Gwenna the Welsh Confectioner Read online

  Once everyone had had their fill of all the delicious food and the plates had been cleared, it wasn’t long before the group split again. The men resumed their conversation under the trees, while the ladies put away the remainder of the food. Bethan’s attention was claimed by the younger children. Tillie, Janie and Alice had their heads bent together talking over something, which left Louisa and Gwenna alone. She’d had no opportunity to ask Tillie what she and Louisa had discussed on the short walk back from the church, but Gwenna couldn’t leave the woman standing there forlorn.

  “Louisa, you look lovely today. Who made your outfit?” asked Gwenna hoping to get her stepsister talking.

  “My usual dressmaker, although it’s not new. I couldn’t ...” Louisa stopped, unable or unwilling to finish her sentence.

  “New isn’t necessary. It’s the fact we are all here that matters. It’s been a long time.”

  Louisa didn’t respond, nor did she face Gwenna. The garden took her eye instead.

  “Louisa, dear, I don’t wish to rake over old coals, there is no reward in discussing what can’t be changed,” said Gwenna softly, “but I would so like us to speak freely to each other again. Please, Louisa, you appear unhappy. Will you tell me what’s wrong?”

  Louisa turned her head sharply towards Gwenna, her eyes glistening and her face flaming. “What’s Janetta been telling you?”

  Taking a step back from her stepsister’s sudden hostility, Gwenna replied, “Nothing. I don’t know anything other than Janie said she was concerned. I have no idea why she should be, except for her comment you were a little short-tempered lately. Which I’ve just seen for myself.”

  Louisa’s head tilted and her face disappeared behind the brim of her hat. Her shoulders began to shake.

  “Shall I fetch Mam?” asked Gwenna. “Would you talk with her?”

  Without lifting her head, Louisa gripped Gwenna’s arm. Gwenna waited.

  After a few moments, Louisa’s hand disappeared into her reticule and she pulled out a fine lace handkerchief and dabbed her eyes. She lifted her head, her eyes sad and red-rimmed. “I’m sorry, Gwenna.”

  “Whatever for? There’s no need to apologise. You’re upset. Let me help you.”

  Louisa shook her head and took a deep breath. “You don’t understand. I’ve not been a very nice person at all. I’ve spoken badly of you too many times.”

  Gwenna stopped Louisa from saying anything further. “All that is in the past, and I don’t want to hear any more about it. We’re in a new year, a new century, and we have two people who are about to embark on a new life. We should take heed. New possibilities and opportunities await.” Gwenna smiled warmly, with a sparkle in her eye.

  “Why are you being so kind to me?”

  “I’m not being kind, Louisa. I’m being realistic. Truly I am. It’s better for us all if we get along.” Gwenna turned her head to find Alice and Elias and saw how happy they were together. Alice brought out the best in him and, to Gwenna’s mind, their future was secure. Now all she had to do was sort out her own. “Look at those two, Louisa. Are they not a picture? Alice has taught me much since I’ve known her. She’s practical, her eyes are wide open and she’s loyal. And I’ve learnt the importance of family from someone who doesn’t have one.”

  Taking Louisa by the arm, Gwenna led her to one of the tables. On her way to fetch a glass of sherry for them, Gwenna caught Tillie’s eye; she saw what Gwenna was doing and eased the others further away.

  Gwenna explained to Louisa how Janetta had beseeched her to forgive Elias, how Alice had persuaded Elias to bring them all together today, and how she and Elias had reached an agreement. “Alice wanted the family together for reasons of her own, and she made it happen. It mattered to her enough to throw caution to the wind and fight for it. Can’t we do the same?”

  Louisa remained silent.

  Gwenna carried on talking about the difference Charlie made to their lives now he was healthy and happy, and how Bethan had blossomed since she had grandchildren to care for and a purpose in life. “I can’t tell you what a difference she’s made. I couldn’t have done what I have without Tillie, and Tillie couldn’t have done it without Mam, and behind us both is Tom.” And Hugh, but Gwenna didn’t add his name to the mix. “We’re a team – like Eli, Alice and Mr Woodman are a team. What makes it work is we are happy, as individuals and with each other. We like what we do and who we are.”

