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Authors: Iris Gower

Tags: #Historical Saga

The Shoemaker's Daughter (46 page)

BOOK: The Shoemaker's Daughter
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‘Isn’t that what you and your sons tried to do to William?’ Hari’s grip tightened and the woman moaned, all her bluster gone. ‘Give us a chance, for Gawd’s sake.’
‘Like the chance you gave William, is it?’ Hari said fiercely.
‘Go on misses, pulverize her, she deserves it!’ a voice called from behind her. Suddenly, Hari’s rage receded, she released the woman who fell back against the cobbles, gasping for breath.
‘Get out of my sight before I really do kill you.’ Hari rose and picked up her shawl from the roadway, aware that a crowd of curious onlookers had gathered. She felt ashamed of herself brawling in the street like a common bawd.
She stepped over the woman who was rubbing her throat where angry wheals were beginning to form.
‘In future, keep away from me and mine,’ Hari said harshly, ‘or sons or no sons I’ll come looking for you as sure as God made the earth. Understand?’
The woman glared at her but she was too afraid to speak, she shrank against the wall as Hari moved past her.
When she arrived home, Hari was trembling. She threw off her tangled, mud-stained shawl and sank down into one of Hetty’s kitchen chairs.

Duw
, what’s wrong with you, girl?’ Hetty said in concern, ‘you look like you seen a ghost.’
‘No, not a ghost,’ Hari said ruefully, ‘I met an old enemy, Maria Payton, do you know her?’
‘Aye, I know her, a real bad lot she is and them boys of hers too, wouldn’t put nothing past that family.’
‘It was the Payton boys who hurt William,’ Hari rubbed at her eyes. ‘Boasted about it to my face the woman did.’ She sighed heavily, ‘Perhaps I should have left her to the constables?’
‘Not on your life!’ Hetty said at once. ‘Folks round here don’t do that kind of thing, we sorts out our own bothers we do.’ She pushed the big black kettle on to the flames. ‘Have a cuppa while that baby of yours is still asleep and forget Maria Payton. Tell me about work, did you make any fine new shoes today?’
‘Aye, I did some repairs for the theatre people but my heart wasn’t in it so I went to see Will.’ Hari watched in silence as Hetty bustled about the kitchen, her big hands surprisingly deft, her feet in the shabby shoes hardly seeming to touch the floor. At last, the tea poured, Hetty sat down opposite Hari.
‘The bobbies wouldn’t do nothing if you did report the Payton boys to them,’ she said softly. ‘You should know that coming from a place like this yourself.’
Hari sighed, ‘I suppose you are right, but I’m worried that, if Will recovers, the boys will go after him again.’
‘Look on the bright side,’ Hetty advised, ‘let’s hope they’ve had their revenge and will leave it at that, honour satisfied, so to speak.’
Hari remembered the look in Maria Payton’s face as she’d cowered against the wall. ‘I doubt that,’ she said, ‘I just gave their mother the fright of her life.’
‘Well, when you make an enemy of that one, you make an enemy for life, I’d watch out for yourself, mind, Maria is cunning and vicious and I wouldn’t trust her further than I could throw Cleg the Coal and his horse and cart.’
The lull in the conversation was broken by a sudden cry from Davie. Hari rose to her feet. ‘He’s hungry,’ she said softly, lifting him from the makeshift crib. ‘I’ll take him into the parlour and feed him, I expect you’ll want to get on with your work.’
At the door, she turned. ‘Thank you, Hetty,’ she said ‘for everything.’
It was almost a week later when Hari, sitting at Will’s bedside, saw a small movement of his fingers. First, his little finger lifted slightly with the lightness of a butterfly wing. Then his eyelashes, dark and thick and far more curly than it was any man’s right to possess, fluttered against gaunt cheeks.
‘Will!’ Hari leaned closer, breathing his name, ‘Will, can you hear me?’
His eyes opened slowly, as though he was very tired and Will was looking at her.
‘William,
cariad
, it’s me, Hari.’ She touched his face with her fingertips, very lightly, fearing to startle him.
‘How are you feeling, my lovely?’ she asked, her voice hoarse with emotion.
Will’s lips moved but there was no sound. Hari leaned closer. She could barely catch the whispered words but she felt that, weak though he was, Will was speaking with conviction.
