Firebird by Iris Gower Page A

impatience. ‘Last time we met I almost ran you down.’
    â€˜I’m surprised you remembered me at all.’ Llinos spoke acidly. Eynon Morton-Edwards was being friendly but why, what did he want?
    He took out a small brush from inside his coat and handed it to her. ‘Just run it through your hair,’ he said. ‘It’s coming loose again.’
    She contemplated throwing the brush back at him and then thought better of it. She brushed her hair with quick angry strokes. ‘There, are you happy now?’
    â€˜You are really quite pretty,’ he said. ‘You’d be very pretty if you smiled now and then.’ The white crisp collar at his neck emphasized his pallor. Eynon Morton-Edwards was not a strong man, she realized with a rush of remorse. Other people had their problems too and it was about time she remembered that.
    â€˜I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘have I upset you? I only wanted to make friends.’ Suddenly, it was as if the dam of ice within her melted. Llinos put her hands over her face and began to cry. She was ashamed of herself, ashamed of her ill temper and more ashamed of crying before a stranger.
    Tentatively, he put his hand on her arm, clucking to her as if she was a baby. ‘There, there, you’ll feel better for a good cry.’ He patted her shoulder and she leaned against him, grateful for his kindness. After a while, she wiped her eyes and smiled shakily.
    â€˜I’m all right now.’ She looked at him. The collar of his fine jacket was damp with her tears. ‘Thanks for being so . . . so . . .’ The words trailed away.
    â€˜Think nothing of it. I often feel like crying myself, only men are not supposed to cry, are they? At least that’s what my father has always drummed into me.’
    â€˜I’d better get on, sell the pots I haven’t broken.’ Llinos picked up the reins. ‘I’ll walk the rest of the way, the market’s not far.’
    â€˜Miss Savage,’ Eynon said, ‘I know you’ve had a bad time of things lately. I wish you would accept my offer of help, it’s well meant.’ He smiled. ‘I assure you, I have no ulterior motive.’
    â€˜I know.’ She believed him.
    â€˜Isn’t there anyone to look after you, no cousin or uncle or something?’ he asked as he fell into step beside her, leading his horse on the rein.
    Llinos thought of Celia, who would be cleaning the house, cooking up a pot of cawl , taking over her life. She nodded.
    â€˜I’ve got some help.’
    â€˜But it’s not the right sort of help?’
    She glanced sideways, seeing the softness of his features and the clean fall of his hair over his brow. She knew suddenly that she liked him. She felt instinctively that in spite of who he was, she could trust him.
    â€˜I have Celia helping in the house, she’s very good, but . . . anyway, what I need is financial help,’ she said. ‘I’m going to the bank while I’m in town to see Mr Francis. Perhaps he can advise me.’ Llinos heard her voice shake and swallowed hard. ‘I won’t lose the pottery, I just won’t.’
    â€˜I’m sorry. No wonder you were crying,’ Eynon said. ‘Would you like me to come with you to the bank? I am very friendly with Mr Francis.’
    â€˜No,’ Llinos said firmly. ‘If I’m to run the pottery and make it the fine business it once was I have to learn to stand on my own two feet.’
    â€˜I’m sure the bank will help,’ he said. ‘The Savage name was always good in Swansea. Once my own father even mentioned the place with respect and he doesn’t like anyone to be in competition with him.’
    â€˜Why should he worry about competition? He has got the biggest pottery in this part of the country.’
    â€˜I know, but he’s ambitious,’ Eynon said. ‘He’s trying out an