  Gwenna detected a shift in Louisa. Not enough for her to say anything, but some of the tension went out of her. She was listening but, more importantly, Gwenna could see she was hearing the message. “Oh, Louisa, I don’t want to dwell on the past. There were too many reasons to be unhappy back then. I want to look forward. To build the business up to be strong enough so Charlie can be part of it, and so young Georgie will be the second George Price to run the business. Do you remember my pa’s dreams, Louisa? Do you?”

  A faint nod was all Gwenna needed.

  “Well, I’m following mine; Elias is following his; Tillie already has hers with Tom and Olwen, her sewing and her fudge. Her dreams may not be as grand, but they are hers and she’s happy. Janetta, too, has changed. I don’t know why yet, but I’ll find out. But what are your dreams, Louisa? Will you tell me? What happened to them?”

  After several moments when neither of them spoke, Louisa lifted her head. “I lost them,” she whispered, staring beyond Gwenna into a distance only she could see.

  Unable to say anything more, Louisa surveyed the garden. She watched Charlie playing catch with Mr Woodman. Percy and Elias were talking about something of great interest, going by the animated conversation. Bethan could have been mistaken for being years younger, with the little ones playing at her feet while she talked with Janie. Tillie and Alice must have gone inside because she couldn’t see them, and Tom was walking towards them with fresh glasses in his hand.

  “Come on, you two, enough of this sisterly chatter; it’s time you joined the others.” Turning to Louisa, he said, “Mrs Evans, I can’t tell you how delighted I am to have you here at my home for such a joyous occasion. I hope you will continue to visit us. And I look forward to getting to know Mr Evans.”

  At the mention of Albert Evans, Louisa’s face clouded. She swallowed her sherry in a most unladylike manner, turned to Gwenna and said, “I want to come home.” She burst into tears and fled into the safety of the house.

  “Did I say something wrong?” asked Tom, watching the woman, one hand on her hat and the other holding her skirt, running up the back steps and disappearing into the shadows.

  “Actually, Tom, you’ve more than likely brought everything to a head. Excuse me, I must go to her.”

  Gwenna didn’t get to Louisa. As she walked across the lawn, Janie stopped her. “I’ve got something to tell you,” she said. “When we can find a quiet moment.”

  That moment passed, too, as Tillie emerged from the house followed by Alice. Clapping her hands to attract everyone’s attention, Tillie said, “Can we all gather on the steps, please? It’s time to take the photographs.”

  This turn of events was a surprise to everyone except Tillie. Alice looked as if she’d won the prize of her life. She hurried down the steps towards Elias, almost bouncing with excitement.

  The buzz of conversation rose as one turned to another, eager to know more and ask who’d had their photograph taken. It wasn’t a new invention, but the idea was still too novel to take for granted. None of them had been photographed before.

  Gwenna soon saw who was responsible. Tom stepped forward and retrieved a canvas bag placed under the table where all the drinks had been set out. Those nearby peered over his shoulders as he removed a black leatherette box from its cover. He explained the circle at the front the size of a ha’penny was the lens, and it had a shutter lever, a winding handle on the side for turning the film and a two small viewing lenses – one on the top for vertical images and one on the side for horizontal – with two small latches keeping the back cover shut
.

  “It’s called a Brownie, and the first ones were released by a company called Kodak in America last year. You have a roll of film, which you thread through like this ... and there it is, ready to use,” said Tom, clicking the latches into place. “No need for any more trips to those stuffy studios with large cameras on tripods, false backgrounds and large lights. And no more fixed stares waiting for the shutter. We can take our own family snaps,” he explained, feeling pleased with himself. “Now, can we have everyone on the steps, please.”

  After issuing instructions as to who should stand and sit where, with Alice and Elias in the middle and Bethan at the front with the two youngest, everyone stood in place.

  Tom took several shots before Gwenna pointed out, “Louisa’s not here, and we need a photo with you in it, Tom.”

