Gwenna the Welsh Confectioner

by Vicky Adin

  On the third day, Gwenna felt strong enough to push herself into a sitting position and started asking questions.

  To begin with, nobody was keen to discuss what had happened in the shop.

  “You have to tell me,” moaned Gwenna. “I’m going crazy with worry here.”

  “Don’t upset yourself, Gwenna, bach,” said Bethan. “Get better first.”

  By the end of a week, only a few bits of information had filtered through to her.

  “If someone doesn’t tell me what’s going on, I will get up and find out for myself.”

  Gwenna threw the bedclothes back and attempted to stand up. Her head swam and her legs wobbled dangerously. She was forced to balance on the side of the bed, one hand on the bedpost, the other holding her head until the room stood still.

  Bethan fussed and bothered, calling Louisa to help her lift Gwenna back into bed, but Gwenna would not be calmed.

  “If you won’t tell me, send Tom or Hugh to see me.”

  Bethan was scandalised that Gwenna would even consider admitting Hugh to her bedroom while attired in her nightgown. “You can’t do that. It’s not done.”

  But Gwenna had moved beyond the niceties of society, demanding to see one of the men. “At least Hugh will be honest with me, which is more than you two are.”

  Neither of her carers would give in.

  Later in the day, Louisa returned. Sitting on the side of the bed, she faced Gwenna and laid down the law. “I can’t have you getting yourself all worked up like this over things you can do nothing about. What’s done is done. I’ve told you the windows have been battened and the place is secure. That’s all you need to know. There’s to be a police investigation. We can’t do much until then.”

  “The business will be ruined. We have to do something,” wailed Gwenna.

  “Stop it, Gwenna. Or I won’t tell you anything.”

  At Louisa’s threat, Gwenna calmed down and listened.

  “To ease your mind and make it simpler for everyone concerned, I’ve organised a day bed for you in the sitting room. You will be allowed to come down in the morning before luncheon and again in the afternoon, after a nap, until dinner.”

  Gwenna started to quarrel, but Louisa put her fingers on Gwenna’s lips.

  “If you argue with me, you won’t be allowed down at all. I will help you dress in the day robe Tillie is making. When you’re ready, Hugh will carry you downstairs. Yes, Gwenna,” she said when Gwenna again attempted to contradict her. “Carry you. You are not walking and that is final.”

  The next morning Tillie and Louisa dressed Gwenna in her pale-blue wool day dress. Shaped into the waist and flaring out over soft petticoats, it fastened together from neck to toe with tiny frog fastenings. Brocade trim and heelless brocade slippers turned a plain robe into an elegant dress.

  “There’s no need to wear corsets, my dear,” said Tillie. “It’s designed for comfort, but you will be able to receive guests now.”

  Gwenna was thankful, and said so, giving both sisters a hug and a kiss. Hugh lifted her as if she was a feather and carried her gently down the stairs. Gwenna carelessly draped her arm around his neck and felt a faint shiver through his shoulders. She glanced at him in surprise, but Hugh kept his eyes firmly fixed on where he was going until he sat her on the day bed in the sitting room.

  Gwenna had never seen the sofa before but fell in love with it straight away. She must thank Tom, or whoever bought it. Covered in a warm gold velvet, it looked like an armchair with rolled and padded arms and back, but longer, with extra length for her legs. She splayed the skirt of her robe out to drape prettily over the side.

  “You’re looking better, if I may say so, Miss Gwenna,” said Hugh. “There’s a bit of colour in your cheeks.” And by the way he danced from foot to foot and turned colour himself, he was clearly embarrassed.

  “Thank you, Hugh. Will you stay and talk with me? Tell me what’s going on.”

  “Not right now, Miss Gwenna. Mr Griffiths will explain everything.” Hugh glanced at Louisa’s stern face. “I’d better be going for now.”

  Louisa plumped pillows behind Gwenna, pulled a side table closer to her and handed her a milk posset and a book. “Is that better?”

  “Perfect. Thank you, Louisa,” smiled Gwenna. “But when is someone going to tell me what I need to know?”

