Daughters of Rebecca by Iris Gower Page B

for all the wrong reasons. Watt felt he had to look after me and my brothers because my mam fell sick.’
    â€˜Well, that was good of him, wasn’t it?’ Shanni asked.
    Rosie shook her head. ‘My mother Pearlworked at the pottery for years and Watt admired her, wanted to do his best for her family.’ Rosie sighed. ‘So he married me. And, yes, it was kind of him. But it wasn’t right, and when I realized that Watt had married me out of pity I left him and found myself a job as a companion to Alice Sparks.’ Her voice faltered a little. ‘I miss Alice so much. We were such good friends in those last months of her life.’
    â€˜I’m sorry,’ Shanni said. ‘I shouldn’t have asked. I have no right to stir up all your past worries like that. I mean, I don’t really know you, do I? But you’re so pretty and so well dressed I think any man would be a fool to let you go. And do you know something? I envy your independence, Rosie.’
    â€˜You envy me?’ Rosie sounded incredulous. ‘But you’re young with all your life before you. You have lovely red hair and such a creamy skin, you’re a beautiful girl.’ She paused. ‘And so far you haven’t fallen in love with the wrong man.’ She rested her hand on Shanni’s arm. ‘Use your youth wisely, Shanni, and don’t be blinded by love because those loving feelings can play you false.’
    â€˜Good afternoon, ladies.’ Watt Bevan had stopped beside his wife and Rosie’s colour deepened. She bowed her head staring at her hands in her lap. The silence was embarrassing.
    â€˜Good day to you, Mr Bevan,’ Shanni said quickly. She looked up at him, evaluating him afresh. She had seen him only as the manager of the pottery, a stern man who laughed seldom. Now she knew that he was compassionate, that hehad felt duty-bound to take care of a young girl and her brothers.
    â€˜Watt, how nice to see you.’ Rosie had regained her composure. She spoke formally, the Welsh vanishing from her voice. ‘Please sit down, have some cordial with us.’ She looked towards the table at the edge of the tent. ‘The man was supposed to bring it to us ten minutes ago.’
    Watt turned and lifted his hand. As if by magic a boy appeared, eager to serve him. No doubt he was hoping for a few pennies to put in his pocket for waiting on such a powerful man as Watt Bevan, pottery manager.
    â€˜Three jugs of cordial, please.’ Watt delved into his pocket and brought out some coins. ‘And have a drink yourself. You look all hot and bothered.’
    The boy touched his scruffy hair and hurried away. Watt sat next to Shanni and she felt uncomfortable – it was as if she formed a barrier between husband and wife.
    â€˜I didn’t expect to see you at the fair, Watt,’ Rosie said. ‘I thought my brothers were coming but they are probably off courting some girl or other.’
    â€˜Probably,’ Watt said. ‘Anyway, I wanted to see you, I owe you an apology for not being there to fetch you back to Swansea. Things were difficult, the men were in a bad mood – still are, come to that. Half of them are ready to tear the town apart.’
    â€˜But they have good reason,’ Shanni said slowly. ‘The tolls the farmers have to pay will raise the price of everything we buy from meat and drink to fripperies like this.’ She flicked at herribbon. ‘I’m surprised you’re not with them, Mr Bevan.’
    Watt glanced at her. ‘And I’m surprised at your cheek, young lady!’ He smiled, his tension vanishing. ‘I think our Llinos is teaching you to be a little rebel or is it Madame Isabelle we have to blame for your radical ideas?’
    â€˜My thoughts are my own,’ Shanni said heatedly. ‘I see injustice all around me. My mother was killed by it and the poor are kept down to serve the rich.’
    Watt leaned