‘I’m all right.’ A tiny smile turned up the corners of his mouth. Hari took Will’s hand, rubbing her fingers over his skin as if to infuse some of her own strength into him.
‘You’d better be, my boy, you know I can’t manage without you.’ Hari spoke through her tears, choking them back not wanting to upset Will. ‘We’ve got a business to run,’ she said firmly, ‘and you’ve got a lot of work waiting for you when you are well, mind.’
Will’s eyes were closing, it was as though the lids were weighted and were too heavy for him. But his fingers were warm in hers and the faint smile still lingered on his lips.
Carefully, Hari eased her fingers away from him and hurried out into the corridor. ‘Nurse!’ she called and the sister appeared at her side as if she had been waiting for the summons.
‘What is it, Mrs Morris?’ she asked and, shakily, Hari pointed to the small annexe where Will slept.
‘He’s better,’ she said, ‘he opened his eyes, Will
spoke
to me.’
The sister put a hand on Hari’s arm. ‘Now don’t get your hopes too high,’ she said carefully, ‘there is often a period of improvement just before the end.’ She turned away. ‘But I shall get a doctor to look at the boy right away. Come back in about ten to fifteen minutes and perhaps we shall be able to tell you something.’
Hari wandered outside the infirmary and sank down on one of the hard benches that faced the sea. She closed her eyes against the hot tears, Will would be all right, he’d told her so and Will never lied to her. She knew she was being irrational. How could William be expected to know about his condition when he had been unconscious for so long? And yet he had spoken with such conviction that she had to believe him.
She looked up at the sky and the grey racing clouds made her feel small and insignificant and so alone.
She clenched her hands together, willing herself not to cry, tears would not help one little bit.
After a time, she rose and returned to the long echoing corridors of the infirmary. As she neared Will’s room, the sister came out of her office. Hari held her breath, fearing the worst but then the sister allowed a glimmer of a smile to warm her eyes.
‘You were right, Mrs Morris,’ she said softly, ‘William is going to be all right.’
30
Craig made his way to the infirmary with eager steps, he had just learned from Doctor Grayham that William Davies had regained consciousness. Now, at last Craig would be able to find out where Hari had gone into hiding.
He had searched in vain the sprawling, dismal streets of World’s End, asking endless questions receiving nothing in return but suspicion and hostility. It was clear that if anyone had known where Hari was living, Craig with his fine clothes would be the last one they would tell.
Even at her shop he’d been met with a wall of silence, the cobblers unwilling to talk to him, suspicious to the last man. He supposed they were only being loyal, protecting Hari, or so they thought.
He cursed himself for staying away so long and while he’d been dallying with the sweet Berta in Bristol, Hari had faced her troubles alone. Now, it seemed she wanted nothing to do with him and he couldn’t really blame her. He’d let her down badly and just when she most needed him.
Craig had stayed in Bristol for longer than he’d intended and though it was true that the prospect of more business was a strong reason to stay, Berta with her soft yielding body and ready arms was even more of an incentive.
The sea washed shoreward, the gentle waves sucking at the sea shells on the ebb so that they chattered like the voices of children at play. Craig hurried towards the building near the beach, impatient to talk to young William.
The nurse who stood in the doorway of the boy’s room was reluctant to let him in. ‘The patient is still very weak, mind,’ she said sternly, the folds of the white hat fluttering around her head like a pair of doves.
‘I appreciate that,’ Craig said persuasively, ‘and I promise not to tire him.’ He moved into the bare room and the figure in the bed seemed very still and small. Craig moved closer and saw that Will’s face was still pale and drawn, he must have been well and truly beaten to have suffered so much damage and Craig felt a sense of anger rise within him.
‘William,’ he said softly. ‘William, can you hear me?’ He sat beside the bed and watched as the boy’s eyes fluttered open.
‘William, I need to know where Hari is staying, I can’t find out where she is.’
William looked at him doubtfully and, when he spoke, his voice was very weak. ‘If you can’t find her, perhaps Hari doesn’t want to be found.’
Craig shook his head, ‘I realize that but I can explain why I was away so long if only I can talk to her.’
He moved closer to the bed. ‘I didn’t know about Edward’s death until I returned from my business trip or about your injuries, I wish to God I had, I’d have been home like a shot.’
‘I’m sorry, I can’t help you,’ Will said, his voice fading.
