Gwenna the Welsh Confectioner Read online

  But what occupied Gwenna’s mind the most as she packed a basket with soup, pies and cakes, were thoughts of the day several months earlier when Elias and Hugh were away and all the girls had got together.

  Bethan had been cheered – happy even – having her daughters and grandchildren around her. She rarely saw them, despite living within walking distance. That day, though, small niggles and past resentments were put aside, and the women enjoyed each other’s company, chatting about what was going on in their lives. Except it hadn’t gone quite as Gwenna had wished.

  “Do any of you know where my Samuel is these days?” Bethan asked. She always asked. She missed her middle son and always believed he’d return one day. The sisters glanced at one another, each waiting for someone else to speak.

  “Last I heard, he was in Christchurch,” Louisa shrugged. “Not that I care much. I’ve got far too many things to do than worry about him. What with my two, and all the social and charitable commitments I have, it’s more than a body can cope with.” Louisa took a bite of Tillie’s fudge, peered at it sideways and put it down again.

  Ungrateful cow, thought Gwenna.

  “Didn’t I hear you say something about wanting a larger house of your own?” Tillie asked, hoping the answer would help Bethan.

  “Oh, you know how it is. Time will tell. We are rather overcrowded, but Albert’s father has just taken on a new apprentice, so at the moment Bertie is far too busy in the butchery to consider it. I even have to help with the chores, of all things. Just look at my hands! Maybe we’ll think about it in the New Year. Father-in-law has said Bertie is due for a promotion.”

  Gwenna thought she sounded far too smug, but any thoughts that Louisa might help Bethan had been thwarted.

  Janetta wasn’t much better. Not wanting to be outdone by her older sister, she retaliated. “Percy is expecting a promotion, and an increase in salary in the New Year.” The sisters shot a snippy glance at each other, but Janie had always been the more good-natured of the two. “It’s nice, getting together like this, isn’t it? But it’ll be my last outing for a while. Percy says I’m getting so big with this child, it wouldn’t be decent to be seen in public. I wish we had a place of our own, or at least a little outdoor space. A toddler in the house is so demanding.” Her voice faded away with a sigh.

  “Poor, hard-done-by Janie,” muttered Gwenna under her breath, getting more cross with her stepsisters as time passed. “You don’t come around that often,” she said out loud.

  “Well, no. I suppose not. It’s Elias’s fault. He is so rude, I simply can’t be bothered.”

  Gwenna saw the way Bethan’s face fell at Janetta’s words, and when Louisa said something similar, her shoulders collapsed and she dropped her head.

  The four sisters parted company, agreeing they’d had a lot of fun, and yes, they should do it again. Some day. Soon. Gwenna didn’t have any expectations it would be soon enough. Sometimes she despaired of ever being allowed to live her own life. More and more, Bethan’s daughters left it to her to enrich Bethan’s life with news and companionship ...

  “Righto, Mam,” said Gwenna when she’d finished packing the basket. “I’m away round to Tillie’s. Are you sure you’ll be all right?”

  Elias’s behaviour had worsened since his trip away. He’d always liked a drink at the local after work, and more so at the weekends, but of late his drinking had increased to the point where he came home drunk most nights. Gwenna worked harder than ever to appease his demands, but nothing she did was good enough, and she and Bethan had taken to shutting themselves in their rooms at night to avoid him.

  “Yes, yes, girl. I’m fine. I’ll put Charlie to bed soon and then get away meself. Elias doesn’t come looking for me. It’s only if I’m in his way does he remember he’s angry about something.”

  Gwenna was tired of being the brunt of her stepbrother’s temper, and Hugh being away more often than not, trying to salvage the declining sales, was not helping matters. When questioned by Gwenna, Hugh reluctantly admitted the trip with Elias earlier in the year had been a disaster. While Hugh had not dared to say what had happened or what he thought, Gwenna pieced together enough to confirm her opinion that Elias was destroying the business.