  As if on cue, Tom knocked on the door and entered the room. He kissed Gwenna on the cheeks and, after all the civilities had been covered, pulled up a chair.

  Gwenna sat transfixed, almost unable to utter a word, as Tom explained the events of that night.

  “We have not been allowed to touch anything. They are taking photographs of all the damage, including the bricks – to see if they can identify where they came from. And a crowbar left behind. We still don’t know who it was, or why. There’s been no witnesses come forward, other than you ...”

  “It was Black Jack.”

  “What? Don’t be silly, Gwenna. It can’t have been him,” Tom said, dismissing her idea. “You’re imagining things, girl. No one’s seen or heard of Jack Jones in over a year. He’s gone.”

  Gwenna shook her head and sat forward. “It was him, I’m telling you, Tom. He’s haunted my dreams for weeks – just like those dreams I had before Johnno disappeared. It was him. I just know it. Even if no one can prove it. And ... the date, Tom.” Tom knew what she meant. “Why that date if it wasn’t him?”

  “Calm yourself, Gwenna. I won’t argue with you if you feel sure. Your instincts have been good before, but it’s a long shot. I’ll suggest it to the police, but don’t expect them to take it seriously.” Tom paused. “There’s one more thing. The other piece of evidence they’re following is the word ‘Shrew’ painted on the wall.”

  Gwenna gasped, and tears threatened. She wasn’t as strong as she thought. What a horrible word to use, and to deface the building was unforgivable. “Is it still there?” she asked in a strained voice.

  “Yes, but it’s covered up now,” Tom assured her. “The police nailed a piece of canvas over it so passers-by won’t gawk at it, and they’ll also investigate the paint on the footpath where the pot was spilt. They’re hoping whoever it was might have got some on a shoe or their clothing.”

  “Can I see?”

  “No. Absolutely not, Gwenna. You’ve had enough trauma. You heard what the doctor said. Total rest and no upsets. Anyway, your mother and your sisters would kill me if I let you anywhere beyond this room.”

  Gwenna attempted a smile, but her mind was working overtime.

  “I never saw the room afterwards. It was pitch dark until Louisa came through the door with the light and I fainted. From what I remember while lying on the floor, he smashed every window. I know I knocked one table flying, it’ll be broken, and now you tell me the evil man painted the outside too? I can picture it, Tom. The shop’s ruined, isn’t it. He’s ruined it. I’m not going to be able to get it up and running again, am I?”

  Gwenna saw the sorrow in Tom’s face, but he would never conceal the truth from her. “No, Gwenna, you’re not. The damage can be fixed but even if you could reinstate the shop, I’m not sure people would come.”

  At Tom’s words, Gwenna’s hopes and dreams shattered. The shop was gone. Everything she had worked for, everything she had sacrificed – all gone in one night of wanton destruction.

  Like a dam bursting, her courage deserted her, leaving her as emotionally and mentally exhausted as she was physically drained. She lay on the day bed with no idea how she would recover from such a loss.

  * * *

  Over the next few days, Gwenna had a constant stream of visitors. Elias, the most surprising of them all. He didn’t stay long, but she valued his coming.

  “Alice told me,” he said. “I’m sorry you’ve met such troubles, Gwenna. Never mind what is between us, you don’t deserve them.”

  From Alice, she learnt more about the story of Louisa’s sideboard and how Mr Evans had tried to claim it since he’d p
aid for it, he said, but her father had refused. His client, Woody insisted, was Mrs Louisa Evans and since she had gifted it to his daughter Alice, that was the end of the matter. Mr Court’s sideboard was coming along excellently, and Woody was certain it would win first prize. And Elias and her dad were planning on moving to a bigger workshop – “Which means I’ll be able to help choose where we live and what the house looks like. I so want a nicer place. It’s been fine for Dad and me, but Elias and me, we’re a family now.” And finally, breathlessly, Alice thought she was pregnant. “You don’t mind me telling you, do you, Gwenna? I know it’s too soon to know for certain and I shouldn’t tell anyone, but I’m so excited.”

