want to remain in the house where Edward had died, how could she have disposed of the property so quickly. ‘Did she rent the house to you?’
The doctor shook his head. ‘No, as I understand it, the Morrises were merely renting it themselves, they didn’t own it.’
‘I didn’t know,’ Craig said. ‘Do you happen to know where Mrs Morris went?’ he asked and was dismayed when the doctor shook his head.
‘She was gone days before I moved in.’ Doctor Grayham poured another drink. ‘I don’t think she had any choice, apparently there was rent owing and the landlord is a tough old stick, he wouldn’t be the sort to be amiable about such things.’
Craig shook his head when the doctor proffered the bottle. ‘No, thank you, I’d better go.’
‘I’m very sorry I couldn’t be of more help,’ the doctor said as he showed Craig to the door.
Craig turned. ‘Could you give me the name and address of the landlord, perhaps he would know something.’
‘Most certainly, I’ll fetch it for you.’ The doctor disappeared into the study to emerge a few minutes later with a piece of paper in his hand. ‘Here, and the best of luck in your search.’
Craig looked at the address, it was a house near Summer Lodge. He hailed a cab and gave the man directions before climbing inside the coach.
How Hari must have suffered, losing Edward so suddenly and then being thrown out of her home. And where could she have gone? He thought suddenly of the theatre, Hari had friends there, someone would surely know where she was.
He called to the driver giving him new directions and the coach bounced along the cobbled roads towards Goat Street.
The lights were shining from the doorway and a queue of people stood waiting to enter the foyer, it seemed a performance was just about to begin.
Craig hurried to the back of the theatre and made his way along the passages that led to the tiny dressing-rooms. He was looking for the flamboyant figure of Charles Briant, but he was nowhere to be seen.
A girl in a gaudy costume was coming towards him and he stopped before her.
‘Do you know where Charles Briant is?’ he asked and the girl smiled up at him, long eyelashes fluttering.
‘He’s gone away with Meg, his new bride,’ she said moving closer to him. ‘Can I help?’
‘When will he be back?’ Craig said desperately and the girl shrugged bare shoulders, pouting at his lack of interest.
‘Don’t know, they haven’t long been married, mind. Visiting her folks in Ireland they are, didn’t leave any address, didn’t want to be disturbed.’
Craig left the theatre and looked round for a cab, the street was empty now, the crowd had moved into the theatre. Impatiently, Craig set out on foot in the direction of Summer Lodge.
The landlord of the Chapel Street house lived only a stone’s throw from the lodge and Craig knocked on the door loudly, waiting with a growing sense of frustration for it to be opened. He knew instinctively that he would get no help from the landlord and as it turned out he was right.
‘Don’t know where Mrs Morris is gone.’ The man was elderly with a sour turn to his lips and a greying beard that hung untidily over his waistcoat. ‘If I did I’d be after her for three months’ rent,’ he continued in a whining voice that grated on Craig’s ears.
‘Send the bill for the rent to me, Craig Grenfell at Summer Lodge,’ he said impatiently. ‘Are you sure you don’t know anything about Mrs Morris, anything at all?’
‘Well,’ the man hesitated, ‘I don’t know if it’s any use to you, but the young man who used to live at Chapel Street with the Morrises, it seems he had some sort of an accident and was taken to the hospital.’
Hope blazed within Craig as he digested the information. If anyone knew where Hari was, it would be William Davies.
‘Thank you,’ he said abruptly and then he was striding down the drive and towards the town once more. William must know where Hari was, he was like a brother to her, they were inseparable.
His step light, he covered the ground quickly. It was growing dark, the moon was reflected in the sea and the wash of the waves reached his ears as he drew nearer the beach.
The nurse was most sympathetic. ‘Are you a relative of the patient?’ she asked and Craig shook his head.
‘No, but I must speak to him, it’s urgent,’ he said. The nurse frowned.
‘I don’t think you quite understand, sir, but come with me.’
He followed her into the silent room where William was lying asleep, a bandage swathed around his head.
‘The young man is holding his own, but I’m afraid he’s not regained consciousness since being badly beaten by some thugs. Dreadful things are happening on our streets these days,’ she added.
Craig looked down at Will and pity rose within him, the boy was so still, his skin patterned with deep bruising beneath his eyes. After a moment, Craig turned and left the room, there was nothing he could do by being there.
Out in the darkness once more, he stared up at the stars. ‘I’ll find you, Hari,’ he said softly. ‘I’ll find you if I have to search every house in Swansea.’
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