Gwenna the Welsh Confectioner Read online

  Elias saw the alarm in Bethan’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Elias. Of course, you know what’s best,” she soothed, still wary of the bad-tempered brute of a few months ago.

  “Yes. I. Do.” He turned on his heel and left in case he said anything that might upset their fragile relationship.

  Alice did not offer him the solace he’d hoped for. Quite the opposite. Feeling as confused and out of sorts as when he’d left home, he needed to drown a few sorrows before heading off on a journey he didn’t want to undertake.

  Tuesday lunchtime was not the greatest time to catch men idling at the pub. Elias started with the King’s Head at the bottom end of France Street but drew a blank, so he headed towards the Newton Hotel, his nearest local, on the corner of East Street. While having a half-pint of ale and picking up another comment to add to his list, he briefly considered going into the Naval and Family Hotel on the corner of Pitt Street but decided Black Jack was unlikely to have frequented it. The pub was too new and too well known, so he headed further east along Karangahape Road to the Star Hotel, near the corner of Newton Road. This end of the road had a reputation for being a bit rough and the perfect setting for some of the money-lending dealings Black Jack got into.

  And he was right.

  It cost him a few bob to get the rest of the information he needed, but Elias walked out of there with knowledge, if not comfort.

  16

  On the road to discovery

  17 April 1900

  Elias did not linger when he returned to North Street to gather his belongings and the food Bethan had prepared.

  “Gwenna’s resting,” said Bethan, helping him pack the saddlebags. “Her pains have stopped for now, but hurry, Elias. Do your best. She is fair grieving and it’s not helping matters.”

  With only a few hours of daylight left, Elias made his way south, following the Great South Road. Along the way, he counted on meeting people who could add to the information he’d already gathered. He didn’t fancy going to some of the remoter places without good reason.

  The busy road resounded with the scrunching of wood and metal rolling along the dusty road. Voices called out in greeting, bullocks and horses snorted and snickered, and cyclists rang their bells in warning. The noise of the traffic and rattling farm machinery passing the milestones, heading whichever way their destination took them, sounded louder than normal and stretched his nerves as he rode along.

  He was eager to get further south, beyond the towns and into the rolling hills and farmland, where he could hear the wind rustling the trees and the birds singing above the clip-clop of his horse’s hooves. In the meantime, Elias cast his eyes across everyone travelling towards Auckland, looking for other traders who might help him.

  “Have you seen Jack Jones’s wagon?” he called out a few times.

  “Not lately.” Or “Can’t remember when,” came most of the replies.

  “What you want with that no-gooder?” asked one, and another told him, “You’ll want nowt to do with ’im.”

  With the reins loose in his hands, Elias let his horse amble its way along the road. If he got a move on, he could make Papatoetoe or even Manurewa before it was too dark, but the more he thought about it, the more he decided against it. He might well have another hour or so of twilight beyond Otahuhu, but he would not have anywhere decent to stay or get a drink. And he needed a drink.

  The two-storey Star Hotel in Otahuhu was as unlike its namesake in Newton Road as possible, and much grander. The place was busy and well lit up when he arrived, but Henry Syms, the obliging landlord, soon found him a room and led him up the staircase. Its ornately carved banister attracted Elias’s newly trained eye for quality workmanship, and he stopped to admire it before being shown into a fresh and commodious bedroom.

  After arranging with Henry to have his horse stabled, he dropped his saddlebags on the floor. Pulling his shirt off over his head, Elias threw it across the bed and eased the creaks from his body. It had been a long day. Tipping water from the ewer into the matching bowl, he washed the dirt off his face, neck and hands, and pulled on a clean shirt. He would enjoy himself tonight – he might not have the opportunity to sleep in such salubrious surroundings on the road ahead.

  Back in the bar, buzzing with chatter and the clink of glasses, he ordered a cold ale to quench his thirst and a whisky to boost his spirits. What he’d heard about Black Jack so far didn’t bode well. The man had a dirty reputation for being mean-spirited and hard-nosed when it came to charging interest on his loans and getting his money back.

