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Authors: Iris Gower

Tags: #Historical Saga

The Shoemaker's Daughter (47 page)

BOOK: The Shoemaker's Daughter
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‘That’s enough!’ Hari said fiercely. ‘You are not fit to speak Edward’s name. Just clear off and leave me alone.’
‘Look,’ Craig began again, ‘I should have stayed with you, I realize that now, I suspected that things were not right financially, I shouldn’t have gone away.’
‘Well, you did, and you enjoyed your stay so much that you forgot to come back. That says it all, now I really know how little I mean to you.’
‘We are getting nowhere,’ Craig said. ‘Let’s talk things out quietly, ask me in at least.’
‘There’s nothing to talk about,’ Hari’s voice was calm. ‘You didn’t keep your promise to come to me, that’s all there is to it.’
Craig felt pain wash over him as he tried to take Hari in his arms. He loved her so much and she was right, he had failed her when she most needed him.
‘Hari, please listen!’ he said softly. She pushed him away, then she had closed the door with a click of finality.
He leaned against the wall filled suddenly with a sense of determination, he wouldn’t give in, he would wait outside until she had calmed down, then he would try to talk to her again.
And yet he knew by the set of Hari’s chin, it would be a long time before she would find it in her heart to forgive him.
It was about an hour later when Hari emerged from the house, her shawl pulled well around her thin shoulders, her basket over her arm. She was too small to carry the burdens of widowhood as well as homelessness, he thought angrily. Craig knew that he must somehow persuade Hari to let him take care of her though it would not be easy.
He followed her, staying well behind her and Hari paused for a moment, adjusting her shawl.
The roads narrowed into small passages and dingy courts and Craig fell further back, not wanting to be seen. He looked around at the dismal buildings and wondered how Hari could bear to live in such surroundings. And his son, he did not want his son to know this miserable sort of existence.
A young boy darted suddenly from one of the houses and, before Hari could turn, he had snatched the shawl from her shoulders. He held it up tauntingly and, after a moment, Hari shrugged disconsolately and went on her way.
Incensed, Craig moved swiftly towards the boy and took the shawl from his hands.
‘Hey, mister, what you think you’re doing?’ The boy was older than Craig had first imagined, he was small, undernourished, his face pinched and pale.
At the sound of his voice, a woman came out of the house her face heavily rouged, a smile spreading over her full lips when she saw him. She gave the boy a push.
‘Get out of here, Tim, let decent folks get about their business.’
‘But, mam, you said . . .’ The boy’s voice faded as the woman gave him a threatening look.
‘Can I do anything for you, sir?’ The woman raised her eyebrows meaningfully and Craig, looking desperately past her, saw that Hari was now out of sight.
‘It’s Maria,’ the woman continued, ‘all my customers speak highly of me, mind.’ She peered at him intently, ‘Don’t I know you, sir?’
Craig shook his head. ‘No.’ He moved away unaware that the woman was staring at him with narrowed eyes and made his way through the maze of narrow streets and knew, with a sense of despair, that he had lost sight of Hari, he wouldn’t find her now.
Reluctantly, he turned back, it was growing dark, he would not find her tonight and the thought of her tramping the streets, delivering her repairs, made him feel so angry and helpless.
But tomorrow, he would return to Salthouse Passage, Hari made it clear she didn’t want him but he wouldn’t give up, he would make her listen to him.
He was beginning to learn about Hari, she was fiercely independent and so very proud, perhaps that’s why he loved her so much. And yet, he had the uncomfortable feeling she’d see him in hell before she would forgive him.
31
If Hari felt a great bitterness against Craig for his betrayal of her, she also felt a great sense of loss. And there was a feeling of disbelief that he could so casually take a strange woman to his bed, spending time with her when Hari needed him so badly.
Hari felt as though life was out to defeat her, dealing her blow after blow. Edward had been taken from her so suddenly, William had been near to death in hospital and all the time Craig had been carelessly going his own way, without a thought for Hari. And yet the desire to be in his arms and to have his love and support was sometimes overwhelming.
But people like Craig Grenfell were not to be trusted, hadn’t she learned that much by now? These toffs were all the same. Just look at Emily, cocooned in her own little world of happiness, surrounded by all the trappings of affluence, she had not bothered to seek out Hari to see if she needed any help.
