Firebird Read Online Free Page B

looking desperately for a way to expose him for the sham he was. But it was hopeless, Gwen Savage was besotted.
    Llinos turned on her side and closed her eyes and willed herself to sleep.
    He was there again, in her dreams. He was beautiful, exotic, like no-one she had ever seen before. He had long hair that lifted in the breeze, golden skin and eyes that were as blue as the summer skies. He was smiling at her and behind him was a vast expanse of country with high tors and clear skies and rushing crystal rivers.
    She knew they loved one another. Knew that they were happy together. He took her hand and his hair was silky as it blew against her cheek. He stood at least six inches taller than she. He was young, yet she knew he was much wiser than many men twice his years.
    When she woke in the morning, it was with reluctance. She tried to hold on to the warmth and the joy of her dreams. But it was no use. The sound of her mother’s raised voice and Nora crashing pans in the kitchen shattered the stillness. Llinos rose from bed and stood for a moment in the chill of the morning, dreading going downstairs. Gwen Savage had been used to a houseful of servants waiting on her. She could not understand that those days were gone; the fortunes of the Savage family had dwindled to almost nothing. Llinos dressed quickly. She had another long hard day at the pottery before her.
    It was a quiet ceremony, performed at the church of St John by an elderly vicar who clearly wanted nothing more than to sit down and ease the ache in his legs.
    Llinos sat in the front pew and watched in silent misery as Mr Cimla placed the ring on her mother’s finger. Gwen was radiant, her eyes soft as they looked up at her handsome new husband. And then it was over and in silence the couple walked up the aisle of the church towards the open door. There was no organ music, that would cost extra and Mr Cimla had decided that the money could be better spent.
    Llinos followed the couple along the streets towards Pottery Row, her head bowed as she watched her mother’s skirts sweep along the dust in the roadway. There should have been a carriage but Mr Cimla’s meanness had won the day and Gwen had decided against it.
    As the wedding party walked along Pottery Row the place suddenly became a hive of activity. Celia-end-house carried a bucket of steaming water to her door and got busy scrubbing the stone steps outside her house. Mrs Millie Cooper was cleaning her windows and some of the other women stood in a group talking. There was an air of expectancy about them that Llinos was quick to notice.
    â€˜Good luck to you, Mr and Mrs Cimla.’ Celia-end-house came towards them, her hands outstretched. ‘We had a whip-round and made a collection to wish you luck on your wedding.’ She paused and Llinos, glancing at Mr Cimla, saw him bow charmingly to Celia, anticipating a fine gift.
    â€˜With the money I collected, I’ve made you a home brew and some cake, something to cheer you on this special day.’
    â€˜Thank you, Celia, it’s much appreciated,’ Gwen said and looked up at Mr Cimla. ‘Isn’t it kind of our neighbours to think of us?’
    He bowed stiffly but did not speak. He was obviously disappointed in the humble gifts. His hand rested on Gwen’s elbow, urging her towards Pottery House.
    Llinos followed reluctantly. She did not want to go indoors, did not want to sit and watch Mr Cimla coo over her mother. Perhaps after a reasonable time she could change into her working clothes and go to the pottery sheds.
    â€˜Pour some of that grog, Gwenie.’ Mr Cimla tugged at his stiff collar, unfastening it from his shirt and throwing it onto the mantelpiece.
    â€˜Here, girl, take this upstairs and hang it carefully, I don’t want it creased.’ He handed Llinos his coat and sat down in the rocking chair before the fire.
    â€˜Come on, Gwen, for heaven’s sake, you are too slow to catch a