  Jack exploited the weaknesses of running a small business in isolated rural areas. Local storekeepers in need of new or specific goods to attract customers often ordered goods before they had the money to pay for them. Jack’s game was to lend them the money for the supplies he delivered, add on his delivery costs, then he charged huge amounts of interest, increasing daily if they couldn’t pay on time. Sometimes, Jack bought the goods in advance, paying the supplier with his own money, so the store owner was entirely beholden. Many later discovered, to their despair, they were paying interest only and none of the principal.

  His dealings with men trying to make business ends meet were bad enough, but lately, Elias had heard of cases where Jack had picked on struggling widows.

  He lent the women a few pennies for food or heating supplies in exchange for a bill of sale over an item of furniture and charged hefty interest on the money, increasing monthly. Word and anger spread, and Jack was openly scorned. In retaliation, Jack cancelled the loans and called them in, charging interest by the day until either someone paid him off or he seized the furniture, leaving the widows further bereft.

  While waiting for his second ale to be poured Elias gazed around the room. He spotted Robert Kernow, a carrier he’d sometimes used, sitting with a couple of men Elias didn’t know.

  “Hello, Bob,” Elias said, after making his way through the crowd. “Do you mind if I join you?”

  The last time the two of them had spoken Elias had been less than friendly. He assumed the man would not hold it against him. A faint frown crossed Robert’s face as Elias extended his hand. “No hard feelings, I hope.”

  Whatever thoughts Bob had, they faded from his face as he shook Elias’s outstretched hand. “Sit down, lad,” he smiled, and made the introductions. “This is Fred and Dave. Which way are you headed?”

  “Towards Pokeno.”

  Fred extended a hand in greeting. “Got a wagon with you?”

  “Not this time. Just my horse.”

  “Business or pleasure?” Bob indicated Elias should pull up a chair.

  “A bit of both. Got some messages to deliver and looking out for fresh business while I’m at it,” said Elias.

  “Well, watch yourself. Weather’s been bad down that way.”

  “’Tis true,” said Fred. “I heard there were a terrible storm in Thames a week or so back. Streets flooded at the Shortland end, and some houses in Richmond Street, and all thanks to that revolting Noke Noke Creek overflowing. It fair stinks, I can tell you. A man’d take his life in his hands trying to get through it. It’s right treacherous. And this road’s not much better. All ruts and mud.”

  The men shared their views on the general quality of the roads and streets found in most small towns: lack of drainage, the appalling conditions of the creeks and streams filled up with debris and effluent, and the health risks it caused.

  “The council should do something about it,” said Dave, thumping the table. “It’s just not good enough.”

  “Yeah, but where’s the money coming from?” argued Fred.

  The talk of councils and government, and how useless they all were, drifted to plans for the Plague Hospital in Auckland.

  “They want to build it in the Auckland Domain. Of all places!” said Bob. “The locals won’t have it, I tell you. They’ll win the day, you mark my words.”

  “But what if it strikes here like it has across the Tasman?” asked Fred. “I’ve been r
eading how widespread it’s become in Australia. Hundreds of deaths.”

  “It won’t get here. Don’t think about it,” dismissed Bob, changing the subject. “This here war against the Boers in South Africa is something to think about, though.”

  The only thought Elias had given the war, even though it was constantly in the papers, was that Hugh’s absence was proving a greater loss than Elias had first thought. For all the difficulties they’d had, Hugh was a master, well versed in the sugar business, as well as a good worker. Maybe he’d come back after his year was up and Elias could get out of the whole sticky business.

  “Of course we should have gone,” said Bob, determined not to be swayed by any doubts about the wisdom of New Zealanders being killed in a war that had nothing to do with them. “Aren’t we bound to Britain, like Seddon says, for our own security? We’re like a Britain of the South. If England goes, we go. It’ll be over by the end of the year.”

