Sea Mistress by Iris Gower Page A

maids were bartering loudly beside the boxes of cod and whiting and no-one noticed Ellie as she made her way to one of the shipping offices situated in the streets surrounding the docks.
    Her spirits were light because Jubilee was up and about again, his illness vanished as quickly as it had come. The doctor was amazed at Jubilee’s powers of recovery, declaring him a tough old bird. The sickness and fever, which remained undiagnosed, had vanished as if it had never been and though Jubilee was still a little unsteady, his powers of leadership were as strong as ever.
    The reason she was here now, making for the offices of Marchant and James shipping line, was because of Jubilee’s fussiness that his payments for goods delivered be made on time.
    He had lately sold stocks of leather to Paul Marchant, undertaking to deliver the skins to the saddler and thereafter to pick up the finished goods and have his waggons deliver the horse-collars directly to the docks.
    Jubilee’s orders were that Matthew should accompany Ellie on the journey to the shipping office but Matthew had been out with one of the wagons collecting more timber. In any case, Ellie didn’t want to give the man any encouragement at all, though she could hardly tell Jubilee that. So she had come alone and now she was feeling a little foolish and at a loss.
    She looked up at the elegant buildings, at the ornately decorated porticos and felt intimidated. She wasn’t used to doing business, she usually left all that to Jubilee. Still, it was about time she took some responsibilities from the shoulders of her husband.
    The tannery at Glyn Hir, though not a large one, was flourishing and had a reputation surpassed by none in Swansea or its environs. He was probably speaking the truth when Jubilee claimed that the leather from Glyn Hir was among the finest in the entire Principality.
    The offices of Marchant and James were smaller than she had imagined, less imposing. But the woodwork was newly painted and the sign above the door was bold, striking a chord of confidence in Ellie that gave her some measure of relief. At least she would not be dealing with charlatans.
    She knocked on the door and a masculine voice called for her to step inside. If she had expected to see Bridie or her husband Paul Marchant she was disappointed. An elderly man with huge side whiskers sat behind a desk, looking at her in obvious surprise. She saw him rise to his feet in an excess of politeness and gesture to the rather capacious wooden chair that stood facing him.
    â€˜I’m sorry, young lady,’ his eyes, set deep in plump creases, sparkled. ‘We don’t see very many of the fairer sex in this office. I’m Mr Elias, by the way.’
    Ellie felt foolish. ‘My husband hasn’t been well,’ she said, feeling the need to make excuses for her presence there. ‘It was necessary for me to come to see you. It’s rather embarrassing, it’s about an outstanding bill, as a matter of fact.’
    â€˜I see, sorry to hear it indeed. Well can you give me some details Mrs . . . ?’
    â€˜Mrs Hopkins,’ Ellie supplied, ‘I’m sorry to have to come to the offices but the bill has been outstanding for some time and now, it seems, Mr Marchant needs more stocks of leather. I’m sure it’s all just a mistake, an oversight on Mr Marchant’s part.’
    â€˜How much leather?’ Mr Elias turned some papers over on his desk. ‘I need to know a little more about this before I can look in to it. When was the load delivered and what was its destination? Do you have a bill with you stating the amount owed?’
    Ellie felt foolish, she could see now that she had come to town ill prepared, she should have been business-like, had all the necessary information at her fingertips.
    â€˜I haven’t brought anything with me, I haven’t gone into it very thoroughly, I’m afraid, I can see that