  Janie scurried off to find Louisa, while Gwenna ran next door to ask Hugh to join them. He would be able to use the camera as well as anyone, Tom assured her. When Gwenna and Hugh returned, Janie had placed Louisa in front of her on a lower step and firmly rested her hands on her sister’s shoulders. Louisa’s face was a little puffy, but it wouldn’t matter in time to come. The important fact was she was there. Janie whispered something in her ear and Louisa’s lips flickered into a small smile.

  Tom took a few moments to tell Hugh how to operate the camera. “And don’t worry when you see us all standing on our heads through this viewfinder. You will see the image upside down, but it prints the right way up. Clever, isn’t it?” Tom placed himself in the group. “Smile, everyone.”

  34

  Home Truths

  February 1901

  Gwenna had given little thought to the fact Saturday February 2nd had been designated an official day of mourning for the recently deceased Queen Victoria, or that shops, offices and other businesses were expected to close for the day. After having closed all day Wednesday for Alice and Elias’s wedding, she was now champing at the bit.

  “Honestly, Gwenna,” said Tillie. “You’re wearing yourself out. Do you realise how much weight you’ve lost? Mam says you’re not eating properly, again. You can’t be up making sweets half the night and working in the shop all day.”

  “I’ve got Hugh helping. I’m not doing it all by myself,” answered Gwenna, moving from bench to shelf, from shelf to worktop, worktop to stretching hook and back again, checking the copper pan heating on the range as she passed.

  Tillie paced around after her, trying to get Gwenna to slow down. “Maybe – but you’ve got him packaging up the goods and out on the road doing deliveries more than he’s here with you making them.”

  “Hugh’s doing a good job. If he didn’t do those jobs, then I’d have to, or I’d have to hire someone. And he’s not doing out-of-town deliveries any more. Haven’t you noticed? We’re much cleverer these days. Our stock goes by rail or steamer to the nearest station or port,” explained Gwenna, proud of her innovations. “And as for the sweet making, my reputation stands on the quality of what I make. I have to do it.”

  Since her own fudge was at stake in this conversation, Tillie was having none of it. “That doesn’t stop you making fudge, even though you say mine is superior. You can charge more for your specialties, like you do with my fudge – relabel them so everyone knows the difference if you want to – but let Hugh make the basics. He’s as capable as you.”

  “I’ll think about it,” said Gwenna, carrying on as if Tillie had not been there.

  “Well, if you won’t think of yourself, think of Mam.”

  Gwenna paused in her work and gaped at Tillie. “Mam? What’s the matter with Mam?”

  “Haven’t you noticed she’s ended up being full-time mother to our two? Tom pointed it out to me. I hadn’t noticed either, but apart from when Olwen wakes in the morning and I put her to bed at night, it’s Mam who looks after her and Georgie. Tom says it’s all right for the moment, but Mam’s getting older, Gwenna, and our children shouldn’t grow up believing she is their mam.”

  “Mam’s not that old, Tillie. She’s not fifty until next year.” Gwenna continued with her work, walking around Tillie leaning against the long table. “Maybe when the shop’s more established, I’ll consider it.”

  “The shop is established. How much busier could we get?”

  “But it’s still small change, Tillie. I haven’t paid back what I owe yet. I can’t lose all I’ve gained by letting up now.”

  “That’s not what Tom tells me, and you know it. He says the business is going very well. And he should know. He’s the one who does all the figures. You’ve done it, Gwenna. You’ve brought Pa’s dreams to life. Ease up a bit. Before you fall over.”

  Giving into a moment of glee, Gwenna’s mischievous smile brightened her eyes to sapphire. She took a stick of rock, twisted it into a figure of eight, held it against her eyes like a pair of glasses and poked her tongue out at Tillie. “Yes, Mrs Griffiths. Whatever you say, Mrs Griffiths,” she teased, before becoming serious again. Tom had told her the books were looking good, but Gwenna couldn’t bring herself to believe it possible. “Oh, Tillie, I do hope he’s right. But I can’t let up just yet.”

  She threw the twisted stick of rock into the air but missed when she reached out to catch it. It split into pieces on the floor sending them both into peals of laughter.

  “You must be done here for the day, Gwenna?” urged Tillie, helping pick up the bits of rock. “Do you want to go to the funeral service for Queen Victoria? It’s being held at Albert Park; there’s a parade carrying the wreaths to be laid at the foot of her statue.”

