Free Sweet Rosie by Iris Gower Page A

good,’ Watt said. ‘He’s having the doctor call on Maura every day; he’s brought in a nurse who is used to dealing with this sort of thing.’ He hesitated. ‘If only Joe was here, he’d save Maura’s life, I know he would.’
    Llinos felt her eyes mist with tears. ‘I wish he was home too.’
    Llinos watched from the window as Watt walked towards the stables. He was her right arm; he knew the pottery and loved it as much as she did. How was she going to manage without him? She looked at her reflection in the glass of the window. She would manage, she would just have to.
    ‘Joe,’ she whispered, her breath misting the glass, ‘if ever I needed you, it’s now.’
    ‘They’re dying like flies and there’s nothing I can do but offer them the last rites.’ Father Martin was seated in Eynon’s house staring dejectedly at the rich carpet under his feet.
    Eynon touched his friend’s arm. ‘Look, Martin, you are doing everything you can. Stay a while, share some food and wine with me, it will make you feel better.’
    Martin shook his head. ‘I’m a vicar of this parish, I have a job to do and it’s not about me feeling better.’ He looked up briefly. ‘If only our old vicar was still alive, he would tell me the things I should be saying, the words of comfort folk expect from a man of the cloth. I’m useless at it, Eynon.’
    ‘No you are not!’ Eynon said. ‘I hear all around me of your courage, the way you go into houses where most of the family has died of the sickness. You are a man, Martin, not a god, you can only do your best and that is what you are doing.’
    ‘Do you think so?’ Martin looked at him hopefully. ‘Do you really think I’m acquitting myself well?’
    ‘I most certainly do. Now come on, have something to eat, I insist.’
    ‘I dare not,’ Martin said flatly. ‘I have closed the eyes of the dead and I will not risk Jayne’s health by sitting at the same table as her.’ He smiled with a semblance of his old warmth. Even now he looked like an overgrown baby. His cheeks were pink and unlined; his hands dimpled like those of a child. It was only the lines around his eyes that gave away the strain he was under.
    ‘I know what you could do, though,’ he said, ‘you could bring some food and wine out into the conservatory; it’s too cold for a child at this time of year.’
    ‘Good idea!’ Eynon said. ‘I’ll do that.’
    It was in a companionable silence that they ate their meal of cold ham and cheese and fresh baked bread warm from the oven. The butter had been churned early in the morning and drops of water slid from the yellow mound like tiny tears.
    ‘Lovely salt butter,’ Martin said appreciatively. ‘But then, I always did enjoy your hospitality, Eynon.’ He paused, a mouthful of bread lodged in the side of his cheek making him look even plumper. ‘You are a good friend, Eynon, the best friend any man could want. If anything should happen to me, well, I just want you to know that I appreciate your loyalty and your support all these years.’
    Eynon stared at him. ‘You are not going to leave me your worldly wealth then?’ he joked. ‘Listen to me, Martin, you are not going to die of the whooping cough, I won’t have it!’
    ‘I think it’s up to Him.’ Martin pointed at the clouds. ‘The man upstairs decides when it’s time for me to go.’
    Eynon rested his hand on Martin’s arm. ‘Right then, if we’re going to be maudlin, I’ll tell you that you are the closest thing to a brother any man could have. I won’t do without you, you must survive, do you understand?’
    Martin nodded and the two men sat in silence for a while. Martin ate no more of the crusty bread and the salt butter of which he was so fond. At last, he rose to his feet.
    ‘I’ve got to go,’ he said. ‘I’ve other friends to visit.’ He held out his hand but Eynon ignored it and pulled Martin close to him.
    ‘You keep yourself safe, do you hear me?’
    ‘I hear you.’ As