  From Janie, Gwenna learnt about the redecorations in their house to welcome the new baby. New furniture, new curtaining, new colours. They had scrimped and saved after Percy’s increase had come through, and the house they’d bought had been pretty run-down, but the potential had been huge since it had so many bedrooms. “Enough for all the children, and a spare one. Percy says I can get a maid in to help.” Dreams were coming to fruition for the Lewis family.

  “I’m happy you’re prospering, Janie. It’s good to see,” said Gwenna, increasingly concerned about her own situation.

  Bethan told her about the new people she’d met through the choir, and how she was helping the ladies with the church bazaar fundraising. In the hope Gwenna would eat more, Bethan prepared her favourite foods in addition to the life-sustaining diet the doctor recommended. Louisa nursed her as if she was a baby in need of constant attention, and strictly adhered to the times she was allowed downstairs. The only times Gwenna saw Hugh was when he carried her up and down. In those brief moments, which she found awkwardly intimate, Gwenna tried to find out what Hugh was doing but misinterpreted his reticence to mean more than his words. The less he said about how the wholesale side was doing, the more Gwenna fretted.

  Even Tillie had news. “Tom’s been promoted to Assistant Head of Department. A manager even.” Gwenna was delighted with the news. Tom deserved recognition, but would it mean she’d lose Tillie? With Tom in such an elevated position, Gwenna assumed Tillie would no longer want to work – not with sufficient money coming into the house for her to become a society lady if she wished. Gwenna couldn’t imagine what she would do without Tillie.

  All around her, the family was prospering, yet no one spoke of Gwenna rekindling her dreams. No one gave her any hope she would be able to rebuild what she had lost. Her heart ached. She had promised Pa she would care for Mam, and Charlie. Even if Tom had taken over the role, there was still Mam to consider – and Louisa. And she had made a pledge to her son. She had failed them all.

  Sleep became her escape, thanks to Louisa’s magic medicine.

  37

  Schemes and dreams

  May 1901

  “I want to talk to Hugh,” demanded Gwenna as she lay on the day bed.

  Tom recognised the look. “What about? What are you scheming now?”

  “I don’t know exactly, but I’ve got to do something.” Gwenna’s frustration levels were fit to burst. “I’ve done nothing for weeks except eat revolting mushy food, and sleep. Louisa still won’t let me walk up and down the stairs, and the doctor confined me indoors for another two weeks.” She pumped her hands beside her, thumping the padding in vexation. “It’s so unfair. It’ll be the end of May by then and six weeks since we last took a single penny.”

  While her physical health was still not quite up to par, and she tired far too easily for her liking, her mental acuity had returned in full force. The one aspect Gwenna still doubted was her emotional stability. Anger and tears erupted on a regular basis – she hated her lack of control – and Louisa’s magic medicine was now making things worse.

  “That’s not quite true,” answered Tom. “And you know it. I’ve told you the wholesale side is busy. Turner’s are doing a great job at the auctions. Hugh is managing well enough, although he admits to missing your deft touch with some of the mixtures. It’s early days yet, Gwenna. You can’t expect to recover from long-term exhaustion so soon. Relax. We’ve told everyone your exclusive range is not available again until later in the year, but they should put their Christmas orders in early if they want supplies.”

  Even to Gwenna, it made sense.

  “I still want to talk with Hugh.”

  “I’m not the one you should be talking to, Miss Gwenna,” said Hugh, sticking with his recently acquired and uncharacteristic formality.

  Their relationship had changed in the last weeks since he carried her everywhere. Sometimes she found herself resting her head on his shoulder, her arm around his neck, and she could feel his breath when he inhaled the scent of her hair. She realised how much she had come to rely on him.

  Tom was her adviser about things financial and often told her to stop being so impetuous, but Hugh was her strength. He’d always been there for her – except for the year when he’d been in South Africa – and understood her better than many. She felt safe with Hugh around.