  Gwenna shook her head. “Actually, no, I won’t. Do you mind? I know Mam wants to go. Could you and Tom go with her? You could take the babies in the pram. I’d like to slip around to Janie’s. She said she had something to tell me at the wedding but we never got the chance to talk again. And I want to try and find out how Louisa is. Poor woman. Something’s not right.”

  * * *

  “You’re with child again, aren’t you?” Gwenna cried as soon as she saw her stepsister and gave her a hug. Janie’s face was a little rounder, her skin a shade pinker and her eyes appeared darker than ever.

  Clutching her hands before her, Janetta nodded enthusiastically. “How did you guess? I wanted to tell you at the wedding, but it never seemed the right time.”

  “You look so happy, Janie. Congratulations.”

  The two sat in Janie’s parlour with John, a year older than Georgie, playing on the floor. Billy, now four, had gone with his father to the funeral service, leaving the household peaceful. Over a cup of tea, the women chatted about the wedding and all the gifts the pair had received, from linens to glassware and a six-piece dinner set, to the glorious bed quilt Tillie admitted to making in secret, in the hope the pair would eventually set a date.

  “The partnership Mr Woodman gave Elias will set him up for life now,” said Gwenna. “Alice will have her hands full keeping both men on track, but she will. She is so good with figures, and she can still do the books even once they start having a family – and I bet they start soon. Elias might not realise it, but Alice can’t wait.”

  “Mr Woodman told me why he’d decided to give Elias the partnership,” said Janie. “He says Elias is destined to become a well-known name in the industry and he wanted to make sure the firm would be recognised as the best in bespoke furniture. But also to give Elias something to ‘perpetuate’ – is that the word? – after he, Mr Woodman, that is, retired.”

  Above all these things, though, was the standout surprise gift of the sideboard.

  “What sideboard?” asked Gwenna, unaware of the gift, having never visited the workshop and seen the work in progress.

  “The one Elias made.” Janie explained how she had first gone to his workshop after falling in love with Gwenna’s sideboard. “I used it as an excuse to visit Elias,” she said. “I go there quite often.”

  “You two always did get on the best as children,” said Gwenna. “But if Elias made it, who bought it?”<
br />
  “Guess.”

  Gwenna shook her head. “I’ve no idea.”

  “Louisa,” said Janie, keeping her voice down.

  Gwenna’s voice sounded too loud in the quiet. “She did? Why on earth would she do that? She never had anything to do with Elias after she married Mr Evans. And she certainly didn’t look like any happy gift-giver at the wedding.”

  “Shh.” Janie put her fingers to her lips. “Louisa’s asleep in the back bedroom.”

  Gwenna’s mouth dropped open and she spluttered. “Why is she here? What’s going on, Janie?”

  Gwenna sat aghast as Janie revealed Louisa’s story.

  It all began when Louisa heard about the thrashing Elias had given Gwenna back in October 1899. Pity for herself, mingled with pity for Gwenna. She, too, suffered – at the hands of Albert Evans.

  According to Janie, Albert’s mother, a tyrant at the best of times, had taken control of the household, the children and the money. Louisa was expected to keep up appearances and be the epitome of the society lady and do exactly as she was told. She didn’t always measure up.

  Butchering made Albert strong, but he made sure never to leave visible marks. Bruises on her upper arms where he squeezed too tightly, and on her back and shoulders, a punch to the stomach. Afterwards, Albert would buy Louisa a gift to say sorry, and life would go back to normal. Except the beatings had become more frequent.

  “Louisa hid it all behind a facade of prosperity, too ashamed to admit what her life was like,” explained Janie.

  Gwenna bit her lip. She felt guilty she’d never noticed. Should she have recognised the signs?

  “Remember what she was like at our get-together in Tillie’s house, just after Olwen was born? All so uppity and angry, and she couldn’t control the children,” continued Janie.

  Gwenna nodded. She remembered Bethan had said something was wrong that day.

  “It was going on back then. She had been on the verge of confessing to Mam many times but couldn’t bring herself to say anything. It’s only in quite recent times I’ve learnt about all of it myself.”