‘It doesn’t matter.’ Craig rose to his feet decisively, ‘I shouldn’t have come.’
He made his way out of the hospital cursing himself for his stupidity, all that he had achieved was to upset William.
Craig returned home, the sun was sinking down behind the hills and, as Craig led the horse to the stables, he vowed that he would go back to Hari’s shop and wait there all day if necessary, he must talk to Hari.
When he entered Summer Lodge it was to find his mother had moved Spencer into the guest room.
‘I looked after Spencer while you were away,’ she said querulously, ‘but you must take care of your brother from now on Craig.’ Her voice was trembling, ‘I can’t afford nurses’ fees any longer, it’s your turn to give a helping hand.’
Craig cursed beneath his breath, he had enough to do without looking after his brother.
‘Mother, you always favoured Spencer, why don’t you keep him with you, I’ll pay for a nurse gladly.’
His mother moved to the door. ‘We’ll see but at least I deserve a rest, you must see that.’
It irked Craig that his time was taken up, trying to sort out his brother’s problems. Spencer was highly strung these days, given to moods of blackness. Craig saw his mother home in her carriage and then returned on foot to Summer Lodge.
‘Craig, my dear boy.’ He was stopped near the wrought-iron gates of the grounds next door to his house by Lady Caroline who had just alighted from a cab. She rested her hand on his arm and stared up at him in what she imagined was a flirtatious manner. ‘My little girl has been missing you so much, haven’t you darling?’
Lisa, stepping into the driveway, raised her eyebrows at Craig and he smiled.
‘We’re having a Grand Ball, dear boy,’ Lady Caroline continued, ‘we would love you to come.’
Craig nodded without replying and Lady Caroline gushed on. ‘We’ve just been to Hari Morgan’s place to ask her to make some shoes but we didn’t get to see her only one of her rough cobbler fellows.’
Lady Caroline paused and stared up at Craig through arched eyebrows. ‘Do you know, even though her shop is still smart and fashionable, apparently the way that woman is living is appalling.’
‘Where is she living?’ Craig asked, his senses suddenly alert.
‘Salubrious Passage, my dear, salubrious being the last thing I’d call it. Hari Morris occupies just one room there in the ugliest house you could ever imagine. What a shame her husband dying and leaving her without a roof over her head like that.’
‘Excuse me.’ Craig held his hand out to attract the attention of a cab driver. ‘Sorry,’ he directed his remark to Lisa, ‘I have to go.’
He climbed into the cab, a feeling of elation gripping him. ‘Salubrious Passage, please,’ he said.
‘I think you mean Salthouse Passage, sir,’ said the cabbie.
There were several houses in the row and Craig knocked at the doors of three before he learned that Hetty Blake ran a boarding house.
He raised the gleaming brass knocker and stood tensely waiting as he heard light footsteps coming along the passageway.
The door opened and Hari stood there much thinner and more desolate than he’d ever seen her look.
He reached and touched her arm. ‘Hari! Thank God I’ve found you,’ he said softly.
For a moment she looked startled, her soft mouth pale like a crushed rose petal. Then her lips were suddenly set into a hard line.
‘What do
you
want?’ she demanded and impatiently she dragged herself away from his hand.
‘Hari, let me talk to you, I know I should have come back sooner but I . . .’ He stopped talking as Hari stared up at him, he could not lie baldly to her, not when she was looking through him with that direct look of hers.
‘I wish I could have been here sooner but I was delayed,’ he ended lamely.
‘Delayed? Well, I think I know the reason for the delay. You see, a letter came to my shop for you, the “lady” said she’d found the address on a card in her room after you’d left. Wanted to know when you’d be back again. Berta her name was.’
‘I’m sorry, Hari, I can’t make any excuses except that I was there on business and I . . .’
Hari interrupted him abruptly. ‘I suppose that sort of business was more important to you than the death of your friend.’ Her voice was bitter and filled with sarcasm.
‘I didn’t know about Edward,’ Craig said softly, ‘and I’m so sorry that you had to face it all alone. I would have come at once had I known.’
‘Would you?’ Hari said scornfully and made to close the door. Craig caught her arm once more.
‘Hari, you must believe me. Nothing would have kept me away from you had I suspected that Edward was so ill.’
BOOK: The Shoemaker's Daughter
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