Me & Mr Jones Read online

  Maybe this could be a good thing, perhaps, if people did recognise her?

  If people saw her out with Mister Jones, they might get the impression that something was happening between the two of them. And that there might soon be a man at the helm of the Talbot Tram Company? That could be a good thing.

  She was the late boss’s spinster daughter, and although nobody said anything to her directly about her ‘opportunities’, Carys sensed a general mood that she’d spent so much time in the office with her head in the books, she’d missed her chance. That and the fact her parents were no longer around to arrange meetings with suitable gentlemen. Fate had reunited her parents in the Lord’s embrace, leaving her to her own devices in this mortal realm.

  Alas, a woman running a business, alone, truly wasn’t the done thing. I didn’t matter that she was standing in only until Young David, her brother, came of age. Or at least until he could put down his precious daffodil bulbs that looked as boring as onions to Carys, and get his head around the numbers.

  If she handed all to David now, the company would fold and they’d be destitute.

  The was only one thing for it, but the ‘one thing’ relied on Mr Jones agreeing. Right now, she barely knew anything about him. Aside from how pleasant he was to look at and how good he was with the horses.

  Which was, admittedly, an excellent start.

  Rhys cursed his luck once more. When Mr Talbot had still been with them, her used to sneak into the office and leave a few extras in the till. Sometimes they were tips from passengers, and sometimes it was from his own little pot of savings. Especially over their cold summer, when he’d seen with his own eyes the passenger numbers were down. So he’d managed to put in some extra coins and nobody had been any wiser.

  But once he’d gone, Carys had taken over the office and the numbers, and she’d seen the true state of them.

  Dang and blast.

  Charlie’s gentle clipping and clopping made a good steady rhythm as he pulled their tram along the line. “I’d be happy to do the driving if you need. No need to tire yourself,” he offered Carys.

  “Mister Jones, I’ve been wanting to do this for such an age,” she said. He could hear the smile in her voice. “I was always a little jealous of the drivers like you, in this job. Not when it was raining, mind. But on the fine days, I wanted to be the one in charge.”

  “You truly are the one in charge, now.” Rhys said. “And you are doing a fine job of it. In managing the company and handling our Charlie here.”

  “We’re on rails, it’s hardly that much of a challenge.”

  “Nevertheless, it takes a firm yet gentle hand. If Charlie didn’t respect you, I suspect we’d get nowhere very fast.”

  “You’re a kind man to say that.”

  He didn’t feel very kind. In fact, he was beginning to feel proprietorial about the company, and Carys. In her position, she was fair game for a keen-eyed business person who could swoop in and take over. “It’s the truth,” he said, and realized it really was. “Everyone respects you so much. You are saving the company, you do know that, don’t you? We’d all be in a right pickle without you.” Had he gone too far?

  “Mister Jones, if I did not know better, I’d say you were paying me a compliment. What has brought this on?”

  He made a chuckle to cover his nerves. “Just passing the time, Miss Talbot, on this wild evening.”

  As if to emphasize his point, the wind howled fresh across the bay. Icy tendrils dug into his neck. Carys too hunched into herself to stay warm.

  “If you want to go inside the carriage, I’d be happy to stay up here. Carlie’s a good lad, he doesn’t need much.”

  It wasn’t a lie. Charlie the horse, although he belonged to Mr Brookesmith at the Swansea depot, had been working the line since the trams began six years ago. He knew the way and had a good, reliable pace, allowing them to set a timetable of sorts. It meant all the companies that shared the rail generally knew what time new customers would be arriving, and how long it would take to get them home again from The Mumbles.

  Having the dedicated rail line was easier than navigating the road. No potholes, not slips, and no other people, wagons or horses to get in the way. The rails made for a smooth ride as well, so once motion began, pulling the wagon required momentum instead of muscle.

  Unless the carriage was completely full, which had happened not in the most recent summer (which wasn’t even a summer) but the one before. Children scrambling about on the roof did make things a little noisier than usual. And unstable, when they leant over the sides.