  Not that it made any difference. She liked Hugh. A lot. He was sturdy and reliable, but he was no talker – and no salesman either. Elias needed someone like Tom Griffiths to be the frontman.

  As soon as the thought popped into her head, she dismissed it. Right now, Tillie needed Tom in a steady, well-paid job. She was expecting, which – after the best part of two years’ trying – was a joy, but she was so ill every morning, she could do little else for the rest of the day. Cooking meals turned her stomach and she no longer made her fudge. To help out, Bethan baked an extra pie or made broth, and Gwenna took it around to them when Elias was out. Tonight was no exception.

  With a shawl around her shoulders, Gwenna picked up her basket. “Take care then. He might be different tonight. He’s been like a bear with a sore ’ead all day. He can’t abide the thought that the new government might pass the forty-hour week into law.” She stooped to kiss her stepmam on the forehead. “I’ll be as quick as I can.”

  The heels of Gwenna’s boots echoed between the buildings as she hurried along the street and turned the corner. Loads of people were still out and about celebrating ‘Labour Day’. Not that everyone had heard of Samuel Parnell, the man who, in 1840, had successfully petitioned the government for an eight-hour working day, nor that it had taken fifty years – until 1890 – to commemorate his achievement. Thousands had taken to the streets that day to watch the parade. Government workers had been given the day off, and many businesses had closed for the first time. While the celebrations were now an annual affair, Labour Day would not be an official public holiday until next year.

  Even so, the laws still allowed employers to make women and young people work up to nine and a half hours a day, as well as several late nights. Gwenna had read in the newspapers how many hoped the upcoming election on the sixth of December would change the situation. New laws would be passed so nobody worked more than forty hours, and shop closing hours would be regulated. She, too, hoped it was true.

  She zigzagged her way between the people, laughing and saying hello to those she knew. She loved the bustle of Karangahape Road, harness jangling as the horse tram clattered past, cyclists ringing their bells to let people know they were coming, market sellers calling out their wares and the windmill looming above. They were all part of the fabric of life.

  As she headed down the street towards Tillie’s, she heard Johnno’s voice.

  “Wait up, Gwenna. Where ya going in such a hurry?”

  She stopped to wait for him, smiling. “To Tillie’s. She’s not well, so I’m taking them supper, but I have to get back home before Elias.”

  Johnno took the basket from her and reached for her hand as they walked on. “Well, don’t fret there. I’ve just seen him in the King’s Arms along in France Street. He’s already three sheets to the wind and has plans to be totally legless, by the sound of things. He’ll not bother you tonight. Let’s talk awhile.”

  Gwenna wasn’t sure whether to be cheered by this news or more nervous. Sooner or later Elias would find his way home, and what happened then would depend on how bad he felt.

  “That’s a relief, but I still can’t stay. He’ll have a right sore ’ead tomorrow, and I don’t want to give him any reason to be mad at me.”

  “I can make sure he don’t make it home tonight, if’n you like.”

  Gwenna stopped in her tracks, letting go his hand. “What are you suggesting?”

  Johnno tapped a finger to his cap. “Just that I know people who could take care of ’im.”

  “No,” said Gwenna, shocked at the thought. “You can’t. Elias has enough enemies of his own. I don’t want to see him hurt.”

  “Gwenna Price, you’re too soft-’earted. He won’t hesitate to hurt you when it suits him. And he nee
ds a taste of his own medicine.”

  Shaking her head, she tried to take the basket off him. “Leave it, Johnno. I’ll just drop this off and head straight back.”

  But Johnno wouldn’t let go. “I’ll come with you then. And walk you home.” The twinkle in his eye gave her some idea of how long the walk home might take, and what they might do on the way. She quivered at the thought.

  While Johnno hovered in the shadows out of sight, she knocked on the door.

  “Hello, love,” said Tom, the lamp in the hall casting light on Gwenna as he held the door open. “Tillie’s asleep. She’s had a bad day. Do you want to come in for a few moments?”

  “Thanks, Tom, but no. I won’t tonight. Here’s your supper.”