  “I’ll believe that when I see it. We’ve already sent five contingents over there,” argued Fred. “The last one left a few weeks ago. And there’s plans to send more.”

  “Won’t be needed, I reckon,” said Dave. “After all, how many troops does it take to defeat a bunch of Dutch farmers anyway?”

  Not having much interest in the war discussion raging on around him, Elias let his thoughts drift towards Alice, and he almost missed what Fred was saying.

  “It’s about time they introduced that Money-Lenders Bill they’ve been talking about to curb those greedy shent-per-shent men,” said Dave. “It sickens me what they get away with.”

  Keen to keep them on the subject, Elias ordered another round of ale. It would be worth the expense if he could pick up some useful information. “Do you know of anyone getting caught?”

  “Yeah, as a matter of fact, I do. It were my brother’s wife’s sister. She got cheated by that black-hearted swindler, Jack Jones.”

  It didn’t take much persuasion for Dave to elaborate on the story, and it differed little from the stories Elias had already been told about how Jack preyed on his victims. And, it seemed, he was adding more women to his list on a regular basis.

  “I’ll take to him with my bare hands if I ever get hold of him. As if it’s not bad enough, she’d lost her husband, but then to lose everything she owns to the likes of him is beyond bearing.”

  “He’s not worth the risk,” said Fred. “You’d swing if you did him any harm, even if he is a scoundrel.”

  “I know. I know.” Dave pointed his finger. “But do you know how much interest he charged her? Thirty-three per cent! Payable monthly, and she still hadn’t paid any principal off. He waited three months before he took the lot. Miserable bastard. I’d kill him, I would. Risk or no risk. If it would make any difference, but it’s too late ... too late.” Dave fell silent and swallowed the rest of his beer in one go.

  “Does anyone know where I could find Jack Jones?”

  Elias’s question surprised Bob. “Why on earth would you want to do that?”

  “Business reasons,” shrugged Elias. He didn’t want to mention Johnno if he could avoid it, in case he implicated the boy. Not that he cared much either way, but Bethan was adamant Johnno was nothing like his father and needed saving – both from himself and from his father – but mostly for Gwenna.

  Gwenna ... what was it about that girl that irritated him so much? She was good-looking in her own way, pretty even. Her mastery of the trade was without doubt, and she had been more than a kind stepdaughter to Mam. She worked hard and was willing, but she brought the worst out in him ...

  Nobody had seen Jack. The men continued to harangue each other for a while longer, but soon the conversation turned to the prices at the auctions and the saleyards, none of which interested Elias.

  “You’ll have to excuse me, gentlemen. I’ve an early start in the morning.”

  “Would you care to stay for a game or two of cards?” Bob invited.

  “No, thanks.” Elias pushed his chair back and got to his feet.

  “Well, take care as you go, lad,” said Fred. “Something went over the edge along the Razorback a while ago.”

  Elias promptly sat down again, a bad feeling sending a shiver down his spine. “Where exactly?” Maybe he still had a chance to pick up a clue.

  “It was on the steep part; you’ll know it – on the bend,” said Fred. “I wouldn’t have noticed except it was muddy after the deluge and I moved closer to the verge for a while to get away from the ruts. I saw gouge marks where the grass had been flattened, and bits of the edge had broken away.

  “When I got onto the straight further along I stopped and walked back. I tried to see into the bush, but I couldn’t see nowt beyond a few broken branches, and it were too steep for me to try and scramble down. Whatever it was has gone now.”

  “And when did you say it happened?” Elias prompted Fred to tell him more, taking care not to sound too eager.

  “A week or two maybe, going by the damage.” Fred shrugged. “It wouldn’t have been easy to spot. Not on the bend like that. Watch out for those ruts. They’re bad. Maybe it was nothing. Just take care.”

  Elias thanked Fred and said another goodnight to the others. As he was leaving he turned. “Do any of you know anything about a Johnno Jones?”

  “Ya mean Black Jack’s son?” asked Dave.