Emily had done well for herself, she now owned a productive manufactory as well as the successful Emily’s Emporium and she was a very busy woman.
To be fair, Hari mused, if she saw fit to approach her, Emily would probably have given her all the help she needed.
Hari sat in her room nursing David in her arms, he was a fine child, growing stronger and lustier by the day. And it was obvious to anyone who saw him that he was a Grenfell through and through.
Hari changed the baby and slicked down his thick sprouting of hair with her fingers. ‘You must look fine and handsome,’ she said softly, ‘if Hetty is to mind you for me to go to see Will.’
Hetty was sitting near the fire when Hari entered the kitchen, her skirt was above her knees as she warmed herself at the blaze.
‘Got a touch of the bone ache today, I have,’ she explained rubbing at her legs, ‘must be the weather. Here, give me the boy, let me have a cuddle of him before he falls asleep.’
David snuggled contentedly against Hetty’s ample bosom, his eyes already closing.
‘Bless his little heart,’ Hetty said, ‘he’s no trouble at all, this son of yours, I think the angels themselves must have brought him.’ She kissed David’s head and then smiled up at Hari.
‘Give my best to Will and, remember, he’ll have a room here when he’s well.’ She paused. ‘By the way, we’ve got a new lodger for the back bedroom,’ Hetty said. ‘Nice sort of chap, good hearted and strong, he’ll give me a hand when I want a bit of coal brought in or some logs chopped. You can always tell. Paid the rent on the nail, too, I think you’ll like him.’
Hari smiled ruefully. ‘I hope you are not thinking of matchmaking, mind, I don’t want any man, I’ll take care of myself.’
‘Huh!’ Hetty scoffed, ‘a pretty young thing like you needs a man, after a decent time of mourning is past of course. Anyway, off you go to see that William. If I keep nattering to you, you’ll never get away.’
Hari left the cheerful room with reluctance, it was a cold night and she’d have liked nothing better than to stay and talk to Hetty.
The passageway was long and shadowed, lit only by a solitary gas lamp. A tall figure appeared from the doorway to the middle room and stood before her.
‘Hari, there’s good to see you again, sorry I’ve had to take so much time off work lately.’ The voice was strong and masculine and Hari peered through the gloom.
‘Lewis! It is you, isn’t it?’ She reached out her hand and it was held in a firm grasp. ‘You’ve taken lodgings here, does that mean your mam . . . ?’ Her words faded away as Lewis held her hand more tightly.
‘Mam passed on,’ he said. ‘It was a shock, mind, even though she was bad these last weeks. Anyway, I’ll be back at work now that the funeral is over and I’ve got a chance to pull myself together again. How are you managing, Hari?’
‘I’m all right,’ Hari said, ‘Hetty is a very good landlady, she gave me the parlour, the best room in the house.’ She forced a note of cheerfulness in her voice. ‘If you’re as lucky as me, you’ll be happy here.’ Her eyes were growing accustomed to the gloom, she could see that Lewis had grown a beard which made him look much older.
‘I’ll be glad to see you back at work, we’ve been quite busy in the shop mostly doing work for the theatre people. I must say I haven’t put a lot of effort into specialized shoes lately but then business in that direction is a bit slow.’
‘I blame those Grenfells myself,’ Lewis said. ‘They use your talents when it suits them and then ignore you when they feel like it.’
‘I’ve got to go,’ Hari said, choking back the pain his words brought her, he had put into plain speaking the thoughts she’d tried to suppress. ‘I’m late as it is.’ She made to move past Lewis, but he caught her arm.
‘You are not going out alone? It’s almost dark and the streets around here are not safe, mind.’
‘I’ve got to visit Will, he’s in the hospital, he’s expecting me, he’ll only worry if I don’t go.’
‘Then I’ll come with you,’ Lewis said decisively. ‘I’ll just get my coat.’
Before Hari could protest, Lewis had hurried upstairs to his room. Hari moved to the door and peered out into the gloom. It had been raining and the cobbles had taken on a sheen that glowed gold under the lamplight.
The buildings rose tall and somehow menacing, most of them shrouded in darkness with only an occasional light to dispel the darkness. Hari shivered, suddenly glad that Lewis was going with her.
It was the first time she’d visited Will in the evening but she had been busy all day and she knew he would worry if he didn’t see her at all. He must be wondering too what would happen to him once he was released from hospital. Hari smiled, she would set his mind at rest, tell him there was a home waiting for him in Salthouse Passage when he was well.