  “You’re too kind, Gwenna. Tillie and I are so grateful to you and Bethan, but there’s too much for one person. I still have some left over from last time.”

  “Isn’t Tillie eating anything?”

  “A little soup sometimes. I hope this passes soon, poor girl. She worries me.”

  “Don’t worry too much. Mam says it’s normal for women to get this sickness. It’ll pass in a few weeks.”

  Tom disappeared for a few moments to unload the basket while Gwenna waited. Across the street, staring at her silhouette, stood Hugh.

  A few minutes later Gwenna had linked arms with Johnno. They walked to the bottom of Beresford Street and turned towards Western Park.

  Johnno peered over his shoulder. “You know the fella who works for you watches you, don’t you? Unless you’re with me.”

  “Hugh? Never,” said Gwenna in disbelief, glancing over her shoulder. “Why would he?”

  “Dunno. Making sure you’re safe, maybe. He’s gone now.” Johnno shrugged.

  Any thoughts of Hugh disappeared from her mind as she and Johnno wandered into the shadows, heads together, whispering, giggling and stealing quick kisses.

  Finding a cosy spot between the buttress roots of a large tree, Johnno spread his coat out for them to lie on. Wrapped in his arms, Gwenna believed her dreams of another life could come true after all.

  4

  Life-changing news

  2 December 1899

  Gwenna returned from her second visit to the privy and flopped into Bethan’s armchair. The unmistakable aroma of baking bread was making her feel queasy again, and she put her arm across her forehead to block the light. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Mam. Must be something I ate, but I feel awful sick.”

  Bethan wiped floury hands on her apron before pulling up a dining chair. “I’ve a mighty suspicion what ails you, Gwenna, but I was hoping I was wrong. I was hoping you wouldn’t get yourself in this position.”

  “What position?” Gwenna, feeling hot, flapped her skirt and undid a button on her blouse.

  “You’re expecting, girl. Did you not suspect anything?”

  “Expecting!” Gwenna’s head throbbed and she felt faint. “I can’t be.” Disbelief, denial and dread fell over one another as she digested the news.

  “I see more than you realise, young woman,” said Bethan. “And aye, you can be, if you’ve been doing what I think you’ve been doing, with that young fella who’s been hanging around. An’ getting Hugh to pass you messages. Poor man. It must break his heart.”

  “But ... it’s not ...” Guilt and uncertainty warred with each other in her brain. “How can you be sure?”

  “For goodness’ sake, Gwenna. Don’t be so naive. I’ve had five of me own, remember, and I know the signs. I’ve been watching you these last weeks. You’ve filled out a little, and your skin has changed. And I bet your breasts are giving you trouble, too. Nothing much, and no one else would pay any heed. Ask Tillie if you don’t believe me.”

  “But ...” Gwenna hesitated, feeling the hot blush rise from her chest and burn her cheeks. Unable to face Bethan, she covered her eyes with her hands. “But ... he said ... ’twould be all right if he didn’t go all the way,” she finished in a rush. Removing her hands from her face, she pleaded with her stepmother. “And we didn’t. Honest, Mam. We didn’t. So how ...?”

  “It doesn’t work that way, pet.”

  Embarrassed and chastened, Gwenna fell to her knees in front of Bethan, wrapped her arms around her stepmam’s neck and burst into tears. “Oh, what have I done?” she wailed through the sobs. “What’s to become of me?”

  Bethan patted the girl on her back and let her cry.

  In time Gwenna asked, “What should I do?”

  “The only thing you can do, Gwenna, bach.”

  * * *

  Elias didn’t know about the baby – yet – but Gwenna needed a solution before he found out. And she didn’t have long – Bethan reckoned she was six or seven weeks gone. She would start to show soon.

  A few mornings later Elias grabbed her as she returned from yet another visit to the privy, pinching the soft part of her underarm as he pulled her inside. His grip tightened and Gwenna winced. “I won’t have you shirking off like this. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how many times you disappear.” He shoved her down the hall in front of him and she lurched into a side table. “Now get to work.”