  The wind died down again, and they trundled along at a steady clip.

  Rhys decided he might try his luck at convincing Carys of his plan. “I’ve been thinking of young David. What if we bring him in a couple of days a week. Nothing too strenuous, mind, but enough to give him a taste and to let people see he’s learning the ropes?”

  “I’ve thought about that too, and it’s a good idea. But he’ll need supervision, and that means I’d still have to train him. Do you think anyone would believe a twelve-year-old boy could really manage a company?”

  Rhys knew the answer to that. A firm ‘no’. “But if they see him there, at least word will spread that he’s learning. And children do grow up so quickly these days.”

  “That’s as may be, but …” Carys trailed off.

  “Yes?”

  “I don’t know. I have to think. Talk about something else for a while, please Mr Jones?”

  Rhys chuckled, “You’re doing the driving and the talking, and I’m getting a free ride of it. But I do rather like listening to you talk.”

  Carys ducked her head. Was she blushing? She wriggled a little on the seat, as if trying to move over.

  “I don’t think the seat’s going to get any bigger just by wishing for it,” Rhys said. “I’m over as far as I can go without risking an upset.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

  “I wasn’t attempting to push you out at all. This is a seat designed for one, and with both of us wearing heavy coats, even with your slight frame, we may as well be sitting on top of each other.”

  Oh, why had he spoken so crudely? He’d gone and made a right fool of himself. All he’d wanted was some pleasant conversation and instead, he’d been as tongue-tied as a school boy. In desperation he looked around in the darkness for anything to talk about. He was nearly going to discuss whether the carriage needed a new coat of paint, then decided against it. It was a silly topic, and would end up raising the issue of perilous finances.

  Finally, he saw something to break this awkward silence. “Flames!”

  “Excuse me?”

  He leaned across and pointed towards the beach, where people had gathered around a lit kettle drum. Orange and red flames danced and flickered in the dark night, bending and springing upright in the wind and sending sparks into the dark sky.

  Carys sat up straighter, “They’ll be the oystercatchers.”

  “Are you partial to oysters, then?”

  “Oh yes, I do love them, hot in the shell.”

  Rhys shook his head. “I had one a time ago, it was raw. Felt like Sally’s muck that I wiped off your face earlier this evening.”

  Carys chuckled. “I have tried raw as well. Your comparison is valid. But when they’re cooked, they are delicious. Especially with lemon juice.”

  “I might be persuaded to try them your way.”

  “I do believe I have issued you with a challenge, Mister Jones. Allow me to find us an excellent repast from the fine fisherfolk of Oystermouth.”

  “Challenge accepted.”

  They slowed Charlie to a stop and alighted from the driver’s seat. The scent of smoke and burning wood filled the air, along with the unmistakable salty brine of the sea. Rhys climbed down first, then automatically swung around for Carys and grabbed her by the waist. Before he knew what he was doing, he’d deposited her safely on the ground, and felt himself all thumbs at the brief yet in
tense contact. “I do apologize for taking the liberty, Miss Talbot, I only wanted to see you safely down.”

  Her words came out on a breath. “I … thank you, I’m sure.”

  Oh dear, he’d offended her now. Exactly what he didn’t want to happen. On top of everything else! That old ruse, earlier tonight, of checking in on her and pretending he’d expected to see her father was surely wearing thin. He’d done it too many times of late. But he couldn’t stop himself from making up excuses to see her.

  But also, he’d wanted to sneak in and add a few pennies to the drawer, like he used to do with Mir Talbot. Especially when he was ailing, and hadn’t noticed Rhys’s slight-of-hand.

  He must be the only fool in the world who crept into an office and deposited money while the boss wasn’t looking.

  But Carys was a different person altogether. She knew every penny that came in and each one that paid out as well. Extras would make her suspicious.

  He hadn’t needed to take Carys to see Sally, he could have dealt with the pony in his own time, and not added to the poor woman’s workload.