‘Here I am, ready and willing.’ Lewis was beside her smiling down and, feeling cheered, Hari stepped out with him into the street. They walked in silence for a time and Hari was grateful for Lewis’s presence as they passed a public bar full of drunken men singing a bawdy song.
As the streets thinned out, the solitary notes of a flute could be heard clearly on the still air playing a haunting melody that unaccountably brought tears to Hari’s eyes.
In the music lay the feeling of dreams lost and love destroyed but perhaps that was all in her imagination.
‘Are you doing any design work at all, Hari?’ Lewis’s voice broke into her thoughts.
‘Aye, a bit of drawing now and then but mostly I’ve been tapping boots, making new heels, that sort of thing,’ Hari said, aware that her meagre takings were diminishing daily and feeling a sudden sense of panic.
‘Perhaps we can drum up some business between us,’ Lewis said eagerly, ‘you always have come up with a solution, Hari.’
‘Emily’s ready-made boots and shoes seem to be all that the folks of Swansea need, at the moment,’ Hari said quietly.
‘Don’t talk soft now!’ Lewis sounded indignant, ‘What about fine hand-made shoes, Emily’s Emporium can’t provide those remember.’
It was true but Hari had little energy these days, her inspiration seemed to have died when Edward did. Lewis had no idea of the time and effort it took to make individual designs and carry them forward into production.
‘It’s not like you to give up so easily,’ Lewis said as though reading her thoughts. ‘Just think about it, Hari, get that imagination of yours working.’
‘Yes, I will try,’ Hari said but there was little conviction in her voice.
Will was sitting up against the pillows, he was very pale but there was a light in his eyes that had not been there for some time. The reason was not difficult to see, Sarah was sitting near the bed, holding his hand.
‘Will, you’re looking much better!’ Hari kissed his cheek. ‘Hello, Sarah, there’s pretty you look, that red coat suits you very well.’
Sarah smiled but didn’t speak. Will took Hari’s hand and frowned his disapproval.
‘What are you doing out alone in the darkness? Both you and Sarah should be more careful, I don’t like to think of the risks you’re taking.’
‘Lewis came with me,’ Hari said, ‘he’s waiting outside, he’ll walk both me and Sarah home, I’m sure.’
‘Lewis?’ Will asked. ‘Is he back at work? He was home looking after his mam when I was . . . was taken sick.’
Hari brushed aside a curl of hair that had fallen over Will’s forehead.
‘Yes, he’s back at work but don’t worry about all that, what you have to do is to get well and come home to me, there’ll be a good meal and a warm fire waiting for you, you can be sure of that.’
‘Where are you living now, Mrs Morris?’ Sarah asked archly. ‘With Lewis, is it?’
Will looked at the girl sharply. ‘What do you mean? Will someone please tell me what’s going on?’ He fell back against the pillows, a look of weariness on his face.
Hari could have slapped Sarah but now there was nothing left to do but to tell Will the truth.
‘Will, poor Eddie didn’t get over the sickness, I didn’t want you to know, not until you were well again.’

Duw
, there’s sorry I am, Mrs Morris,’ Sarah said quickly, ‘I didn’t think . . .’ As her words trailed away Will touched the girl’s hand.
‘That’s all right, love, I don’t want anything kept from me.’ He turned to Hari. ‘What else?’ he asked. ‘I can see there’s more.’
‘The house wasn’t Edward’s,’ Hari said, ‘it was just rented, I had to get out. But I’m all right, I’ve got rooms with a very nice lady, there’s a room for you too when you get out of here and then you, me and Lewis will work at the business, make it flourish again, we’ll pull ourselves up by our boot straps just as we’ve always done.’
‘Hari,’ Will touched her cheek, ‘just when you needed me, I wasn’t any use to you, I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ Hari said, ‘you couldn’t help being sick.’
‘Being set upon by a gang of thugs you mean,’ Will said bitterly, ‘if I ever get my hands on the ones who put me in by here, I swear I’ll half kill them!’
Sarah rose to her feet. ‘Well, I’d better be going or my dad will have something to say to me.’
‘Aw, stay a bit longer,’ Will coaxed, ‘your dad won’t know what time you get in, will he?’
BOOK: The Shoemaker's Daughter
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