  She didn’t know whether it was the pain in her stomach from hitting the table, the fact she felt so terrible, or sheer worry that caused her to snap, but the tension inside her erupted. “You’ve no right to tell me what to do, Elias Hughes. You do next to nothing these days except shout and bluster and drink yourself to a standstill. I work hard enough and always have done. Now leave me alone.”

  She stormed back to the kitchen and started banging the pots and pans around and slamming cupboard doors as she prepared another batch of sugar. A shudder overtook her as she thought of what she’d done. Elias hadn’t followed her, but that didn’t mean anything. He could still make her pay later for her outburst. Although maybe facing up to him might make him change his behaviour. The idea left her as quickly as it had come. The reason the beatings had decreased in the last few months was because Elias was hung-over more often than not, and had no enthusiasm for anything. If it wasn’t for the work she and Hugh did, the business would have folded. Or rather the work Hugh had done, but he was gone now.

  Hugh had left for training camp six weeks earlier, at the end of October. Gwenna had been more than surprised when he volunteered to join the forces going to South Africa to fight a war. The first contingent, with two companies, had left in mid-October, and it seemed no sooner had they gone than Hugh volunteered for the second contingent, due to depart in January. How he got accepted, as he wasn’t a military man, she’d never know, but he was good with horses, so she guessed that was the reason.

  Elias had been furious, but Hugh just stood there listening to the rant, his face impassive. Gwenna hadn’t completely fathomed Hugh’s reasons for leaving either, but his words echoed in her mind long after he’d gone: ‘I can let go now, knowing you’ll be safe with someone else to look out for you.’

  What did he mean? Let go? But something Johnno had said months ago about Hugh came to mind. She just couldn’t remember what it was. Something about watching her.

  Gwenna was still banging pots around when Bethan walked in.

  “My, it’s warm out there. What’s all the noise about, girl?” Bethan removed her bonnet, hung it on the coat rack and patted her hair into place.

  “Nothing!”

  Regretting taking her temper out on Bethan, Gwenna turned to apologise and saw her mam was wearing her going-out dress: a slightly old-fashioned but pretty mid-blue skirt, with navy frills and ruffles at the back over a small bustle, and a matching tapered-front jacket.

  “Where have you been?” Surprise registered in Gwenna’s voice.

  “Don’t tell Elias. I slipped along to the post office to make sure I was on the register for next week’s election.”

  “Wouldn’t you still be on their list from ’93?” Gwenna was confused. Women had been granted the right to vote in time for the 1893 election, with very little fuss. It had been a momentou
s decision and New Zealand had been the world leader. She’d read about the suffragette troubles overseas and assumed every woman here would have rushed to sign up.

  Bethan shook her head. “I wasn’t on the list. I didn’t vote ...”

  “You didn’t?” interrupted Gwenna shocked by the missed opportunity. “Why ever not? I would have.”

  “I don’t know. Life was busy – remember, we’d not been here long, not even two years at the time – and we didn’t know much about the way the country worked. Your father always talked to me about what he knew of politics and his thoughts on the matter. It just didn’t seem necessary at the time, since I agreed with him. It does now.”

  “What about last time then, in ’96?” Gwenna wished she was twenty-one and could vote. “You must have voted last time.” She couldn’t wait to have her say in how the laws affected women.

  Bethan shook her head in sadness. “No. Not last time either. Your father was so sick three years ago I couldn’t bear to leave him, even for a little while. You remember, don’t you?”

  Gwenna stopped mid-action. Placing both hands on the wooden bench scrubbed almost white, her head fell forward as her eyes filled with the tears she’d been fighting since her run-in with Elias. She remembered only too well how sick her father had been. They’d expected – hoped – the summer would help him get better, and although his coughing had eased with the warmer weather, nothing had saved him.

  “What is it, child?” Bethan put her arm around Gwenna’s shoulder. “What’s happened?”

  Gwenna shook her head.

  “You’ve been ill again. I can tell by the colour of your skin. Has Elias found out?”