  She’d taken his haste to go back to Sally, as a sign of a problem, and so she’d followed him to the stable. What he’d really wanted was some time to think - to work on his plan to save the company and all their jobs.

  She had no idea of the affect she had on him. Maybe it was time to admit to himself he didn’t want to save the company as much as he wanted to save Carys Talbot from a future of debt and an overload of work.

  He’d needed to clear his head, so had volunteered to get the ponies from Swansea … and yet she’d come along for the ride and now he was more addle-pated than ever.

  Maybe if he should tell her of his plans?

  She might chase him out of town.

  Or, she might just go along with it. She might even appreciate all he was doing and … no. Best not to get his hopes up. She must never find out how much he truly and ardently admired her, nor discover the deep shame of his past deeds.

  To everyone else at the Tramways Co-operative, he was a local lad from the Valleys who spoke Welsh and English equally well.

  If anyone knew who he truly was, he’d be run out of town.

  Chapter 4

  The oysters were delicious, but no sooner had Rhys watched Carys slip the hot morsel into her mouth than the rains began in earnest. They wrapped the rest of their meal in paper and darted back to the carriage. Poor Charlie had to walk in the rain. He was used to it, but that didn’t mean he liked it.

  Rhys opened the carriage door and urged Carys in, then took to the driver’s seat on his own and kindly asked Charlie to keep walking. Although the ground was wet, it shouldn’t be slippery with ice just yet, so it was safe for trotting.

  The sliding window from the driver’s seat to the carriage opened and Carys called out, “You have the rest of the oysters, you deserve them for doing all the work.”

  “It’s Charlie who’s working the hardest, do you think he’d like any?”

  “Not sure it would be good for him, and from where you’re sitting, it might be dangerous to find out!”

  A laugh burst forth as the visuals of such an event came to mind.

  “By the way, Mr Jones. They gave us too many oysters. We’ll have to stop on the way back and set things to rights,” Carys said.

  “I got extra,” Rhys said without thinking.

  “On your salary?” Laughter echoed inside the carriage. “You should have let me pay.”

  It wasn’t the icy wind making Rhys freeze. Why had he admitted this so easily? Now there would be questions.

  Think of something, fast! “They’re old friends, they must have given us some extra. And with the weather being so bad, they’re unlikely to have many customers tonight. Now close the hatch and keep yourself warm, no point all three of us freezing to death.”

  He tried to sound friendly, but worry churned his guts.

  He had to find a way of explaining how he had the money to help the company, without exposing his shameful past. And he also had to make sure nobody else found out, either, otherwise their already poor patronage would vanish to nothing at all. The Talbot Tram Company wasn’t the only one operating along this line. There was a general agreement along the businesses that each company plied their section of the route fairly. But if one company let the whole side down, it would damage all of them.

  He couldn’t let that happen.

  Carys saw the marker showing a half-mile to the Swansea depot. That meant they’d turned into the wind coming off the bay. The gale hit them front-on instead of sideways. It would be even worse up there than when it had started to rain.

  She slid the panel open between the carriage and the driver and copped sleet in the face. “Are you still all right up there?”

  “All’s right with the world, Miss Talbot. But Charlie will need a good rub-down and a warm blanket or five when we get to the depot.

  It began to hail, because of course the night could not get any worse. Carys sent up prayers to beg the hail to stop. Knowing their luck tonight, the hail would get even bigger.

  The nights came so early this time of year, it felt much later than it should have been. It possibly wasn’t even seven o’clock. That’s what came from being out on such a miserable night, And Carys had had an easy ride of it, all things considered. Poor Mister Jones had earned a head full of cold wind and sleet. She would drive the ponies home, and make sure Mr Jones sat in the carriage to stay dry. It was only fair.

  The stables were cold and draughty, but at least they were dry and out of the worst of the wind.