  “Is he?” Elias pretended not to know. “That’s a pity. I was told he’d be a good lad to take on for driving. I’ve been doing it myself, but it takes me away from the business too much. I need someone while my worker is overseas with this war.”

  “How Johnno turned out a good ’un is beyond my understanding,” said Dave. “But the lad’s all right. He used to do deliveries for his father. He’s worth talking to.”

  “Thanks for the help. Any idea where I might find him?”

  “Haven’t seen him in a while, come to think of it. Not for a month or so.”

  No one else at the table had seen him either.

  Elias bid them a final goodnight and left.

  17

  A day of reckoning

  18 April 1900

  Elias swallowed a large bowl of porridge swimming in creamy milk and washed down with two cups of tea. After saying his thank yous to the cook for the additional breads, cold meats and cheese he’d ordered for the road, he headed for the stables.

  The early morning sun on his back was a treat at this time of the year, and he kicked his mare into a steady trot. The sooner he reached the spot on the Razorback Fred had described, the better. Elias wanted to see the damage for himself. It might be nothing, but he had his suspicions he might find something more sinister.

  The roughly twenty-mile journey would take well over two hours, at best, with the long climb up the Bombay Hills and along the winding Razorback. If he found nothing, his journey ahead would be much longer. He groaned at the thought. He was not used to riding long distances, and he could feel the muscles in his legs aching before he’d begun. Elias started to plan where he would stop for the night long before he’d reached the hills.

  To distract himself, he let his thoughts dwell on the conversation he’d had with Alice before he’d left. “What should I do, Alice?” He explained his problem, anticipating she would tell him not to go. “I mean, I don’t even know this lad. I’ve not seen him in years and don’t think I would recognise him now if I did meet him. And for all I know, he could be on legitimate business and already back with his father. I’m not at all keen to go interfering.”

  “That may be so, but your mam and your sister ...” Alice put her hand up to stop him interrupting before he could correct her and say ‘stepsister’. In his mind, calling Gwenna ‘stepsister’ had put her one place removed from him, and not a real part of the family. “Stop it,” said Alice. “For goodness’ sake, Eli. By law, by time and by all that is right, she is still your sister. You’ve got to stop thinking any differently.”

  Elias sighed. “You’re too soft-hearted by far.”


  Alice smiled, and put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You know I’m right. Now, as I was saying, your mam and Gwenna have asked you to find Johnno. That’s all you need to know. Your family has turned to you to help them in a time of need. How could you not do as they ask?”

  He didn’t know what to think any more. For so many years he’d lived by his own rules and considered behaviour showing any kind of sentiment as a sign of weakness – and a successful business couldn’t afford to have a weak man at its helm. He needed to be strong, resolute, even hard-hearted, to be a man. Except in the back of his mind niggled the realisation he wasn’t a successful businessman in any way. Whatever the reasons, he had failed.

  But how could he admit such a thing, especially to Alice?

  These uncomfortable notions did nothing to settle his mind, or help him feel in control. Somehow, he’d let himself be bullied into searching for Johnno. It wasn’t something he wanted to do – and there was one reason why he would.

  “Would you go if I asked you?” asked Alice.

  “Of course, I would,” he’d replied. “I’d do anything for you. You know that.”

  “Then go. Not because of me, but because your mam asked you. Because Gwenna asked. And if all is well, nothing is lost, and if all is not well and you can save the day, then you will be the hero.”

  And, he admitted, because a creeping suspicion of something not being quite right had settled awkwardly in his gut.

  He kicked his horse into a canter. The rolling green hills dotted with sheep and cattle, and the darker hues of the bush backdrop flashed past. Elias found the sight of them much more enjoyable than either the busy city and its crammed-in buildings or the sad little towns, many still with makeshift living quarters.

  With the hills approaching, he slowed the mare to a walk, wriggled in the saddle and stood in the stirrups trying to stretch his knees and ease his aching muscles. He pushed on nevertheless. Suspense rising, he urged the animal into a fast walk.