  Although Hugh agreed with her ideas in principle, the sort of people who could bring about what she asked were the ones with money and contacts. Hugh had neither.

  “I’m not asking you to sign the documents, just to find me a place. Look. Look what it says here.”

  For months, the newspapers had been full of the forthcoming royal visit by the Duke and Duchess of Cornwall and York, but there was something new every day as the date of their arrival crept closer.

  Gwenna handed the paper to Hugh. “The school holidays are being altered to fit the dates when the duke and duchess are here, and there’s to be parades and welcoming parties. There are plans for three ceremonial arches I’ve read about so far – one at the bottom of Queen Street by the wharf, the government one further up near Victoria Street, and one in Wellesley Street by the library. And visitors will be pouring into Auckland to see the royal couple We can’t miss an opportunity like that.”

  Hugh never refused her anything and agreed he would see what he could find. The pair drew up plans and debated the best locations, but a lot would depend on what was available. The confectionery business was fickle at the best of times. Small operators would appear and disappear – even the bigger ones, like the Chicago company Elias once detested, who were burnt out of one building and vacated their other premises nearly two years earlier. Names changed and nothing remained the same, but Gwenna was convinced. Somewhere along Karangahape Road, there must be suitable premises.

  “I don’t want to be too close to a similar store, but close to a fruiterer or grocer would work – and towards the mill end if possible. I heard the duchess may go past the Jewish cemetery on the other corner.”

  A few days later, Hugh returned, grinning. “I’ve found you the best location I can.”

  Several shops east of the junction of Upper Queen Street, Hugh had found an empty shop, between a grocer and a draper on the south side – the sunny side – protected by a fixed verandah. By the time he had finished explaining, Gwenna was ready to throw off her fetters and visit the place for herself. She placed her feet firmly on the floor; for once her head didn’t spin, and her legs felt stronger. The doctor had been happy with the way the knee ligament was healing, the bruises had faded and she was feeling more like her normal self. The ‘doom merchant’, as she called the doctor, kept warning her not to do anything to tire herself out. ‘You won’t recover quickly or easily, Mrs Price,’ he had said. ‘I want you to take the year off and concentrate on getting strong again.’

  Well, he could just think again. Six weeks confined indoors was more than Gwenna could handle, and a year off would mean the end of her dreams. No business would survive a year without constant work and attention, and she wasn’t ready to give up. Not by a long way. She’d promised Georgie.

  Gwenna was on her feet, already thinking about what she should wear and if she could make it up the stairs without assistance when Hugh held his hand up.

  “Don’t do that,
Miss Gwenna, please. Mrs Evans will have my hide if I let that happen. Mrs Griffiths, she could visit instead, and she would be the best person to talk with Mr Griffiths if you want to go ahead with leasing the place.”

  Gwenna sat down again with a huff. “I’m going batty, just sitting here with nothing to do, Hugh. You’ve got to help me.”

  Over the next couple of days, they spent the time conspiring and planning. Gwenna relaxed in his company, and they laughed together in a natural and uninhibited way. Sometimes she caught him watching her before he dropped his gaze.

  While Hugh described the shop in detail, Gwenna mapped out the layout. He told her the walls had previously been lined with shelves, and she was delighted to discover much of the furniture from the parlour was unscathed.

  “Because your sideboard was against the wall, it didn’t get damaged,” said Hugh. “The counter is a little scratched, thanks to all the glass shards, but the jars on the shelves behind are all intact. Unfortunately, most of the glass domes, a few of the bowls and the mirror above the fireplace were all broken.”

  For the first time in weeks, someone had told her the truth about the state of the shop she had put her heart and soul into. But now she had an even better idea.

  Gwenna didn’t care about the broken glass. It could all be replaced. As long as the stock in the jars was usable. The fact she could salvage the counter and the sideboard were an added bonus. So, too, the tables and chairs. Hugh had repaired the leg on the table Gwenna had tipped over that night. “And I’ve built two more barrows. One for Charlie to use; it’s a bit sturdier – good luck to any lads who try to smash it – and one other.”