  It was miserable work getting the harness off Charlie, but he was an excellently behaved worker who made things easy for them; ducking his head when needed, stepping forward when required. What a champion.

  “Thank you, Charlie.” Carys rubbed a dry rag over his head and mane.

  Rhys dried off his back and flanks with a larger blanket, the two of them working quickly to warm the animal and themselves into the bargain.

  The stablehands here rushed back and forth to supply clean blankets and make the stable ready. They weren’t expecting any animals coming back this evening, but they had plenty of other horses and ponies in here to keep them busy. There were other companies’ ponies here from further afield, like the collieries and the mines that fed the line down to Swansea. In a dry stable together, were Carys’s other two Welsh ponies, Doris and Joan. There they were, dry and happy, no care for the weather outside, chewing absently at something.

  “Oh no, not them as well!” Carys charged forward and ripped the branch out of Joan’s mouth. “Who would bring such food in to the stables?”

  “What’s occurring?” Rhys asked.

  “It’s the same plant that made Sally so ill,” Carys held it up.

  Rhys held the lantern closer, to see for himself. “Yes, it is.” He called over the stable hands, “Lads, how did this branch get in here?”

  They both looked dumbfounded.

  “You’re not in trouble,” Rhys said, “We just need to know where this greenery is coming from. It’s as much for your horses’ sakes as ours. They’ll all get sick and the entire tramline will be out and make no mistake.”

  One of them chewed the inside of his mouth in thought and then said, “It’s a new supply that’s come down from Brecon way.”

  Rhys nodded and tossed the branch into a muck pile that would go out in the morning’s waste. “Thank you for letting me know. Now, both of you, make sure none of the other horses have eaten any of this.”

  The other lad shrugged, “We only feed them what the boss gives us, it wasn’t our decision, mind.”

  Carys put them at ease. “I’m sorry if we sounded panicked or angry, it’s just that our Sally, you know the one, she’s been slobbering because she ate something like this. It’s a lot of extra work wiping their faces.”

  Rhys added, “And the other end.” He grabbed a lantern and spent a while searching the stables for any more branche
s of the terrible plant.

  Hail continued to bash the stable’s roof. There was absolutely no point at all in attempting a return journey in such wild weather.

  With the horses settled and tucked in for the night and the remaining rhododendron sprigs removed, Rhys suggested he and Carys head to the tap house across the road. “We may as well eat something and wait out the storm, as stand around here with empty bellies.”

  Carys had to shout over the noise of the hail. “Excellent idea!”

  They held a horse blanket over their heads to stop the icy stones smashing them and charged across the street. Rhys ordered while Carys sat at a table near the fire, thawing out. It was noisy in here as well, but not as noisy as the stables. The extra bodies in the taproom muffled the outside ruckus, as did the second and third stories above them.

  To Carys’s surprise, the landlady brought out a tray of roasted vegetables glazed in honey for them to share. The aromas set her mouth to watering immediately. The leeks and parsnips were so sweet and slowly cooked, they virtually melted in her mouth. The roasted potatoes were crisp and fatty on the outside and soft as a pillow within.

  Making soft noises as she swallowed, Carys declared, “If I’d known about the food here, I would have come up more often and treated myself. This is exactly what I needed on a cold night.”

  She wondered how her young siblings were faring at home. Annie would have the fire going and her the rest of them would be dishing something out of the pot and adding a wedge of cheese to the side. And most likely some bread.

  “Glad you like it,” Rhys said, taking another parsnip for himself, but making sure there was plenty left for her. “They’re worth the trip in hail.”

  No arguing with that. “I hope it eases up for our return.” The thought of heading back in this awful weather filled Carys with dread. But go back they must.

  Rhys laughed. “Don’t think of that just yet. It will spoil the meal.”

  As if the weather heard them, a barrage of fresh hail smacked at the windows like an impatient customer. Others in the taproom heard the growing storm and ordered more drinks rather than face nature’s wrath. After all, it was warm in here, and miserable out there. No need for further thought.